Before he can answer, Sitara’s voice rings out behind me.
“Aadhya? Where’s she? Are you talking to her?”
I turn just in time to see her hurrying toward me, eyes bright, face lit with that particular joy she reserves for her niece she adores. My chest does something stupid.
“No,” I say, smiling, “I was talking to her father.”
She huffs dramatically and snatches the phone from my hand. “Bhai-sa, can Ipleasetalk to Aadhya?” She pouts, as if Devraj can see her expression through the screen.
I hold my breath, already prepared to threaten him if he refuses.
“Okay,” she announces happily a second later. “I’ll video call you in an hour!”
She ends the call and plops down beside me, grinning.
Her eyes meet mine and widen. “Oh my god. Were you talking about something important? I just ended the call.”
I laugh. “Yes. We were talking about you.”
Her eyes narrow. “Aboutme? What about me?”
I mirror her expression, leaning in. “About how adorable you look when you talk. And how no one else can talk when you do.”
She gasps. “That is not true.”
“It is, princess.”
She crosses her arms with mock offense. “Fine. I won’t talk to either of you then.”
“Hey,” I protest immediately, lowering my voice. “Please don’t.”
She looks at me then, really looks at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. I know that look. I’m already doomed.
“I won’t,” she says sweetly, “if you dance for me.”
My jaw drops. “You want me to dance for you?”
She shakes her head innocently. “No. Only if you want me to forgive you.”
I stare at her. She blinks up at me, biting her lip like she has no idea what she’s doing to me.
I get up abruptly, pulling her to her feet with me. “I do want you to forgive me,” I say. “So I’m going to dance.”
I pull her closer, her body fitting against mine like it always has, like it always will. She gasps softly when I start moving, slow and unhurried.
“Why are you so cunning?” she murmurs, smiling now.
“I have to be,” I reply, smirking. “To survive this world.”
She shakes her head and rests it just above my heart. I draw gentle patterns on her waist, acutely aware of every place wetouch. She relaxes against me, and I know she can feel how fast my heart is beating.
She doesn’t say anything about it.
I don’t need her to.
“Will you go on a date with me, princess?” I whisper.
And as I wait for her answer, a familiar fear stirs quietly in the back of my mind. The fear of becoming my father. Of dulling her light. Of turning into someone who takes more than he gives. I’d promised myself I would never marry. Promised I’d never bring someone into a life shadowed by that legacy.
