That…sounds like her. And it hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “I don’t know everything about her,” Ma continues. “But I know loneliness when I see it.”
My jaw clenches. “She’s lived with it for a long time,” she says gently. “You can see it in the way she holds herself. In the way she doesn’t expect people to stay.”
I close my eyes briefly. Because I’ve seen that too. Every single day. “And yet,” Ma says, a small smile touching her lips, “she stayed for you.”
I open my eyes. Look toward the kitchen again. She’s still there. Still moving. Still pretending she’s not listening. My chest feels…full. In a way that’s hard to explain. “I won’t mess this up,” I say quietly. Ma places her hand over mine, squeezing it lightly.
“I know you won’t. Just don’t let her feel alone again.”
I nod. Because that’s not even a question. That’s a promise. And across the room, Ishika glances up at me for a second. Just a second. But it’s enough. Because in that look—There’s something steadier now. Something that doesn’t feel like it’s about to disappear. And I hold onto it.
CHAPTER 64
ISHIKA
There’s something strangely quiet about the house today.
Not empty—never empty—but softer somehow. Like everything is moving around him instead of with him.
I notice it because he notices it.
Aryan Khanna, who fills space without trying, who talks even when he doesn’t have to, who laughs like it’s second nature—has been…quieter.
Not in a bad way.
Just different.
He’s on the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, the other resting carefully over his stomach like he’s still adjusting to the fact that his body betrayed him. There’s a file open in front of him, but he hasn’t turned a page in the last five minutes.
He’s pretending to work.
Badly.
I lean against the doorway for a second, watching him.
There’s a faint crease between his brows. His jaw tightens and relaxes like something is running in the background of his mind that he hasn’t quite figured out how to switch off.
He looks…human. Not untouchable. Not invincible. Not the man who stood in front of a moving car and told me to crash into his like it was the most logical solution in the world.
Just…him.
And something inside me softens in a way that feels too big for my chest. I push myself off the doorframe and walk in. “You’re not even reading that.” He glances up, a slow smile spreading across his face like I just gave him exactly what he wanted.
“I was,” he lies easily.
I snort, walking over and plucking the file right out of his hand before he can pretend any further.
“You’ve been on the same page since I walked in.”
“Maybe I like that page.”
“Maybe you’re bad at lying.”
He grins. That stupid, familiar grin that does something very inconvenient to my ability to think straight. “Come here,” he says, patting the space beside him.
I roll my eyes.
But I go.
