My jaw clenches.
My thumb presses harder against her hand without me realizing. While they’re checking her, I step aside for a moment.
Just one.
My phone is already in my hand.
My fingers move quickly as I send him the location of our collision.
Aryan:
Find out what happened to her car.
Brakes don’t fail like that.
I pause.
Then type again.
Aryan:
And check if anything’s been off around her place. Quietly.
I hit send.
CHAPTER 53
ISHIKA
My head is throbbing.
Not the dramatic, everything-is-blurry kind. Just a steady, annoying ache that sits right behind my eyes and pulses every time I move too fast or think too hard or—apparently—exist.
Which would have been manageable.
If not for Aryan Khanna.
“Aryan,” I say slowly, gripping the edge of the hospital bed as I push myself up, “I can go to the washroom without your assistance.”
He doesn’t even blink.
“No.”
I stare at him. “No?” I repeat.
“No,” he says again, calmer this time, like he’s explaining something obvious to a child. “You got into a car accident two days ago, you have a concussion, and you nearly passed out twice this morning. You’re not walking anywhere alone.”
“I did not pass out,” I snap.
“You slumped.”
“I was tired.”
“You were unconscious for three seconds.”
I narrow my eyes. “You counted?”
“Yes.”
