Page 3 of The Promise of a Traitor

“I just want you to meet the girl, Adi,” she said, all amusement leaching out of her voice. “After you meet her, if you don’t like her or you guys don’t vibe or whatever the lingo is nowadays, we’ll forget all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “It’s what all the typical mothers say. All we want is to see you happy, my child.”

“All I want is for you to stop looking like the family grinch,” Maya said succinctly. “Stop gritting your teeth, forcing a smile, and looking like someone shot your pet dog.”

“I bet you’re the one who shot Cookie.” God, he sounded like a petulant pre-teen.

“Cookie died at the ripe old age of fifteen, in my arms.” Maya sounded like she really was going to reach through the phone and smack him. “And plus, she was my dog!”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me get one of my own!”

“Dogs are work, you imbecile. Were you going to feed the dog, toilet train it, or clean up its messes? No, you weren’t. I was. Ergo, I was the only one who deserved a dog!”

Advik waited a beat before poking at his mother again. “Did you just say ergo?”

Maya made an inarticulate sound that may or may not have been a mangled version of ‘bloody idiot.’

When she finally spoke again, her voice was a hiss. “This girl you’re meeting is a close friend’s daughter. So, you will march your butt in there, Advik, and you will be polite and charming and all the other good things I know you to be. And after that,” she took a deep breath, “we will talk.”

The line went silent before he could lob anything that would irritate her back at her. He sighed and pocketed his phone. That brief distraction was over. He couldn’t put off walking into the café anymore.

With another long sigh, he pushed the door open, wincing as an annoyingly cheerful tinkle sounded. He glanced around the little café and didn’t see any single woman sitting at any of the tables. The knot in his gut unclenched. Maybe she’d decided to ghost him. This was excellent. He strode over to the counter, smiling at the young lady manning it.

“I’ll have a black coffee to go please.”

“Sure Sir. Give us two minutes,” she said, ringing up the order with brisk efficiency.

He nodded and stepped back, taking the receipt she’d printed out. He looked over the tables and spotted an empty one in the corner by the window he’d been hating on from the outside. He was feeling a lot better about it now that he knew he’d be drinking his coffee alone and in blessed peace.

Another tinkle sounded over the door and he tensed. God, he hoped she wasn’t sauntering in late. But it was just a young couple, arm in arm, giggling as they tumbled through the doorway. His lips twisted at the sight of their obvious happiness, their joy in each other. Give them a few more months, he thought bitterly, and the bubble would burst.

The thought gave him pause. Maybe he was turning into the family grinch. He knew love existed. He saw it every day in his parents, in their friends, in his friends, his cousins, in their small yet tight circle. He just didn’t see it for himself. Not anymore.

“Mr. Malhotra,” the server from the counter called out.

Advik got up from his seat, relieved to be getting out of this cloyingly sweet place, heading to the counter to get his coffee. He was halfway there when the door to the restroom opened and she stepped out.

Long, wavy curls of black with subtle brown highlights bounced around her shoulders, tumbling halfway down her back, a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head, holding the heavy mass of it back from her face. Her glorious body was draped in a long, hobo style orange dress that swirled around her ankles. Big, kohl lined eyes widened at the sight of him, her hands fluttering at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them. She came to a stumbling halt two feet from him.

Advik froze.

“A-Adi,” she breathed, shock echoing in her voice and coating her face.

Advik took a step back, the same shock juddering through his body, making it hard to move.

“She’s my friend’s daughter. She’s studied in the US too. Came back a year before you did and has started her own business here, a cloud kitchen for desserts or something. Some kind of baker. I’m sending you her picture.”

“No,” he said, as the pieces of the jigsaw slotted into place. “No.”

She could not be the girl his mother had set him up with. No way in hell!

“You’re Aunty Maya’s son?” she asked, her eyes going round with anxiety and something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. That chafed his raw emotions. He’d always known everything she felt, everything she thought, before she needed to voice it.

“You’re the guy I’m supposed to meet. Oh my God, Adi,” she whispered, “It’s so good to see you again.”

Something twisted in his gut. Something hot, heavy, and bitterly angry.

“No, Aastha,” he said, meeting those big, beautiful eyes he’d once lost himself in. “I’m the guy you fucked three times in three different ways before disappearing from his bed.” He took a step towards her and she stepped back. “But hey, you’re right. It is good to see you again.”