I grab her bag, sling it over my shoulder, and open the door for her. She steps out, clutching the bouquet like it’s a lifeline.
We make our way across the parking lot to the elevator lobby, her heels clicking softly against the concrete, her arm brushing mine now and then.
And then—
A deafening blast shakes the ground.
The impact hits like a punch to the chest.
I spin around.
My car, my car—is engulfed in flames.
My ears ring. I don’t even think. Just drop her bag and throw my arms around her, shielding her as smoke and fire fill the space behind us.
She screams, a sharp, fearful sound that rips through me.
I hold her tighter, pressing her head to my chest, trying to block out the chaos.
Glass rains somewhere. Alarms blare. The heat creeps toward us even from a distance. My heart was thudding in my ribcage.
I don’t say anything. I just move. Grab her hand, and lead her to the elevator that hasn’t been damaged. I press the button with more force than necessary, every muscle in my body coiled tight.
Inside the elevator, she’s shaking. Her lips parted soundlessly, eyes wide. Her eyes are full of fear, confusion, and questions.
We reach her floor. She fumbles for the keycode, missing it twice before I step in and enter it for her as she whispers the code.
Once inside, she just sinks onto the couch like her knees can’t hold her anymore.
“I’ll get you water,” I say. My voice sounds rough, even to my own ears.
In her kitchen, my hands are trembling. Just slightly. But enough to make me grip the counter for a second.
That car. We were just in that car.
She could’ve—
I close my eyes and push the thought away.
When I return, she’s still staring blankly at the wall, the flowers beside her now forgotten. Her eyes find mine when I sit beside her and hand her the glass.
She doesn’t drink it.
She sets it down and throws her arms around my torso instead. It’s sudden. Fierce. Her grip was like a vise.
“If you hadn’t come up with me…” she whispers. “You would’ve died.”
I don’t know what to say. So I just hold her back.
Tighter.
I inhale the scent of her hair—floral and warm. She smells like safety. Like something I was never supposed to have but now can’t let go of.
I try to lighten the mood. “Lesson for me, I guess. Always obey Aditi.”
She pulls back and glares at me, though her eyes are glassy.
“I’m serious.”
