Page 29 of The Promise of a Traitor

Something hot and bubbly spilled through her veins at the thought of their wedding night. Her mind wandered down forbidden trails, unearthing some of her most precious memories.

“Why did you leave?” he asked quietly, shattering the moment. “Why did you leave me?”

There was no hiding, not any more.

“I want to know the truth, Aastha.” His intense gaze speared her, seeing far more than she wanted him to. “No more lies.”

The drumbeat of her frantic heart made it hard to think coherently. Anxiety, guilt, stress and duty warred within her, each trying to claim the top position in her toxic mess of emotions.

No more lies. The words felt like a brand searing into her unworthy flesh. No more lies.

“My family,” she said huskily, raw emotion clogging her words, “needed me. They were in a bad place.

Her voice faltered on the last word, her breath hitching as the past wormed its way out of the mental box she’d shoved it in for all these years. If she didn’t have to confront it, the hope had been that it would just disappear. It didn’t. It just sat there, in a corner of her overloaded brain and got bigger and bigger.

“What did a bad place entail?” Advik asked, his big hand cupped around the Espresso Tonic she’d been so pleased to serve him, to show off even. She watched a drop of condensation slip off the glass and pearl on his skin. She wanted, desperately, to put her mouth to it and lick it off him.

She dropped her gaze to her tightly clenched hands, fingers desperately entwined as she fought for control. “My father,” she said, allowing some of her repressed emotions to surface, “was a very successful businessman. He sold masalas, you know.” She could feel Advik’s gaze burning into the top of her head. “Your everyday kitchen masalas. And then he decided to start exporting it, broaden his base and get to the NRIs who craved a dose of home.”

She looked up now, meeting his laser focused gaze. No more lies. “He trusted the wrong person and he lost everything. He didn’t have the money for my last year of college and I couldn’t have pulled off NYU on my own, without his backing. I didn’t have a choice but to drop out, to come home.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me then? I could have helped.”

“How?” Red streaks of colour highlighted her cheeks as shame and anger reigned supreme within her. “By asking your father and lending me some money? How much would you have given me? How much was I worth?”

“Everything,” he rasped, his own voice coated with suppressed emotion. “You were worth everything to me.”

Her heart soared, a panicked bird in desperate flight. She took careful note of the past tense in his sentence even as she looked away, holding on to her composure, one fraying thread at a time.

“I wouldn’t have taken your charity,” she whispered.

“It wouldn’t have been charity, not then, not between us.” His gaze went to the cheery window display and then to the world outside, drenched in unforgiving sunlight. “If I’d been drowning Aastha, you would have given me the life vest off your back too. Or so I thought.”

The last four words echoed quietly in the silence that fell between them.

“I would have,” she replied though she saw the scepticism in his eyes before he glanced away from her.

“Would it have killed you to leave me a message?” He continued to look away from her, his gaze on the morning clientele filling up the other tables. “I was out of my mind with worry that first day. I thought something had happened to you until…” He swallowed hard, the rest of his words remaining unsaid.

Her heart stumbled a little before restarting its thunderous beat again. “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook a little as she reached for the clenched fist he had resting on the table. Her hand wrapped around his, fingers trembling. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for putting you through that.”

“Why did you?” He turned to look at her, the roiling emotion in his eyes shaking her to the core.

“If I could have, I would have. If I’d told you, if I’d heard you ask me to stay, then I don’t think I could have left.” She squeezed his still clenched fist, hoping for something, anything that told her he understood but Advik only pulled his hand out of her grasp.

For a long moment, he stared at her and then he shook his head disbelievingly. “That’s all you’re going to give me? You didn’t want to hear me beg?”

“Don’t,” she whispered shakily, “don’t say it like that.”

Advik laughed, a hard, incredulous sound. “I’m saying it exactly the way it is. You walked away from me without a word because it was the easier path for you.”

“Easy?” Aastha’s eyes hardened as she looked at him. “You think any of this was easy for me?” She shook her head in disgust, pushing back from the table and standing.

“Have a conversation with me when you’re willing to listen with an open mind, when you’re not blinded with your overbearing righteousness and hurt pride. What the fuck would you know about hard, Advik? Your entire life has been nothing but an easy ride, paved with privilege and money. You don’t know what it’s like to scrabble for every last rupee, to reach for an opportunity only to have it pulled away, or to finally find happiness only to know that it’s not yours forever.”

“I would have spent the rest of my life worshipping you, if you’d given me the chance.” Advik rose to his feet too, towering over her, his temper slipping its leash.

“You have the chance now,” she tossed back, looking around her sarcastically. “I don’t see much worshipping happening.” All her frustrations, the endless demands that rode on her shoulder, the disappointments, the pressures…all of it spilled out of her. “All I see is a spoilt brat who’s pissed someone took his toy away before he broke it.”