Page 62 of Cherish my Heart

Not until I absolutely have to. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask anything about Aarav’s last remark. The realization dawns on me: He knew. He always knew, didn’t he?

“You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” I whisper, not wanting him to hear the question because I don’t want his answer; I already know his answer.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice as calm as ever, “I always do a background check.” He says softly, “You were going to be my assistant, so I had to check.” I let that sink. He’s right; he is a known figure. He can’t let anyone and everyone get close to him; it could be dangerous. But it doesn’t change the fact that he could have let me know at least that he knew; he let me act like a fool.

“Is that why?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. Bitter, like the aftertaste of betrayal. “Is that why you let me get away with everything? Why did you treat me…differently?”

He frowns. “Aditi—”

“No, seriously.” I stand now, finally meeting his eyes, every cell in my body shaking. “Was it because I’m a Malhotra?” My heart pounds. “That’s why you never yelled when I missed that deadline. Or when I left early or took a holiday without any prior notice?” I laugh. Short, sharp. A lump forms in my throat.

“Aditi, no. That’s not—" He takes a step closer, hand reaching out like he wants to fix something. But I step back.

“Don’t.” My voice is a whisper now. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

His expression falls. “I wasn’t treating you differently because of your last name. I never cared about that.”

“Yeah?” I snort, “Then why let me act so long? You could have told me that you knew I was lying.” I rub the back of my palm against my eyes to stop the tears that are threatening to flow.

“Abhimaan,” I murmur. “I’m quitting,” I say quietly. My voice shakes, but I don’t take it back. “Thank you for being the best mentor I could’ve asked for.”

“Aditi—”

“There’s nothing to explain, Abhimaan,” I cut in, a sad smile on my lips. “I get it. Trust me, I do. I’ve lived with this name my whole life.” I pause, letting the silence sit between us. “I hate it.”

He steps toward me again, his eyes pleading. “Let me explain.”

But I’m already at the door. I glance back one last time. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”

And I leave.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Because if I do, I’ll break.

The tears start the moment the door clicks shut behind me. I duck my head, walking faster through the hallway, trying to find a place—any place—where no one can see me like this.

Ihatecrying in public. I look awful. My nose gets red, my face blotchy, and my breath all uneven.

Why am I even crying?

It’s not like we wereanything. Not officially. Not publicly. He never promised me anything.

But still...itfeltlike something.

And now it’s gone.

Like every other time, my name got in the way.

God, I’m so tired of this.

I wipe at my cheeks angrily, but the tears keep coming. I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate how much it hurts even when it shouldn’t.

Because there was nothing there.

Nothing.