Her eyes kept scanning the comments, waiting…but nothing came. The one person whose opinion she wanted was silent.
“Tani?” Shikha was back, holding the green lehenga. “I’m taking this too.”
“Why?” Tani turned carefully in the heavy outfit she was trying on.
“Because,” her mother met her eyes, endless subtext in them, “I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
With that her mother wandered off to look for lighter outfits for the events that preceded the wedding. “Change and come join me,” she called out. “We need to figure out the outfits for the sangeet and the other days too.”
Tani’s phone vibrated in her hand. Her fingers were moving before she could tell her brain to calm down. She opened the group to Kabir’s response. Her heart rate slowed almost coming to a stop as she stared, disbelievingly, at the reply he’d sent to her picture.
A single thumbs up.
CHAPTER 15
KABIR
Kabir draggedthe guitar pick across the strings, each note scraping out like it hurt to exist. He clenched the pick between his teeth, eyes fixed on the empty space above the studio door, willing the melody in his veins to make sense.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Nothing made sense anymore.
With a feral sound, he stopped playing. The pick came free, spinning restlessly between his fingers while frustration gnawed at the edges of his control.
“It’s not working,” Ayaan said quietly, his guitar lying limp in his lap.
Kabir’s laugh was a harsh exhale. “Yeah. I know.” He shot to his feet, pacing the cramped studio like a caged animal. His hands tunnelled through his hair, tugging hard, hoping the pain would clear his mind.
Malik lifted the guitar Kabir had abandoned and strummed once, twice, before settling into a melody so painfully beautiful it felt like someone was dragging a blade across Kabir’s ribs. Ayaan joined in, a harmony blooming that was soft, broken, and too close to the truth he refused to touch.
Something in Kabir’s chest shifted, old wounds slicing open to spill blood again.
He shut his eyes. Instant mistake. Instant, terrible mistake.
Because Tani appeared immediately, blazing against the darkness of his eyelids, draped in that bridal lehenga, eyes looking straight into his, the picture of everything he could never have and all he’d ever wanted. The vision hit him like a punch.
Shit.
He knew he should open his eyes, force himself back into the room, back into the noise and the people who weren’t her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Just one more second. One more second with all he had left of her.
“Kabir.”
Varsha’s voice cracked through the moment, sharp and irritated. His eyes snapped open, breath catching as Tani shattered into nothing in his mind’s eye. Varsha stood there, arms crossed, glare sharp enough to cut through blood and bone. Kabir met her furious gaze and wondered how his life had managed to spiral so spectacularly.
“What?” he muttered, grabbing the nearest drumsticks and tapping out a rhythm that was too loud, too careless, too obviously defensive.
“A moment?” she asked, glancing between his bandmates and him.
“If this is about the publicity stunt,” he flicked a drumstick into the air and caught it without looking, his gaze holding hers, “I’m not doing it again. I said yes once. That’s all you get.”
Once. Once had been enough to wreck him.
He could still see it: the cameras, the supermodel Varsha had dragged in, her hand on his chest, her laugh too loud, too rehearsed. Her lips on his. The sense of wrongness that swamped him when she touched him had been instant and intense.
He’d known Tani would see the photos. He’dwantedher to see them. Let her think he’d moved on. Let her hate him. Maybe hate would protect her in ways his love never could.
They were better this way. They had to be. Her hating him. And him…God, him loving her like it was the only thing he’d ever be good at. Nothing new there. Nothing he could fix. Nothing he could change.
