Page 30 of The Promise of a Traitor

She turned from him, her eyes glittering with angry tears as she avoided the shocked looks of her staff and patrons. She made it two steps before her phone rang. Danger, danger, danger, her phone blared. A ringtone she’d assigned only to her mother’s number.

She brushed at the tears that were now spilling down her cheeks and answered it. “Not now, Ma,” she muttered. “I’m busy.”

“Aashika!” The hysterical edge in her mother’s voice stopped her cold, her rage dying as swiftly as it had erupted. “Amu collapsed.”

Chapter Nineteen

Advik

The hospital was manic, the hallways jammed with sick patients and their anxious family members. Advik followed Aastha down a long corridor, weaving through the damp press of humanity at the end of its desperate tether.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said, her gaze razor focused on her path. She’d clearly been here many times, done this frequently enough, that she didn’t need to ask anyone for directions.

Advik didn’t bother with a reply. He just kept going, following her lead. They finally reached their destination, the emergency ward. Aastha’s mother sat outside in a plastic chair, scrolling on her phone.

“Ma.”

Binita looked up, relief covering her features. “Oh good. You’re here. I can go then. You let me know what the doctor says, okay?”

And with a hasty goodbye to the two of them, she disappeared into the throng of people. Advik watched her almost run out of there, disbelief swirling through him. That was it? She was just going to walk away while her child was in hospital?

“I have to speak to the doctor,” Aastha murmured, disappearing through the double doors.

And that left only him standing outside there like a lost chimp. He looked around and spotted a coffee machine. Aastha had always liked a cup of coffee when she was stressed out. Of course, those were her exquisitely brewed coffees not this weak piss-brown liquid that dripped into the little paper cup as he stood there staring at it and feeling useless.

He picked up the cup and was about to toss it in the garbage can when Aastha reappeared with a good looking man beside her. A good looking man in scrubs and a surgical cap. Her sister needed surgery?

He watched as the other man drew Aastha in for a hug, gently holding her as she wiped her tears. The stupid paper cup with watery brown liquid in it crunched a little as his fingers vised around it. He walked forward, forcing the stab of jealousy down as he approached them.

Advik scoured his brain for her sister’s name but came up empty. Anaya? Ayana? “How’s your sister?” he asked, settling on that rather than risking a wrong name.

“She’s stable,” Dr. Dick answered, smiling gently at Aastha before turning to Advik. “And you are?”

“Her fiancé.” That came out a little more aggressively than he’d intended. Advik swallowed hard, his paper cup making a little crinkling sound from his clenching.

Aastha frowned at him. “Amay,” she said in that soft, husky voice of hers. “This is Advik. Adi, this is Dr. Amay Atre, Amyra’s surgeon.”

“Congratulations,” Amay said warmly, looking at Aastha. “I didn’t know you’d gotten engaged.”

“It was sudden,” she mumbled, looking at her feet. “And recent. Very recent.”

“Your sister needs surgery?” Advik asked, forcing his fingers to unclench before he squished the now tepid coffee into a puddle at their feet.

“She did,” Aastha said, exhaustion in her voice. “And she might need it again in the future.”

“Not in the immediate future,” Amay corrected gently. “For now, she’s okay. The new medication we’re giving her should buy us some time.”

Aastha nodded, smiling tremulously. “Thanks Amay.”

The other man gave her shoulder a last, reassuring squeeze before nodding once at Advik. Aastha watched him go, something undefinable in her eyes.

“Old boyfriend?” Advik asked, the cup in his hand making another squishy noise, the coffee slopping over the side and dripping on to the white tiled floor.

“No,” Aastha murmured. “That would be just you.”

A snort of laughter escaped him. Aastha smiled slightly, enjoying the sound of it. “Was that for me?”

Advik stared at the mess in his hand, still grinning. “Ahh fuck it,” he sighed, chucking the cup in the nearest trash can and using a tissue from a nearby dispenser to wipe his hand. “Starbucks?” he offered. “There’s got to be one somewhere close by.”