Page 339 of Hateful Games

As soon as I’m outside, her friends skip past me to find her. While Raghu stands to the side with the dogs. They bark excitedly upon seeing me. I cross the distance and ask the old man, “Mind giving me time alone with them too?”

His hard features don’t change as he passes the leash to me.

I lower to my haunches and I’m immediately attacked with eager licks and kisses. Bunny nozzles his face against my arm while Fire and Maggie lean on my knees on two paws. I smile at them, giving equal attention to each dog.

Reluctantly, especially when they croon and tug at my jeans, I stand.

“This isn’t a goodbye, you heathens,” I mumble to them as they settle down a bit at my soft tone, laced with a hint of sadness. “I’ll be back to win your mommy over. Until then, take care of her.”

Raghu returns to hold them back when they chase after me as I settle behind the wheel and start the car. Reversing, I drive away from our house.

Chapter Eighty-eight

Rosalie

(Six months later)

As much as I like the end-of-year festive season, it’s also a pain in the ass.

I’m at the shelter today and we’re short-staffed with most people on holiday. It shouldn’t be a problem but it also kept raining the whole day, leading to a mess all around. The dogs escaped through the open doors to play in the backyard, returning all dirty from the wet mud.

Sami, me, and a few of the others having been working nonstop cleaning and bathing them. But now my hands are tired and my joints ache from scrubbing. There’s still a few of the dogs to go. My plans of going home early and having a relaxing evening with my own pets went to hell.

“How many more are left?” I ask an equally tired Sami, who is checking the time on her wristwatch.

“Four more.”

“Why don’t you go home?” I tell her, aware her husband and six-year-old daughter are waiting for her. “I can give them a bath and then lock up.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice is hesitant.

“Of course.” I smile. “Go be with your family. Wish them a happy Diwali from my side. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Thanks, Rosalie. Happy Diwali to you too.”

We hug and say goodbye. I gaze around at the space. It’s a complete mess and so am I. My hair is twisted in a bun, the short tresses falling from it and tickling my cheeks. My plain white tee is smudged with dirt and covered in dog hair while my black legging is wet and sticking to my body.

“God! I need a bath too,” I mutter.

“Yeah, you do.”

I jump at the deep voice and whirl with a scream lodged in my throat. I rest my palm on my wildly beating heart, especially when it pumps even harder and faster as my gaze clashes with Nova’s.

The man is still my husband on paper.

I can’t even form a rebuttal as I take him in head to toe in a black T-shirt and blue jeans.

The first thing I notice is that he’s grown his hair longer. The messy black locks now curl behind his ears, making him sinfully handsome. Lethal sharp looks that demand attention the moment he enters a room.

Has it been six months since I watched him begrudgingly walk out of my life? I was only able to stay in that house, filled with memories of us in every corner, for two days before I quickly moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the city.

I thought it was going to be hard on me but my babies were also sad in his absence.

Often, I would catch them sitting at the front door and waiting for him in the evenings. Like he’d be returning from the office any minute.

Of course, it led to me second-guessing my decision that first week, wondering if I had made a mistake. Contemplating and fighting to run back to him. I don’t think I went a night without crying myself to sleep for the first month. It wasn’t just the loss of Nova and everything about him, but the years of nightmares and brokenness I had compartmentalized. The lack of protection and love from my parents during my childhood.

The lid on it had splintered and I was feeling everything at once.

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