Eventually, Vicky and Ishika say their goodbyes—and thinly veiled threats—and leave. Their love lingers like a warm blanket I didn’t ask for but kind of needed anyway.
I let out a soft breath and glance at her.My Greesha.Or... whatever part of her I’m allowed to be near right now.
She’s still immersed in her phone.
“You seem... lighter,” I say.
She glances up slowly. “What do you mean?”
“You were teasing me. Talking. Having normal conversations.” I shift slightly, careful not to wince. “I thought maybe...”
She frowns, brow furrowed. “I didn’t want your family to think I’ve... changed too much.”
I nod. That tracks. But I also saw something else. A flicker of ease. Maybe even a glint of joy.
“So,” I murmur, trying not to let disappointment creep in, “that wasn’t therealyou, then?”
“That wasGreesha,” she replies, shrugging, head dipping back down to her phone.
But then—there it is. A ghost of a smile. Barely there. A blink and it’s gone. But Isawit.
And yeah, maybe I imagined it. But also maybe I didn’t.
I smile, hoping I didn’t just invent a moment out of desperation.
“I’m getting discharged tomorrow morning,” I announce.
“Yeah,” she says absently, eyes still on her screen. “And I’ll be there.”
“There... where? Here?” I ask. Was that code? Or just an obvious statement. Am I missing something?
She finally looks up. “There when you get discharged.”
She pauses, then adds, “There when I drive you to your apartment.”
I blink and settle my head back on my pillow. “Oh.”
Another few beats pass.
“There in your apartment as you recover.”
Okay. So. Here’s the thing about necks. They’re connected to your shoulders, right? Which makes sense anatomically. Except, when you’ve got a fresh gunshot wound under your clavicle, the neck and shoulder become a no-go zone. No swift movements. No surprises. No sudden reactions.
Now.
Tell that toAdvik Sharma of three seconds ago,who just snapped his head up so fast, I swear I briefly left my body and came back reincarnated as an idiot.
I saw stars. Whole-ass constellations. Orion?Gorgeous. Centaurus?Shimmering.
Pain?
Un-fucking-hinged.
“Fuck!” I hiss, my eyes tearing up.
Greesha doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. She just raises an unimpressed brow because I think I just proved her point.
“Zero survival instincts.”
