“But she’s back.” His eyes bore into me. “What are you gonna do, Viko? Try to get her back?”
I go still.
The question should be easy. It used to be all I dreamed of.
But now?
“No,” I say, voice shredded. “I don’t deserve that. I don’t even deserve the opportunity.”
He looks at me like I just punched myself in the chest.
I smile. Barely.
“She made a choice. And I’m... I’m just grateful she’s still breathing somewhere on this planet.”
Vikram nods slowly, jaw tight. “Okay. Then tell me how to help.”
And for once, I don’t dodge it.
“Just be here,” I murmur. “Remind me who I am when I forget.”
Vikram’s hand clasps my shoulder, firm and grounding. I let it. Because I need to.
Because I don’t know how much longer I can carry the weight of almost having her again.
Of knowing she’s out there, breathing the same air—but no longer mine.
His grip tightens. “You’re mybrother,” he says, voice low but iron-strong.Fierce.
“You’re Advik Sharma. You’re the man who’ll walk through hell barefoot for someone else, but trip over your own goddamn shoelaces when it comes to taking care of yourself.”
He pauses. His breath hitches.
“You’re selfless to the point of being stupid. You make mistakes but you own up to them. You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. And right now?”
His voice breaks slightly.
“Right now, I just need you tocry. Please, Viko.Just cry. Because your smiles—” He swallows, his voice shaky. “They hide you too well. They always have. And I can’t... I’m not smart enough to differentiate.”
I look at him, his eyes red-rimmed and brimming.
He’s still scared. And I don’t blame him.
“I’m not hiding, Vicky. I promise.”
The words come out softer than I mean them to. “I’m just... overwhelmed. I won’t go there again. Iwon’t.”
But even as I say it, a bitter edge curls around my tongue. Not because I’m lying.
Because I know how little weight those words carry to someone who’s already watched me fall apart once.
A part of me feels... angry. No, notangry—just tired.
Tired of constantly proving that I’m still here. Still functioning. Still trying.
But then I remember how Vikram had sat next to my hospital bed, head bowed, whispering to Ishika that they should’ve seen it.
How they played back every conversation, every moment, searching for the cracks they missed.
