Page 72 of The Promise of a Traitor

“I will also set aside a percentage of whatever salary you choose to pay me, to pay towards the considerable debt that will still remain.”

“And what will your parents do?”

She stiffened at the sound of Advik’s voice. What was he doing here? Panic swirled through her but she didn’t turn to face him.

“My parents will have their hands full with my sister’s care and medical expenses,” she answered, still looking at Aakash.

“Bullshit.”

Kanak’s eyebrows rose at Advik’s interjection. He strode forward, stopping in front of Aastha forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You’ve been carrying that family. You’re still doing it. What are you going to live on if you give Chachu the café and a portion of your earnings? Love and fresh air?”

“I guess fresh air would have to do,” she drawled. “You’ve made it pretty clear love is off the table.”

Kanak snickered from behind him but Advik’s furious glare didn’t leave her. “I think,” Kanak said, swallowing the rest of her laughter, “we should leave the two of them to discuss it further.”

“But,” Aakash spoke, his voice lightened with amusement, “this meeting is between Aastha and I. Advik and you should be the ones leaving.”

Aastha leaned to one side to look at Aakash around Advik’s legs. “Thank you,” she said, politely. “I would like that. Although, Mrs. Thakkar can stay.”

Advik dropped to his knees in front of her, to her eye level. His furious eyes met hers. “What the fuck are your parents doing to support you? Tell me why you think you need to carry every single problem, every single issue, every single debt in your family all on your own. Why the hell are you the only one paying for their mistakes?”

“I’m the mistake. I caused it! All of it!” she yelled, years of frustration, pain and suppressed grief unleashing in a strangled scream. “I’m the reason for everything. My father was right…he should have killed me in the womb!”

She collapsed into raw sobs, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking, chest heaving. After a long moment, she felt strong hands wrap around her, holding her close.

“Your father,” Kanak said, her voice shaking with fury and outrage, “should have been shot the day he made that statement.”

Aastha was crying too hard to get a word out. She just shook her head and continued to sob in Kanak’s embrace, the dam she kept around her emotions shattering like cheap glass. She felt Kanak transfer her into Advik’s familiar embrace. Her sobs slowed, hiccups setting in. A glass of water was pressed into her hand and she lifted it with a trembling hand to her lips.

“My father fixed my alliance when I was eight,” she said, her breath catching with every second word. “Manish’s father made a huge investment in one of his business deals. Our engagement was part of the deal. Manish was five years older than me so the understanding was that we would be married when I turned eighteen.”

She took another shuddering breath and continued, “But, I begged my father to let me go to New York. All I wanted was a chance to study, to live a little, before I came back and got married. I got the grades, I got the scholarship, I got a part time job, I got everything…he just needed to trust me and let me go.”

“He did,” she said, sadly. “But he was wrong to do that. I met you and I…I fell in love. I think my father knew something was wrong, or he could sense it. He demanded I came home immediately. He yanked my funding, and without that, I didn’t have a shot at staying on. My scholarship was not going to hack it. So, I thought…Okay. I could live my entire life in those few weeks with you and then come back and do the right thing for my family.”

When she took another shuddering breath, Kanak pressed another glass of water into her hands. She’d finished the first glass, she thought dimly as Advik removed it from her hand and placed it on a table.

“But I couldn’t.” Her hand shook so badly that water sloshed over the rim of the glass she was still holding. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You called it off,” Kanak said gently. “You had every right to make choices for yourself, Aastha.”

“But it wasn’t for myself.” She sent Kanak an anguished glance. “That choice of mine destroyed everyone. My parents, Amyra, and Advik. Manish’s father pulled his investment, bankrupting my father. We left the wedding venue in disgrace. My father was so angry. He kept screaming at me as we drove home that night, turning around in the driver’s seat to abuse me. He didn’t see the lorry parked on the side of the road in the dark and the car clipped it. We,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “spun over, turned turtle, crashed through the divider and into oncoming traffic on the other side. My father was bleeding from his head and arm, my mother had a broken wrist and bruised ribs but Amu…” She stopped talking to firm up her voice before continuing, “She took the brunt of it. She had severe head and abdominal trauma. She still has seizures, a lifelong side effect of that day.”

“And you?” Advik asked, his voice impossibly gentle.

“Does it matter what happened to me?” she asked, her voice empty of emotion. It felt like every single feeling had been pulled out of her and laid bare.

“It does,” he replied, pulling her close. “You always matter, Aastha.”

“I walked away without a scratch from the accident,” she said tonelessly. “But everything was gone. With one decision, I’d ruined everyone. I broke our life. I broke them. I had to fix it. I have to fix it.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Advik asked, giving her a slight shake.

“How could I?” she asked. “After what I’d done to you. I’d destroyed us too and there was no going back. Only forward.”

“We’re going to leave the two of you to talk,” Kanak said briskly, her hand gently smoothening Aastha’s tangled hair back from her face. “It’s going to be okay,” she said with a sad smile.