“No.” The answer is immediate because he didn’t give me a reason to miss when he vanished without a word. His gaze flickers over my face, taking in every reaction, every shift in expression like he’s cataloguing it.
“Still the same,” he murmurs.
My pulse spikes.
“You need to leave.” I start to push the door closed. But his hand shoots out, stopping it before it can move more than an inch.
My breath catches. “Don’t,” I say, my voice dropping. There’s no fear in it. Something shifts in his expression.
“You should hear me out,” he says quietly.
“I don’t owe you anything.” His grip tightens slightly on the door.
“Maybe not.” My heart starts to pound.
“Then leave.” For a split second, neither of us moves. The space between us stretches thin.
And then—Everything happens too fast. His other hand moves. I barely register the glint of something metallic before a sharp sting pierces my arm.
“What—” The word doesn’t finish and my world tilts. Like the ground beneath me has shifted slightly out of place. My fingers loosen around the door. My body doesn’t feel entirely mine anymore.
“What did you—” My voice slurs. His face stays steady as he watches me carefully. My vision blurs at the edges. I try to step back. My legs don’t respond the way they should.
No. No, no, no—
My heart starts racing again, panic finally breaking through the fog. I reach for the door. For anything. For something. But my grip fails. The room spins slowly, like everything is just slightly out of sync. My breathing turns uneven. This isn’t happening. This isn’t—My thoughts stumble over themselves.
Aryan.
The name hits me hard. I need—My body sways.
The world slips further. His voice reaches me, distant now, like it’s coming from somewhere far away. But I don’t hear the words. I can’t focus on them. Everything is fading. The light. The room. The edges of everything softening into nothing.
My knees give out. Darkness creeps in from the corners of my vision, swallowing everything in slow, inevitable waves. I try to hold onto something. His face. His voice. The way he says my name.
My lips part.
“Aa…r—”
CHAPTER 58
ARYAN
Something’s wrong. The thought doesn’t arrive slowly. It doesn’t build or give me time to question it. It lands—sharp, immediate—the second the second honk fades into silence and nothing follows.
This is our thing.
Two honks. She comes down. Usually with an eye roll. Sometimes with a comment about how I lack patience. Always with that small, reluctant smile she pretends isn’t there.
It’s stupid. Insignificant to anyone else. But it’s ours. And she didn’t come. I wait a second longer than I should.
My fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel. Maybe she’s tying her hair. Maybe she’s looking for something.
No.
Something twists low in my gut, cold and certain. I don’t wait for a third honk. I’m already out of the car before I realize I’ve opened the door, my steps quick, sharp against the pavement as I head toward her building. Two steps at a time. I don’t even remember climbing them. Just the sound of my own breath, louder than it should be.
The way my heart has started beating too fast. Too hard. “Ishika!” I call out as I reach her floor, the name tearing out of me before I can control it. Her door is open. Wide open. Everything inside me drops.
