??????
Except now—she wasn’t giggling.
And she was riding.
Helmet in hand. That damn machine already hers before she even straddled it.
Behenchod.
I never taught her to ride. I never thought she could. Did I evenknowher?
“Gr—Aadya!” I fumble and call out, breath catching.
She turns. Tilts her head, acknowledging me like I’m a mildly interesting speck in her peripheral vision.
I reach her just as she’s chucking her keys out.
“Vikram?” I ask, breathless. “Is that...”
She frowns, but somehow understands my broken one-word question. That I want to share this with Vikram.
“Just not about the undercover stuff.”
I nod. Watch her slide the helmet on, all sleek and calm.
She climbs the bike like she was born on it.
The damn thing belongs to her.
I look at her and know—
She could’ve taughtmehow to ride.
And I’d laughed at her scooty like a dumbass.
She backs out clean, no hesitation. Gives me a nod.
And in the next breath—
She’s gone.
The bike roars to life.
Tears down the drive like death doesn’t scare her.
Like I don’t scare her.
And I stand there, hands on my knees, breath ragged.
Watching the woman I thought I knew vanish into the street.
Again.
??????
“I told you he doesn’t like that weird-assraitaof yours!” Ishika groans, eyeing my barely touched bowl like it offended her family.
I raise a brow at my brother. “You made this?”
