Page 88 of The Ruin I Chose

And the more I found, the deeper I got sucked into her.

The deeper I felt for her. All I wanted to do was see her. Hold her.

Tell her how scared I was. How much she meant to me. And how sorry I was to speak those words in anger.

It was too early to show up at her house. The latest update said she was still at Studio Rasa. I waited in the car until most of the staff left. The sun had dipped low by the time I stepped out.

Studio Rasa was tucked into a quiet residential lane—one of those old Bombay bungalows that had been converted into something new. The kind of place that still remembered who it used to be.

There was no guard. Just a small driveway, enough for a car and a few bikes. A mango tree stood in the corner of the compound, its branches heavy, casting long shadows over a covered bench and a patch of garden.

The lights inside were off, but music pulsed through the air—something upbeat, something loud. It spilled into the empty reception area, like it belonged there. I followed the sound.

The office was mostly open-plan. A large reception desk with a small meeting room to the side. Beyond the entry reception, to the left, a sample room. To the right were workstations. Beyond that, a glass-walled conference room. At the far end, the main cabin—hers and Sahil’s. It overlooked everything. Of course it did.

The flooring was a cool grey stone. The ceilings were high. Arched windows lined the walls, blinds drawn now. Sketches and photographs hung along the corridor—projects, renderings, moments frozen in time. The columns were painted in bright colours. The space felt alive. It felt like her. Like memory with a heartbeat.

I reached the cabin. The door was open and my body went still. Roxanne was dancing with Sahil like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t almost died. Like I hadn’t spent the last two days clawing my way out of hell.

She wore a skirt—fitted, fluid. A white shirt, two buttons undone. A hint of cleavage. Her K pendant caught the light.

And then—the emerald. The necklace I left for her in China. She was wearing it. My heart stuttered.

Sahil twirled her. She laughed.

“We’re definitely not doing this number in your sangeet,” she said. “Too scandalous for your in-laws. And what about Priya?”

“Priya knows I’m a serial flirt. I’ve even flirted with her mom.”

“Ew. You’re sick. Leave the mom alone.”

“You and I both know moms are the best,” he said, winking.

I clenched my jaw. His hands were on her waist now, holding her from behind. Too close. Too familiar. My thoughts turned rabid.

She’s mine. Get your hands off her.

He spun her and dipped her low.

“You need to stop panic dancing,” she said. “You’ll be a great husband.”

“Thanks, Rox,” he said, and kissed her cheek.

She smiled. Turned her head.

The moment our eyes met, her smile vanished.

“Marcello?” she whispered.

I just stood there watching her like I was relearning her all over again. Sahil straightened, still holding her waist. He looked like a startled bird—eyes darting between us. Like he was standing between two storms.

He stuttered, “Is… this him?”

“Yes,” she said, voice flat.

She stepped away from him, arms crossing over her chest. Her body language changed instantly—closed, guarded. Like a door I once had the key to, shut.

Sahil grinned, walking towards me with an outstretched hand.