Page 163 of Wasted Grace

I liked French press instead of a coffee machine. I enjoyed a sectional, gray couch instead of a maroon one that my parentsused to have. I loved sitcoms instead of thrillers. That I find medium-firm mattresses better than the firm ones.

That led me to understand that my idea of peace was stupidly outdated. And the version Iam, desires something else.

Desires...Advik.

Which brings me to today—a year later. Three months of casual...stalking. Yes, I’d call it that. Because I genuinely wanted to understand what his life looked like when I wasn’tcontrollingit.

I had a piece of myself always embedded into his life. But for the past year, I was truly gone. With warning even.

And he was... rebuilding. Without hope. Without a miracle.

He hadn’t done this even when he thought I was dead. And now—when he knew I was still alive, somewhere—he was movingforward.

I smile as I remember his face when he met with his family over Diwali celebrations. He looked happy. And I think that part helped me understand that we both had finally reached a point of mutual peace. In our own world.

I missed him.I really fucking missed him.

Given that I was stalking the man—it was obvious. But I never sought him out.

Icouldn’t. Our lives were inching away. And the dread of that reality was settling in my heart. That I had run from him.Again.

This time though, I remembered it.

Our last kiss, our last hug, last laugh—last fuck. I remembered all of itvividly.

I enter the bar, my usual routine to test my skills I had gained over the past months. I felt happier with my life. I had a job I enjoyed. I was honorably discharged from RAW. I even had colleagues I could call... friends.

Which is why I’m here today. With two of them—the ones based in my city.

“Seriously—if I could just strangle him once a week, I’d be in a better place,” Sakshi grumbles quietly beside me. Eyeing Gautam opposite us.

We’re at a table—fries forgotten between us—arguing over the latest project. Gautam and Sakshi butt heads all the time, even though he’s our senior. But I feel a weird tension between them every time Gautam opens his mouth.

I mostly ignore it.

“What did you say, Ms. Sakshi?” He smiles through his glass.

She rolls her eyes before giving him a saccharine sweet smile. “Nothing, sir. I was telling her that I’m excited about ournextproject. You know—the one whereyouaren’t involved?”

I snort at her bluntness. Onlyshecan manage to bait a man like Gautam.

I lean closer to Sakshi. “I’m getting another drink for myself.”

I grab a few fries off the plate, stuffing them in my mouth, and then I get up and walk over to the bar.

Solitude helps. I signal the bartender, requesting a refill on my Long Island iced tea.

Yep, I’ve become abasic Delhi bitch.

I’m sipping through the straw when I feel a presence next to me.

The man grabs a seat next to my bar chair, casually signaling the bartender pointing to my drink. Guess I won’t be paying for my drink tonight.

“That’s your favorite drink?” His voice rumbles next to me—too close.

I feel goosebumps rise on my hand that’s too damn close to his own. “Um... yeah. Newly developed taste.”

I turn my head and stare at him. His light beard is covering most of his face, a smirk positively hidden under the scruff. I smile back.