Page 12

Clearly, Kabir’s drunken antics had gotten to him. I wasn’t up for another alcoholic man who needed support. I also didn’t believe Leora initially. She told me over breakfast—where, of course, Kabir was nowhere to be found—that he had been wasted out of his mind last night.

Not just tipsy. Gone. Slurring.

At first, I laughed it off. Kabir didn’t drink like that. It wasn’t his thing. But then Leora told me how he was mumbling my name, cussing out Sebastian, barely able to walk straight as Logan all but dragged him to his room.

And Logan? Oh, he made sure I knew.

Apparently, Kabir had strong feelings for me. Feelings worth explaining.

Sure.

I could give him a chance to explain.

What I couldn’t do was erase the memory of his rejection.

For years, he’d been so open with me—but he’d closed himself off recently. I knew where he studied, where his family lived, how his little sister, Kavya, recently completed her PhD in Medical Sexism and Bioethics.

That little detail? The fact that I even remembered it? Mind-boggling.

Medical Sexism and Bioethics?

I didn’t even know why, but the words stuck.

But, I needed straight answers. No more devastated looks, no more unsaid things hanging between us. And if he couldn’t give me that?

Then I’d exile him to hell. Or, as Kabir would say, Bhaad mei jaa.

What was the point of me memorizing little phrases in his language over the years if he didn’t even give a damn?

The shower was running, meaning I had minutes, maybe seconds, before he walked in—wet, fresh, and way too unreasonably attractive for my current mental state.

I set the tray on his nightstand. Egg salad, spicy oatmeal, orange juice. Then sat on the edge of his bed and waited.

When the bathroom door clicked, my spine straightened on instinct.

A nervous buzz ran through me as the door swung open—and then there he was. Kabir.

Not wrapped in a towel like I expected. Just boxers.

I exhaled slowly. Thank the gods I barely believe in.

Towels were too dangerous. One flick, and they fell right off.

At least with boxers, there were extra steps. Steps I’d have to—

Shut. Up.

He still hadn’t noticed me. Just went to his closet, pulling out a white shirt and black shorts, his back to me.

I was about to clear my throat when he suddenly spoke.

“I thought you’d be resting .”

I blinked at his bitterness.

“It’s almost noon, Kabir.”

He knew I was here the whole time. Of course he did.

When he turned, his gaze flicked over my face, then to the breakfast tray.

“Is that for me, sweetheart?”

I frowned at the endearment.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

His smirk was instant. He crossed the room with that ridiculous confidence of his and knelt in front of me.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he grabbed the glass of juice and took a slow, deliberate sip.

And, like an idiot, I found myself swallowing air right along with him.

He set the glass down, his hands finding their place on my knees.

“Thank you for bringing this for me.”

His voice was low. Too damn smooth.

Panic shot through me and I jumped up, creating space between us.

Kabir stood slowly, watching me carefully.

“We need to talk, Lia.”

“Like how we talked the day after we kissed?”

His hands went up in surrender.

“No. And… we didn’t kiss. That isn’t how I’d kiss you. You kissed me , and I fucked it up.”

I rolled my eyes and dropped onto the far edge of his bed. He did the same.

“Alright… so… there’s something you need to know.”

He didn’t speak for so long that I exhaled sharply, loudly—because if he wasn’t going to say something, I might combust from frustration.

Communicate, Kabir!

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his hands together as if trying to warm himself.

“When I was at MIT, I met this girl. She was Indian, an immigrant—like me.”

My stomach clenched out of jealousy.

“She was my best friend,” he continued, voice oddly detached. “For five years, she was the person I told everything to. The one who always had my back. My world was better with her in it.”

I swallowed hard. The parallel to us was screaming.

“When I got placed at NASA, she kissed me and we started dating.”

That threw me. I had expected some messy, unspoken, one-sided love. Not this.

“We were together for almost three months.” His fingers curled into fists. “I loved her in a way I thought she loved me too.”

I felt my pulse in my throat, thudding, thudding, thudding.

“And then, one night, she came home,” he continued, staring blankly past me. “Smiling. Giddy. She told me she had the best sex of her life.”

My whole body stiffened.

“Not with me.” His bitter smile cut through me.

I inhaled sharply, horrified.

“She told me over dinner,” he went on, his voice now eerily calm.

“It’s stupid, but I remember having my favorite egg curry dish.

Anyway… she said it like it was a casual update.

Like she was telling me about a good book she read.

I thought she was joking at first. Thought maybe I misheard her.

But then she kept going, telling me how much she enjoyed his hands on her.

How she spent hours talking in his embrace. ”

I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. “Kabir…”

“I asked her, ‘what about me?’ ,” he whispered. “And she said, ‘I just thought we should give it a try because I loved you as a friend. I thought… why not?’”

I flinched.

“She said it like it was a compliment.” His laugh was empty, hollow. “Like I should be grateful she even considered me. That I was worth trying out, you know, an experiment.”

A chilling smile spread across his face. My fingers curled into the bedsheet.

“And then she said,” he exhaled sharply, “that she’d always loved me, but not like that. That she just wanted to see if kissing me would change it. That dating me would…”

I didn’t realize I was shaking until I felt the tremor in my own voice. “But it didn’t.”

“No.” He gave me a flat, empty smile. “It didn’t. Not for her.”

My stomach twisted, my throat closing around the awful, disgusting realization. She never wanted him, not really. She loved him like a habit. Like something she never had to think about.

“She never loved me, really. Not in any way,” he echoed my thoughts, voice quieter now. “Definitely not the way I loved her. She was comfortable with me. She trusted me. But I was just a safe option. Just one of the choices. Replaceable.”

I blinked rapidly against the sting in my eyes. I did not like where this was going.

“I asked her,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Why she never told me she had doubts. Why she let me believe we were real. She just said, ‘I thought we were on the same page.’”

A heavy silence wrapped around us.

“That’s when I realized,” he said, jaw tightening, “that even after everything—after a years of friendship, months of dating, after kissing me, touching me… after fucking me—she only thought I was one of the options. Not even a top contender, might I add. I was just… there. Familiar. Safe. Fucking naive.”

His face twisted in self-disgust.

“And that was the day I decided that I would never, ever let that happen again.”

He finally looked at me then.

And he looked frustrated.

“I kept my mouth shut all these years, though,” his voice was hoarse. “I never said anything to you. I wanted to tell you. God! I wanted to tell you. But even telling you would’ve given you the wrong idea. It might have been everything . Or it would’ve reduced us to nothing .”

I tried to swallow past the burn in my throat.

“And then you kissed me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, but no less sharp. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides. “And it confused the shit out of me, Lia. Because it was happening all over again. The woman I’m in love with—” his breath hitched, “—kissing me.”

His words should’ve made my heart soar. Should’ve had me saying everything I’d been keeping inside.

But instead, they burned.

“This isn’t the same,” I swore, voice trembling.

“Isn’t it?” His lips twisted into something bitter. “You kissed me, and when I didn’t give you what you wanted right away, you ran. To him. And now you’re with him. You made me into an option, Lia.”

Now, that made me fucking furious.

“I ran because you rejected me!” My voice rose before I could stop it. My body scrambling up before I could stop it.

His eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring like he was barely holding himself back.

“Then you should’ve fought me on it!” He snapped, got up, and took a sharp step toward me.

“Fought yo—what the fuck?” I demanded and paced away from him. “This is ridiculous. You told me you’d fucking wingman me.”

Turning back, I threw a hard glare at him. “And I have some self-respect, Kabir. This whole outburst? Fully avoidable. You’ve just landed us deep in the middle of miscommunication hell!”

He exhaled sharply, hands threading through his damp hair, still fresh from the shower. When he looked back at me, his face was thunderous.

He bit out. “This is not miscommunication . You don’t know what the fuck you want, Amelia. You never have.”

“That is not true,” I snapped.

“Isn’t it?” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “You think I don’t see it? Being my closest friend. Kissing me . And now you’re testing the waters with Sebastian? Nursing your wound of rejection?”

“Yes! Rejection. Your rejection, Kabir!”

“Six years!” He roared and then bowed his head, continuing in a low whisper. “Six fucking years. I was fine. I was fucking fine!”

His face crumpled in suppressed anguish.

“Then, you kissed me. I was shocked. And yet, here we are.”

I shook my head, stepping toward him. “Kabir, I—”

“You think I’ll take being someone’s fucking placeholder now? Being your option?” He laughed bitterly, eyes glistening with angry tears. He shook his head. “I’m in love with you, Amelia Desmond. And I have kept this inside for years. I buried it.”

His chest rose and fell heavily.

“But, sweetheart ,” he spat the endearment, making me flinch. “You dug that grave out when your lips met mine.”

He took another step closer, until I could feel his breath against my face.

“You want to date Sebastian?”

I wanted to shake my head—tell him the truth—but his hand shot out, gripping my jaw. He wasn’t rough, but his grip was tight enough to jerk my head up.

“You think you need to make a choice?”

I swallowed, hard.

“You think you have a choice?”

I couldn’t breathe when he let out a menacing chuckle.

“I am your only fucking option, Lia.”

And just like that, he let go, stepping back like I was the one who burned.

He picked up the breakfast tray without another word, without another glance, and walked out of the room—leaving me drowning in everything I hadn’t said.