Page 65 of Wasted Grace

My voice cracks again. “I killed her, Vicky.”

His whole body jerks back. “What the fuck are you on about? You didn’t kill her!”

“I was supposed to watch her—”

“No. That’s not... Advik, it wasn’t your job. It was Bimla aunty’s fault. That maid who used to help around the house? I told her I was going cycling—”

“No.” I shake my head, confused. “There was no one else there. It was justme.”

He blinks hard. “Advik, she was there. Papa told me later. She made some snacks that evening for the two of us before Mom and Dad left. She just didn’t watch you both properly.”

My entire body stills. “You’re saying... I wasn’t alone?”

“No,” he says slowly, eyes pooling. “You weren’t. She was there. I went cycling while she left you both to do whatever you wanted. Mom never forgave herself. That aunty wasn’t a nanny.She was barely reliable. But they didn’t think they’d be gone long. Like an hour maybe.”

He looks away. “Mom used to cry every night. Hitting herself. Screaming. But never in front of you. Because they thought you’d been spared.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Spared? No. Just...excluded. I thought you all held it against me. Because I was the reason she died.”

“We didn’t know you remembered!” he cries out. “We thought... we were protecting you.”

I stare at my brother—older, wiser, alwaysstronger—and all I see is a man who loved his little sister and was failed by everyone else, including me.

“I’ve blamed myself for decades,” I whisper. “Dr. Reza says that I have thishero syndromebecause I failed. Many times. With Greesha too.”

“Viko.” His voice breaks as he pulls me into a hug. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

His arms are tight around me, and for the first time, I don’t fight it. I sink into him like we’re kids again, hiding under the blanket with a half-working flashlight during monsoons.

I want to say it’s okay. That it’sfine.

But it’s not.

And maybe that’s the saddest part of all—there’s no one left to blame.

Just grief that’s finally catching up.

SIXTEEN

Aadya

“It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

Vir’s voice cuts through the quiet, just as Advik disappears through the door.

I don’t answer immediately. My body’s still buzzing from when Vir casually droppedJaaninto the conversation like it meant nothing. Or was supposed to meansomething.

I slowly turn toward him. His hand is still loosely wrapped around my waist. My instinct is to step back—and this time, I listen to it.

“What do you mean?”

He frowns. That controlled edge creeping into his voice. “It’s been a month since you sawhimagain. And it’s been a month since we’ve done anything beyond kissing.”

My heart stutters.

“It’s because of him, right?”

Of course it is. But not for the reasons he thinks.