Page 43 of Wasted Grace

??????

Except now—she wasn’t giggling.

And she was riding.

Helmet in hand. That damn machine already hers before she even straddled it.

Behenchod.

I never taught her to ride. I never thought she could. Did I evenknowher?

“Gr—Aadya!” I fumble and call out, breath catching.

She turns. Tilts her head, acknowledging me like I’m a mildly interesting speck in her peripheral vision.

I reach her just as she’s chucking her keys out.

“Vikram?” I ask, breathless. “Is that...”

She frowns, but somehow understands my broken one-word question. That I want to share this with Vikram.

“Just not about the undercover stuff.”

I nod. Watch her slide the helmet on, all sleek and calm.

She climbs the bike like she was born on it.

The damn thing belongs to her.

I look at her and know—

She could’ve taughtmehow to ride.

And I’d laughed at her scooty like a dumbass.

She backs out clean, no hesitation. Gives me a nod.

And in the next breath—

She’s gone.

The bike roars to life.

Tears down the drive like death doesn’t scare her.

Like I don’t scare her.

And I stand there, hands on my knees, breath ragged.

Watching the woman I thought I knew vanish into the street.

Again.

??????

“I told you he doesn’t like that weird-assraitaof yours!” Ishika groans, eyeing my barely touched bowl like it offended her family.

I raise a brow at my brother. “You made this?”