Chapter 8: The Contract of the Broken
The silence in the garden was deafening. My hands were still trapped in Aman's, but my gaze was anchored to Advik.
Advik stood there, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his bruised knuckles. He looked exhausted. For the first time, the "Architect" looked like he was crumbling under the weight of the very walls he had built. He hadn't slept; he had spent the night killing for me, and now he was watching me drift toward the exit.
"Ananya, let's go. Now," Aman urged, pulling at my arm. "The car is at the gate. Don't look at him."
I looked at Aman—my sweet, untainted Aman. He represented a life of safety, of normal mornings and quiet nights. But then I looked back at Advik. I saw the faint red stain on his cuff from the club. I saw the way his jaw tightened, not with anger, but with a raw, silent plea he was too proud to speak.
If I left, Advik would have nothing left but the war. And Aman? Aman wouldn't survive a week with the Singhals hunting us. Advik's name was the only thing keeping the monsters at bay.
"I can't," I whispered, my heart fracturing in two.
Aman froze. "What?"
"I can't leave, Aman." I slowly pulled my hands out of his. The loss of his warmth felt like a goodbye to my soul. "If I go, they'll kill you. They'll find my brother and use him to get to me. I'm... I'm part of this world now."
"Ananya, no! You're choosing a murderer over us?" Aman's voice cracked with betrayal.
"I'm choosing to keep you alive!" I screamed, the tears finally breaking.
Advik took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn't gloat. He didn't smirk. He looked at me with a profound, dark sadness that made my chest ache. He knew I wasn't staying because I loved him more—he knew I was staying because the world was too cruel for the love I had for Aman.
"Leave, Aman," I said, my voice hollow. "Before he changes his mind about letting you walk out of here."
Aman looked at me, then at Advik, the realization hitting him that he had lost. He backed away, his eyes filled with a lingering, desperate love that I knew would haunt my dreams. He turned and ran toward the gates, leaving a trail of broken promises behind him.
I stood in the center of the garden, watching Aman's retreating figure until the iron gates of the estate swung shut with a final, echoing clang. My heart felt like it had been physically ripped from my chest. I had saved his life, but I had murdered our future.
"He's safe now, Ananya," Advik's voice came from behind me, uncharacteristically soft.
I turned, my eyes blurred with tears. "He's safe, but I'm dead inside. Are you happy now? You have your trophy. You have your debt-settler."
Advik didn't answer. He just looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher—a mixture of guilt and a longing so deep it looked like pain. He turned and walked back into the house, leaving me alone with the scent of crushed roses.
The Midnight Deal
Late that night, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the moonlight hitting the floor. The door clicked open. Advik walked in, but he didn't have his usual predatory swagger. He looked... defeated.
He stopped at the foot of the bed, keeping his distance. "I saw the way you looked at him today," he began, his voice raspy. "I saw the way you held his hand like it was the only thing keeping you on this earth."
"Why does it matter to you?" I spat.
"It matters because I'm tired of being the villain in your story," Advik said, looking at the floor. He took a deep breath. "I've made a decision. I will find Ishaan. I will bring him home safely. And the day he is back... the clock starts."
I looked up, frowning. "What clock?"
"One year," Advik said, finally meeting my eyes. "Stay with me for one year. Play the part of my wife so my enemies don't see a weakness. After three hundred and sixty-five days, I will sign the divorce papers. I will give you enough money to start a new life anywhere in the world. And then..." He paused, his jaw tightening. "Then you can go back to him. You can marry Aman. I'll even make sure he's protected for the rest of his life."
My heart leaped. A light at the end of the tunnel. "You... you would let me go? You'd let me marry him?"
"I want you to be happy, Ananya," he whispered, so low I almost missed it. "Even if that happiness doesn't include me."
"Thank you, Advik. Thank you!" I felt a surge of genuine joy. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying across the screen. I had to tell Aman. I had to tell him to wait for me.
Advik watched me for a second, seeing the radiant smile on my face—a smile he had never been able to provoke. "I'll... I'll leave you to your call," he said hoarsely.
The Sound of a King Breaking
As soon as Advik stepped into the en-suite washroom and locked the door, I dialed Aman's number.
"Aman! It's me! Don't lose hope... he promised! One year, Aman. Just one year and we can be together forever. He's going to let me go!" I was laughing and crying at the same time, pouring my heart out to the man I loved, telling him how I couldn't wait to be his wife.
On the other side of the heavy mahogany door, Advik slumped against the cold marble of the sink.
He turned on the gold faucets to full blast, hoping the sound of rushing water would drown out the sound of my joyful voice. He stared at his reflection—the man who had everything, the King of Mumbai—and realized he was a beggar.
His chest heaved. A choked, jagged sob escaped his throat, followed by another. He doubled over, his forehead resting against the cold porcelain, his hands gripping the edges of the sink so hard the stone began to hairline crack.
He had just handed the woman he loved back to another man. He had traded his own soul for her smile, even knowing that smile was for someone else.
While I was on the bed, whispering "I love you" into the phone to Aman, the most dangerous man in the city was breaking into pieces on his bathroom floor, weeping in total, agonizing silence.