“You can head in, Advik. Mr. Bedi is ready for you,” I say, voice clipped and clinical. No inflection. No softness.
He flinches.
Actually flinches.Huh.
And for a second—a fraction of a second—I feel something like concern flicker in my chest.I hate it.
When he still doesn’t move, I open the door myself and gesture for him to enter. My hand instinctively hovers near my gun.
His eyes drop to the gesture, lips parting in some silent disbelief. But he obeys, brushing past me with unsteady steps.
I almost laugh.
Is this the guy who’s supposed to land Mehul as a client?
Maybe. Advik’s persistent. Dogged when he wants something. He probably will.
Dev rounds the corner—we check his ID and both Vir and I follow them into the conference room. We’re Mehul’s personal security. Embedded. Trusted—almost. Two weeks into the assignment and still nothing from Mehul. But we’ll find it. Eventually.
Dev kicks off the pitch, polished as always. He keeps glancing at Advik, whose silence screams. I can tell those slides were supposed to be his domain. But now, with a ghost across the table, he looks one inch from unraveling.
I don’t stare at him the entire time.
But it annoys me that I have toremindmyself not to.
He still looks like the man I left behind.
I just didn’t expect this reaction. Last I heard—from the tail end of Sahil’s surveillance—he’d told his brother he was in love with me. That was a year ago. After that, I called the job off.
I don’t know what’s happened since. I do know he didn’t change companies. Didn’t get promoted either. Failed his performance review window.
Vir made sure I knew the basics before we went in.
And honestly? It was boring.
Professional stagnation at best. No drama. No headlines. Just... existing.
Now, here he is—visibly shaken. Not saying a word. Not even attempting to look me in the eye.
The least he could do is flash that pretty little smile of his. A nod. A flicker of recognition.Something.
But maybe I’m being unfair.
I forget, sometimes, that I don’t look like me anymore. Not the way he remembers.
The curves are gone. My skin is darker, weathered. Hardened.
And the scar—yeah, the scar’s doing a lot of heavy lifting now.
Wait...
Did I scare him?Oops?
I study him again. He looks more rattled than I expected. More than what should happen when you see a ghost.
Maybe I overestimated him. Or maybe I’ve lost the ability to read people.
I’ve grown used to facts. To clarity. To mission outcomes.
