Or a memory.
And then I do it. The thing I used to do. The thing I never realized mattered.
I smile. Just a small, shaking tilt of my head.
Something I used to do when she hesitated with intimacy. Something I never realized wasthisembedded in her.
My practiced, natural gesture mutely said,it’s okay, I’ll wait. And she remembers. I see it in her eyes.
Her breathing changes. Her eyes flutter shut.
Then reopen—empty again.
I take my cue.
I let go and step back.
“Aadya?” I ask.
She nods. “Alias.”
Her voice is clipped.
I smile, a little brokenly. “Suits you.”
She swallows hard and looks at me, harder than before.
“Greesha Das is dead.”
My chest caves slightly. I nod. “Yeah.”
She straightens her spine. Cold. Sharp.
“Just get the client, Vik. And we’re good.”
The nickname stings. Not because she said it—but because ofhow. Mocking. Detached. Like it was never hers to say.
I nod. “Anything else you need from us?”
She smiles. But it’s not kind.
“Keep this to yourself,” she says. “I’m Aadya—and no one else.”
I want to say something more. Something soft. Something pitiful. Pathetic.
But she’s already moving. And in a blink—
She’s gone.
Like she was never here at all.
Like maybe I dreamed her into existence again.
Except I didn’t.
This time, I was able to touch her.
ELEVEN
