Page 6 of Glass Jawed

Aarohi

I collapse onto my bed the second I hit send.

The night hadn’t gone how I expected, and I couldn’t quite understand Lucian’s motives. He seemed... affected. Like the words he’d said that night—those words—were finally sinking in. Maybe it was on me to clear the air. To actually start fresh.

We couldn’t keep pretending we were strangers sharing polite drinks when there was an elephant parked between us. So I addressed it. Was it wrong to bring it up? Maybe. But I couldn’t stand the way he kept looking at me—like I was something inconvenient.

Something he regretted bumping into.

He was right.

We should start over.

I stare at my screen, waiting for it to light up.

Knowing Kashvi will call once she sees the message is already soothing.

I once saw a video of Simon Sinek saying that sometimes, all you need is eight minutes with a friend to calm a storm inside you.

I’m probably paraphrasing, but the concept stuck.

Since then, Kashvi and I had a deal: when either of us was spiraling, we’d text the other.

Do you have 8 minutes?

A quiet code for I need you.

My phone buzzes just under three minutes later. Her name flashes across the screen and I smile, relief loosening my shoulders.

Kashvi.

My best friend of twenty years. We grew up together, clung to each other through school, through breakups, through undergrad applications and real-world jobs. Even when distance pulled us apart geographically, we never really drifted.

I swipe to answer. “Hey...”

My voice cracks. There’s something stuck in my throat—leftover dread from the drinks. From him .

“What happened? Are you okay?” Kashvi’s voice is immediate, sharp with concern.

I close my eyes, letting the sound of her voice settle something in me.

“Not really,” I murmur. “But I will be.”

“Tell me.”

Kashvi doesn’t waste time. Her voice drops into that tone—soft, serious, the one she only uses when I’m unraveling. It’s like a drill. She knows how to get things out of me, and I’m too tired to resist.

I push off the bed and wander to the tiny kitchen area of my apartment. My flatmate, Charlotte, isn’t here—probably on her night shift, bartending.

My hands move on autopilot, grabbing a bag of plain potato chips from the shelf and ripping it open.

“This is my dinner,” I announce, flopping back onto the bed. “Chips.”

“You had paratha and yogurt for lunch.”

“Yogurt’s protein,” I mumble, crunching into a chip. “It balances out.”

“Aarohi.”

Shit. Full name.

“Okay, okay.” I wipe my hand on my pajama pants and blow out a breath. “I ran into someone today.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Rohi, I swear to god, if you say Tim—”

“Lucian.”

“...Lucian? As in the Lucian? The boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I correct, staring at the ceiling like it might give me an out. “Tim’s ex. The one who—”

“I know who,” she cuts in, her voice tight now. “Where? How? Why? Ugh!”

I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “Guest lecturer for my entrepreneurship class for a month. Apparently, he’s this big shot in pet healthcare or something. Came in to give us a talk and... yeah.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

A pause.

“You okay?” she asks gently.

“Not really.” I sigh. “It was... weird. He didn’t seem like he remembered me at first. But then he did. And we ended up grabbing a drink.”

“A drink?”

“Not like that,” I say quickly. “He just... wanted to talk. I think.”

Kash goes quiet for a moment. “Rohi, this... I don’t understand why a man would want to talk to someone their partner cheated with—a full year after it happened.”

“To humiliate me more?”

She bristles. “Revenge?”

I chuckle bitterly. “That was my first thought too. But I don’t know. He was...” I hesitate, fingers tightening around the chip bag. “He was nice? Sort of? Cold at first. Then... I told him about the comment. You know. About not looking like a woman.”

She groans audibly. “God, that comment . I still want to fly to Toronto and punch him for it. Vancouver isn’t far, you know!”

“Yeah, well.” I shrug again. “He looked gutted. Like properly horrified. He even apologized. And then he... AskedMeOutToDinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“Huh?” I ask innocently.

“Rohi... I’ll fucking—”

“Fine,” I groan. “Yeah... he asked me out. He was very charming about it too.”

“Did he flirt?”

I smile faintly. “Yeah. Subtle. But... yeah.”

“He’s bi then?”

“He said so. In a very annoyingly charming way.”

Kashvi exhales like she’s sorting through a mental checklist. “Okay. So. You’re going to have dinner with him?”

“Yeah?” I hesitate. “Is that stupid?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Yes. But... fuck—I don’t understand him. What exactly did he say? Like word for word.”

I blink. “Umm... something about how the professor-student thing is a romantic taboo setup.”

She coughs and I know she’s trying to hide her amused laugh.

“And?”

I sigh. “And that I’m more like a woman he’s ever met... or something. I don’t remember.”

Lie. I remember it clearly.

’You look more like a woman than anyone I’ve ever met.’

“Damn!” She whistles. “Wait... I mean. You don’t have to date him. But you also don’t have to avoid him like a plague victim. Set boundaries. Stay guarded. But if he wants to talk? Let him. It might help you move on too.”

I pop another chip in my mouth, even though I’m not hungry. “Kash...”

“I know. I’m not saying trust him. Just... see where this goes. Maybe for closure. This is the man who’s words made you spiral back a decade. All your work to help with those issues, and he just... BAM!”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

There’s a pause. A knowing one.

“And also,” she adds, “you need to schedule a therapy session.”

I sigh. Fucking hell.

“Rohi.”

“I know.”

“It’s been a month since you stopped. You were making progress. Don’t undo it because some hot bisexual man with nice shoulders decided to apologize.”

“I hate how well you know me.”

“I’ve had twenty years of practice, baby.”

I smile. “Thanks, Kash.”

“You got this. But seriously—therapy. Tomorrow. Or I’ll fuck you up !”

“Fine,” I roll my eyes.

“Good. I gotta go, but... put down the chips and drink some water before your sodium levels kill you.”

“Love you too.”

She hangs up, and the silence left behind doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

??????

“Could you make that decaf? My heart’s still recovering from yesterday.”

The woman at the counter laughs at her own joke, and I muster a tired smile as I nod. I didn’t sleep well last night. But that was a given—considering I was replaying the entire interaction with Lucian in my head. Taking it apart, trying to make sense of it.

“Sure thing,” I reply, punching in the order on the screen. “One almond milk latte, decaf.”

The customer taps her phone to the reader and shuffles aside with a cheerful thank-you. I am about to greet the next customer in line when the main door opens.

My stomach drops.

Lucian fucking Vale just walked in.

He’s not alone—there are two other men with him, one in a navy suit, the other in a bomber jacket over a hoodie. All three look like they could sit on a startup panel and argue about VC rounds for sport.

This café-bar hybrid I work at is usually crawling with freelancers and remote workers who plug in for six hours and tip a measly 10%. It’s not uncommon to see semi-formal meetings, but I hadn’t prepared myself for him to show up in my space.

I don’t look up until I hear him.

“Aarohi,” he says, smooth and warm. Like honey.

I meet his gaze—and immediately regret it. His smile is slow, delighted. Gentle. Like he’s unreasonably happy to see me.

“Hi,” I manage, tight but polite. “What can I—”

“This is Liam,” he nods to the suited man, “my COO. And Jordan—one of Kepler’s angel investors.”

I offer them both a polite smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

He turns slightly to the men beside him. “Guys, this is Aarohi Talwar. She’s studying at Rotman and worked in U.S. telehealth before that.”

Jordan, the one in the hoodie, perks up. “Oh yeah? Which company?”

“Mindnest,” I say. “It... uh—didn’t survive past seed funding.”

Jordan whistles. “Still, U.S. telehealth’s brutal. That’s impressive.”

Liam, the suit, doesn’t say much—just eyes Lucian with faint amusement before flicking his gaze to me. Great. He’s picked up on something.

Lucian steps in again. “She’s also the reason I’ll be paying extra attention to my guest lectures from now on.”

I blink.

Jordan chuckles. Liam smirks. Lucian doesn’t look at them. His eyes haven’t left me.

I clear my throat.

“What can I get you guys?” I ask, pretending like that comment didn’t crawl down my spine.

Jordan orders first. “Americano, no room.”

Liam follows. “Flat white. Oat milk.”

Lucian takes his time. “Drip. Black. No sugar.”

Of course.

After paying, they move toward a quiet booth near the back and I try not to stumble through the next few orders. But I can feel his gaze on me. Unrelenting. Like he’s carving something out of the moment.

When the rush eases, I sneak a glance at my phone under the counter.

Lucian: I was trying to find a reason to text you. Guess the universe just made things easier.

I glance up.

He’s not talking. Just watching me. Like he knows I read it. Like he’s waiting. He taps on his phone, all while his eyes are locked on me.

Another buzz.

Lucian: One look and I forgot my pitch deck.

I stare at my phone. My fingers curl around the edge of the counter.

No.

No, no, no.

I look up again—but this time, his smile is different.

There’s something predatory in it. Something that promises he’s just getting started.

And for some stupid reason, my heart skips anyway.