Page 107 of The Ruin I Chose

I clenched my jaw. “Nothing that concerns you.”

He stood, calm but firm. “She’ll always be my concern.”

And I hated how right he was.

I let out a deep sigh. “Priya’s cousin kissed me. Roxanne saw everything.”

Saying it aloud was like ripping open my own throat. He let out a distasteful groan.

“Who? The one who looks like a hooker?”

“Yes.” I scoffed.

At least we agreed on something.

“Listen, if you’re not serious about Roxy, walk away now. And if you’re playing games,” he said, stepping closer, “stay the fuck away from her. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

My fists curled, but I didn’t move.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. She got under my skin. Into my heart. I didn’t see it coming. But now that she’s there—

I’ll bleed before I let go.”

And I meant every word.

“Good. Cause if she’s hurt and broken, I won’t shy away from punching you square in the nose.”

I scoffed and smiled. “Where is she?”

“She’s probably in the banquet hall. We’re rehearsing for tonight’s sangeet.”

We started walking back to the resort.

“If you love her, tell her. She deserves to hear it.”

I was stunned. Until yesterday, he was ready to tear me apart. Today, he was her shield. That meant something.

The banquet hall looked anything but bare. The stage was already draped with colour and flowers. Sahil and his groomsmen were there, and only one woman. My woman. Roxanne.

I stood near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes scanning. She was wearing a loose tee and black leggings. Her hair was tied in a high bun.

She laughed, hips swaying to the beat as she demonstrated a step. Her eyes sparkled. She moved like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t shattered her. Like I was yesterday’s wound she refused to acknowledge.

She looked okay. Too okay. Like she’d built a fortress out of rhythm and smiles. I hadn’t slept. I was still burning from yesterday. But she? Radiant. Composed. Untouchable. It fucking stung.

I didn’t know what I expected. A confrontation? Tears?

Instead, she was dancing.

Had she forgotten or forgiven me? Or was she building walls I would spend years trying to climb? Or was she putting on an act—a performance—a dance choreographed to keep me out?

Kyra ran out from the corner. Vihaan scooped her up. She gave me a high-five.

“Don’t be fooled by her smile. She’s probably bubbling with anger inside.”

Vihaan spoke low, patting my shoulders as he passed by me.

“All the best!” he winked.