My voice doesn’t shake. But it’s close. “Of course I would’ve been okay with you moving on.Idid. So why wouldn’t I expect the same from you? But then I found out it wasRohi...”
I shake my head. Hard. Pressing the mask back on my face like I’ve practiced it a thousand times.
“I felt like a fool,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Because I hoped—stupidly—that if you hadn’t gone after her for two years, then maybe... maybe there was still something worth salvaging between us.”
I look at him finally. “But then I came back from Afghanistan broken. Dying. Incapable. Only to be welcomed by the news of you finally giving in.”
I have no idea why I’m saying any of this. But I know I need to.
Because even though I’ve thought it a hundred times over, the words never made it out of my mouth.
The person I wanted to say it to was gone. And the person that wanted to say it? She died with him.
His breathing hitches. Then—his voice cracks.
“I’m sorry.So, sofucking sorry, Greesha.”
I blink fast, forcing the tears back before they can betray me.
It’s embarrassing that it still hurts. All of it. Still.
“You thought I was dead. I get it. Fuck! I don’t know what that does to someone’s head,” I murmur. “I’ve never had an ex die on me.”
He looks up, sniffling. Eyes glistening.
“You weren’t an ex. You were the love I lost. And... to answer your question, it was like having panic stuck in my throat—permanently. Like my life wasn’t mine anymore. You took it with you. But worse than that, there was the guilt... of failing you. Of failingus.”
He drags a hand down his face. Exhausted. Regret etched into every line of him.
“I...fuck. I don’t even fully remember what I was thinking during Vicky’s wedding. My decisions... my reasoning... it’s all a blur. But I remember one thing clearly. I remember realizing, deep in my bones, that there was no one else for me but you. And you were gone.”
He swallows hard.
“I remember wanting to gotoyou. Feeling like a failure. That I hadn’t loved you right. Because if I had... maybe you’d be alive. I remember being scared... hopeless.”
I look away. I don’t want him to see the tears gathering again. They’re coming too easily around him.
“It’s not that you didn’t love me right,” I say softly. “You did, for the most part. Rohi was just... a quiet thing. I didn’t even notice your pull toward her most of the time.”
His voice hardens with shame. Urgency.
“Because it wasn’t there. Not really. Only when she was right there in front of me—those old stupid instincts of needing to save kicked in and—”
I let out a soft, wet laugh. Bitter.
“I wassharingyou. And I didn’t even know it.”
“No!” he moans. He leans forward like the word hurts to say. “You weren’t, baby. You—youweren’t. I was wrong to hold that protectiveness toward another woman. So wrong. And confuse it with something that itwasn’t. Then that protectiveness... it’s what made me fuck up in the worst way. Aarohi was hurting during Vicky’s wedding. She’d just gone through a breakup and—”
“Sonaturally, Advik had to save Rohi,” I bite, voice laced in acid.
He flinches.
“My therapist told me...” he starts, quieter now. “That if it hadn’t been Aarohi, it would’ve been someone else. Because what I was chasing wasn’ther. It was the pattern. The need to fix someone. To protect someone. And I did. I latched onto Khushi Joshi too. Same pattern.”
Then he adds, almost too softly: “And I failed her too.”
The words hit like a truth I hadn’t considered. And then another realization creeps in.
