Page 109 of Illicit Games

“Sure, baby.”

Hurrying down the hall, I do my business and touch up my makeup. Now that the honeymoon phase is over, I have to focus on the other pressing matters. I need to touch base with Harshita to see if she’s made any progress on the case. At the office, I have to look for the investigator Kian hired to stay under the radar while I do my own research.

I’m running over the plan in my head as I walk back to the dining area. Kian is hanging up the phone when I enter the room. “Who was it? Was it my mom?”

“Rainbow.”

“It was her, wasn’t it? We have to meet her for dinner. I was thinking tonight—”

“Iris.”

“What?” My grin drops when I see his grim expression, awash with despair and sympathy. “What is it?”

“It’s yourdadu, Iris. He…”

“No!”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No!” I choke out, my knees giving out. Before I can touch the ground, Kian’s by my side and pulling me against his chest. “No! No.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Iris

He went to sleep last night and never woke up.

He’s gone forever without a goodbye. Or without the universe giving us a chance to take him to the hospital. Just gone like the wind.

The room is flooded with his knickknacks, his clothes, his favorite slippers, the wheelchair he used in the last year, and so much more. Everything is as it is, but he’s nowhere to be seen, making the room lifeless.

I went inside once and couldn’t stick around for more than a few seconds before the happy and wholesome memories overwhelmed me. I haven’t stepped foot inside since.

It doesn’t matter that he lived a full life, loved me endlessly, showered and pampered me like a grandparent dotes on their grandchild. It deepens the sorrow and agony I’m feeling like a live wire inside my chest.

His passing is hurting worse than losing my grandma did. Mostly because I was fourteen when she died and the memories of her last days faded. But mydadu’s, every moment is vividsince he became sick, then watching him wither in front of my eyes, losing his spark bit by bit, although he tried to hide it.

What depresses me the most is that he didn’t get to witness me getting married to the man I truly love. I guess a part of me knew he might be gone by the time Kian and I decide to marry, but still, I kept the hope alive.

The hope has turned into ashes. A dream that’ll never come true.

Low chatter hums around me as I sit in my bedroom, but it doesn’t penetrate my brain. It’s background noise. Every relative and family friend who has shown up in the last week is uttering the same repetitive words about how sorry they are for our loss and how he went peacefully, as if that’s supposed to lessen our grief. It doesn’t matter whether a person dies young or old because grief doesn’t discriminate. As long as you love the person, the pain at their loss is a permanent ache in your soul.

Half of my relatives came expecting lavish treatment because I have a billionaire boyfriend. As if they’re not here for a funeral, but a party.

I know it because I heard them say so when they thought I wasn’t around.

Empathy is a thing of the past, it seems.

A palm touches my knee, followed by an arm wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me against a chest that smells like my safe haven. “Rainbow, you have to eat.”

“Not hungry.” My voice is hoarse from crying the past seven days.

Kian sighs. “Have a bite. For me, please.”

“Here,” I hear Bianca murmur. “Give her some soup.”

Kian and the girls haven’t left my side since day one. My friends spend the night so I’m not alone, while Kian goes to his apartment. He knows I have to be with my family, plus he respects my parents and knows it won’t be appropriate for himto stay the night as we’re not married and people will gossip. However, as soon as the sun is up, he’s by my side, even though I hardly speak.