Page 128 of Wasted Grace

Then I hear Lucian quietly admit.

“She was... suicidal for a while, yes. God! I can’t imagine being in her shoes. The way people treated her. Making comments about her body.”

Fuck.Aarohi was suicidal?I can understand why someone would feel that way. But I’d always thought that Advik was exaggerating about her state when he said his protectiveness hinged onsavingher.

My stomach twists.

Maybe I never allowed myself to understand why Advik was the way he was with her. Why he threw himself between her and the world like a human shield.

Because he thought she was breaking. Thinking aboutdying.

Now though—having her husband, her fiancé—confirm it, is somewhat of a blow.

I blink rapidly. Wondering if I’d even been listening when Advik told me about how he and Rohi came about last year. What hisactualfeelings were.

I dismiss the idea quickly though. Ihadbeen listening. I just hadn’t been in a place tobelieve.

Advik’s broken voice reaches me again.

“Well, I blame myself for sleeping with her while I was grieving the woman I love who was... gone.”

I was dead, Advik.Dead—not gone.

But I think he isn’t willing to admit everything to that extent. Perhaps, this Lucian isn’t the best person to confide in.

Then something slams into me like a punch to the chest.

I never gave myself the liberty to think about this. He’d been thinking I wasdeadwhen he slept with her.

But hearing that he was grieving—trulygrieving? Hearing that he waslostwhen he touched someone else? It gives me a reluctant sense of... understanding.

Possibly. Given that right after he slept with her, he went to his brother and admitted his brutal truth. That apparently he wasin love with me.

And just as quickly, I realize. I wasn’t hurt that hesleptwith Rohi. I was hurt because he slept withRohi.

But the way they’re speaking about the night that broke me—is alarming. They’re...okaywith it. Comfortable even. Knowing that they’vesharedthe same woman.

I cringe slightly at my thought process.

“Jesus Christ. I always wondered why you didn’t fight for Rohi, given your history. Now I think I get it.”

He didn’t?

“Yeah. Because I never would’ve fought for her in the first place. You had nothing to worry about.”

Advik says it so casually. Like it’s an afterthought. Like it’s not something that tears his heart out. Just a conclusion he’d reached eventually.

I stare at my hands. Willing them to stop shaking. Hoping—praying—that I don’t let my heart sway too much with the words I’ve overheard. But it’s too late, I reckon.

“She’s the only one I’d fight for. But I might’ve already lost her. For good.”

That breaks me. I can hear it. Becausethisis what actually tears his heart out. Not his earlier admission about Rohi.

Not his guilt. Not his explanations. But thefinalityin his voice.

He thinks I’m gone.

And unfortunately he’s right.