“God bless you, beta. Thank you for always supporting my son. I hope you stay with him forever.” My smile falters. His words reveal the intention behind them, and it irritates me more than I’d like to admit.
The entire family seems determined to make me part of their family, and it’s becoming exhausting. Though Karan never crossed a line in the last month, his occasional remarks hinting at dating me never stopped, and I deflected every single time.
Just one perfect moment, one clear chance, and I’d reject him again, properly this time. He deserves that for ignoring my repeated hints of disinterest not just in him, but in any relationship. This is no longer flattering.
It’s becoming a burden I’m tired of carrying.
Chapter 25
Reyansh
My fingers curl into a tight fist as Amyra withdraws her hand from mine. Before the moment can linger, I hear my family calling my name, forcing me to regain my composure and walk toward them. I plaster on an instant smile as I reach the corner sofa where my parents sit alongside Amyra’s parents, Aditi, Sanchi, and her father.
“You all did great, Reyansh. We are proud of you,” Neelima aunty says warmly.
“Thank you, Aunty,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to my mother, waiting and hoping for her to say something about my achievement. She studies me for a long second before finally speaking.
“Good job, and congratulations, Reyansh.” A faint smile curves my lips. It’s enough for now. At least she didn’t ignore my existence. At least she acknowledged my success. One forgotten promise wrecked my entire life. I didn’t just lose the warmth in my parents’ eyes; I also ended up playing with another person’s feelings by entering a relationship without realizing I was already in love with Amyra.
I’m pulled back to the present when I feel a tug at my sleeve. Aditi grabs my hand and makes me sit beside her, a wide smile lighting up her face.
“You killed it, Reyansh, especially the speech! I’m so proud of being your girlfriend.” She rests her head on my shoulder, hugging my arm tightly. Awkwardness settles in my chest. I’m still leading her on in a relationship that means nothing to me.
“Thanks, Aditi,” I say quietly.
The past month has been relentless, our days consumed by work on the project, leaving me barely any time to meet her. Somewhere along the way, I made up my mind to confess my disinterest in this relationship and end this once and for all, apologize to her and our families, and try to undo the mess I created. They may not forgive me immediately, but I’ll wait for their hearts to soften. What I did was almost a sin, playing with people’s emotions simply because I wasn’t honest with myself. I deserve whatever punishment they choose for me. And when it comes to Aditi, I’m her biggest culprit. I’ll wait for her forgiveness, even if it takes years.
But none of my mistakes stops me from wanting Amyra in my life.
I already wasted half of it, misinterpreting my deep love for her as friendship. Now, I can’t stay away from her. The urge to express my affection, to show her how much she means to me, consumes my thoughts so much that I sometimes have to restrain the instinct to cage her in my arms. Worse are the thoughts I try not to indulge in, imagining her lips against mine, my hands settling at her waist.
Even today, the moment I saw her, my breath hitched.
She carries the red outfit effortlessly, the bodycon dress clinging to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve in a way that drives me insane. She radiates quiet authority: elegant, self-assured, every inch the businesswoman who owns both her space and the moment.
I ache to call her mine, to show the world that I am her boyfriend. But before that—
I need to clean the mess I’ve spread across too many lives.
“Congratulations, Reyansh,” a female voice says from behind. I turn to find Sanchi, Amyra’s friend, smiling at me. I return it politely.
“Is Amyra talking to that man’s father you keep mentioning?” Neelima aunty asks suddenly. My brows knit in confusion, but when I follow her gaze, understanding dawns in my mind.
“Yes,” Harsha Uncle replies, and instantly the parents’ expressions shift with curiosity.
“Then that must be Karan’s Dad,” Mom says, her tone thoughtful.
“Yes. Rajiv Mahajan—our old investor and a reputed industrialist,” Dad adds, his voice firm, as if the name alone carries weight.
“Look how comfortable Karan and Amyra are,” Mom says excitedly. “He even wanted to introduce her to his father. That says a lot about their closeness.” I can already sense where this is all heading, and my blood begins to simmer.
“That’s exactly why we proposed him as a suitable partner for our Amyra,” Harsha uncle continues, animated.
“They clicked in no time, led the employee engagement campaign together successfully, and worked together again on this new product line. Even Karan’s father is positive if we want to take this forward.”
“I agree, Uncle,” Sanchi chimes in from behind. “Amyra rarely feels comfortable with anyone.” I shoot her a glare, but she only raises an eyebrow at me, unapologetic, as if daring me to object.
“And the interesting part,” Harsha uncle adds, oblivious to the tension, “is that Karan had feelings for Amyra in the past. She turned him down then. Now that their studies are over, she might see things differently and give him a chance.” The words hit harder than they should.
