Not this messy swirl of human emotion. That’s on me.
So fine. Let him take this hour to recalibrate.
Godknows he’s not doing anything useful with his silence.
And I’m not going anywhere. I’m... back.
The meeting ends with Mehul’s usual posturing.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Let me run this by my CFO.”
Vir and I both know it’s bullshit.
He’s laying the groundwork—making himself seem indispensable, inflating his worth, drawing Dev and Advik closerto desperation. The typical power play of a man used to being obeyed.
As the room clears out, I catch Vir’s eye. He gives the faintest nod and peels off to shadow Mehul. That was the plan. He handles the pig.
I handle the ghost.
Vir had asked me earlier if I was sure.
If I could really facehim. The‘object of your trauma—or heartbreak?’he’d asked.
I didn’t answer. I just said this was necessary.
Because it is.
If we’d switched places, if Vir had stayed behind, Mehul would’ve clocked it instantly. He’d get suspicious because he’s a misogynistic asshole. This—me staying—makes sense.
Even if it doesn’t feel like it.
I trail behind Dev and Advik, silent. Observing.
Honestly, they should’ve noticed me by now. Where the fuck is their situational awareness?
Look behind you, Mr. Advik. Have some self-preservation left in that broken brain of yours.
They don’t. I sigh inwardly.
When they enter the room labeled Serenity Room, I nearly snort.
Serenity is about to take a nosedive.
They both jolt when I walk in after them, finally realizing I’m still here. Dev blinks rapidly. I turn to him first.
“You’re the lead on this, I assume?”
My voice is clipped. Even.
“I—what? Sorry, but aren’t you—”
“I’m the lead.”
Advik’s voice is low. Controlled. Still staring somewhere between my chin and collarbone. Anywhere but my face.
Look up, baby. See your ghost.
