Page 90 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

He heaved a sigh. “It’s not working out, Sona.”

“What, darling? Trouble at work?”

“No.” A pause. “This,” he emphasized. “Us. It’s no longer working for me.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said and collapsed on the bed. “Is that why you’ve been ditching my calls? Nice try, Mr. Seth, but you can’t get rid of me that easily either.”

I waited for a chuckle, a titter, a laugh that did not come. “Mihir?”

“We are over, Sona. I’m sorry.”

That sent a thunderbolt up my body. I sat up. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” He hung up.

What the what just happened?

I called him back. He didn’t answer, but I kept calling until he did. “What the heck, Mihir? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was hoarse. He didn’t sound like himself, and that terrified me as much as his words.

“I don’t need your apologies. I need an explanation,” I barked into my phone.

“I don’t have one. I can’t do this anymore.”

“You pursued me and persuaded me to trust you. You proposed marriage not three weeks ago. What changed?”

“Nothing’s changed, Sona. It’s nothing to do with you. I am who I was. I-I tried. You’re smart, savvy, and sexy as hell…”

“You promised me! You promised me you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t walk out on me. You asked me to marry you!”

“But that’s the…problem,” his voice faded. Then he cleared his throat and continued, “I’m not the marrying type.”

“That’s your excuse? Are you kidding me right now? I’m calling your mom. I need to know what happened.”

“You will not call her,” he said with a determined snarl. “This is between you and me, Sona. Keep my parents out of it.”

Adrenaline coursed through my body. I felt like I was talking to a stranger.

“Mihir, please…”

I hadn’t pleaded when Ajay broke it off. I had fought back teeth and claws. This was different. It felt different—in my heart and my gut.

So I pleaded, but he roared in my ear. “Don’t ever call them. I mean it,” he said and hung up.

And that was it.

I felt like I’d stopped breathing. Despite my devastating past, I had allowed myself to be vulnerable with him, because he had asked me to put my faith in him. I’d trusted him with my heart, my life, my dreams. He had just squashed them all and walked away, dusting off his hands callously. It’s nothing to do with you, he said. But it had everything to do with me.

I did the only thing I could think of. I called Tara. She answered instantly.

“Hey! How goes it, Professor? Eagerly awaiting the Houston offer letter?” She chuckled, and though I hadn’t intended to cry, her words pushed me to tears almost instantly. I wept softly at first, and then I gave up all self-respect and bawled like a child.

“Sona! Kaay zhala?” she asked in Marathi, her voice urgent and scared. “Please tell me. I’m about to panic.”

“Don’t.” I hiccupped.

She waited while I tried to get my sobs under control.

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