She takes one sip before side-eyeing me. “Do you evenknowwhat just happened?”
My gaze finally pulls from Rohi. “What do you mean?”
She grins, like I’m an idiot. “Kiki Aunty smearinghaldion both of you? That’s like... an informalblessing, dumbass.”
My brows shoot up. I scan the crowd for Aunty, who’s dancing and vibing like she just blessed no big deal.
“Really?” I ask, dazed.
Kashvi nods, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And Rohi smearing it back on you? At someoneelse’sfunction?” She leans in dramatically. “That’s millennial code for I want you.Bad.”
I blink.
“She wants me?” The words sound broken coming out. My voice cracks halfway through.
Kashvi snorts. “Yes, Lucifer, she wants you. What a hilariously dumb way to say it, too.” She’s laughing, but I... I’m spiraling.
Defibrillator.Immediately.
I can’t breathe.
She wants me?
Rohi wants me.
She wants me.
“What?” I whisper, eyes locking onto Rohi across the courtyard. She’s laughing and dancing with Ishika and Vikram now. Carefree. Bright.
Kashvi watches me unravel. Then grabs my arm, turning me to face her.
“Are you okay?” she asks, voice suddenly concerned. “You’re—ugh—sweating.”
“She... she...” I feel the tears sting. Not crying. Just... overwhelmed.
Kashvi’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh myGod. No. Stop—stopthat!” She punches my arm. “Are you cryi—” she gags like the word physically offends her. “You’re cry—” she gags again and then storms off, muttering, “Bleach. I need bleach for my brain.”
I’m not technically crying. Just tearing up because the woman I thought I lost forever just told me—in her own chaotic, very Indian way—that maybe, justmaybe... she wants me too.
After everything. After all I broke. After what I put her through.
I slump into a small metal chair behind me, like my knees just gave up trying to hold all this emotion.
She wants me.
Jesus Christ.
I wipe at my eyes discreetly, stare down at my brown sandals, and do my best not to explode into fucking confetti.
I’m so lost in thought, still reeling from everything—what it means, what could be—when a soft blur invades my view.
A delicate finger touches my chin, gently tipping it up.
Rohi is standing there like a dream. Backlit by the sun, she’s nothing short of a silhouette carved straight out of my wildest imaginings. Golden light outlines her, her loose hair catching the breeze, her expression quiet but so full—of emotion, of intent—that I almost come undone all over again.
Her giggles are gone now. Instead, she’s smiling at me like I matter. Like I’ve always mattered. And I—God—I smile back, trying to hold it together.
Her eyes flick around the courtyard, scanning the crowd, looking for someone—something. Then, as if confirming a secret, she bends forward.
