Because I can feel it. That dangerous pull. That fragile hope.
“I’m okay,” I say. “I’m okay without—”
“Sunshine,” he cuts in gently. My breath catches. A tear slips down again. “Stop pretending,” he says softly. I look at him. Really look at him. And for the first time, there’s no teasing in his eyes. No playfulness. Just…something steady. “You don’t have to,” he continues. “Not with me.” His hand moves from mine to my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear slowly. “It’s okay to want people,” he says. My chest tightens. “It’s human.”
His voice drops slightly. “And whether you want me or not…” he adds, a small smile forming, “you will always have me.”
My heart stumbles. “I promise.”
I bite down on my tongue, trying to hold it together. Trying to push it back. Trying to not believe him. But my body doesn’t listen.
The tears come anyway.
And I sit there, in the middle of a random dhaba, across from a man I wasn’t supposed to let in—Crying like I haven’t allowed myself to in years.
Shit.
CHAPTER 26
ISHIKA
The drive back feels…lighter. Not because anything has changed externally—the same road stretches ahead, the same traffic crawls in patches, the same city noise hums in the background—but something inside me has shifted just enough to make it all feel different.
I sit back in the passenger seat, my fingers loosely curled in my lap, aware of him beside me in a way I wasn’t before.
And he does exactly what I expect him to do. He doesn’t bring up the dhaba. He doesn’t bring up the tears. He doesn’t even look at me like something fragile has been placed between us.
He just…continues. “Biggest pet peeve?” he asks, glancing at me briefly before looking back at the road.
I exhale, relieved and oddly grateful. “People who chew loudly,” I say immediately. “And people who ask about my hair color like it’s their birthright.”
He hums thoughtfully. “So…people trying to be friendly?”
“Yes,” I say flatly. “Anyone who tries to act close to me.”
There’s a pause.
Then he clicks his tongue. “Oh. So I fall in that category.” I turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “I get the bullying now,” he adds, shaking his head dramatically.
I laugh. “I do not bully you.” He gives me a look. A full, exaggerated,are you serious right nowlook. I press my lips together, failing to hide the smile. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
“A little?” he repeats.
“It’s fun,” I shrug.
He scoffs softly but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “What’s the biggest lie you’ve told to get out of something?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Because I know you’ve done it.”
I lean back slightly, considering. And then I remember and I know it’s going to shock him. “I once said my parents died to get out of a college event,” I say casually.
There’s a beat of silence. Then I turn to him and find his mouth slightly open. I burst out laughing. “It’s not that weird,” I defend.
He lets out a breath. “Cool. Very cool. Dropping in dead parents to escape events. Not weird at all.”
I roll my eyes. “It technically wasn’t a lie.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“It got me out of the event.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath.
