Page 89 of Born in Sin

“But after that…”

“Yeah. After that, I’ll stay away till we graduate.”

Ishaan scoffed. “Tell yourself another lie, brother, one we might all have a shot at believing.”

“I need to see her,” Virat repeated, holding Amay’s gaze. “Tonight.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

VIRAT

The room he let himself into was cloaked in shadow, hushed and still, the scent of the city barely filtering through the cracked window. The only illumination came from the glowing mosaic of the Mumbai skyline beyond the glass, a glittering sprawl of light and motion that stretched endlessly into the distance. The Sea Link carved through the dark waters like a trail of liquid gold, shimmering beneath the scattered stars and the moonlight diffused by city haze and pollution.

Inside the room, time seemed to slow.

She sat by the window in a straight-backed chair, her silhouette framed in silver and shadow. Her profile was turned slightly toward the city, her expression unreadable, her posture still, frighteningly still. Back straight. Hands resting lightly on her lap. Feet planted firmly on the floor, as though bracing herself against something only she could feel. She looked like a woman on the edge of decision, caught between deafening silence and a storm.

Virat closed the door behind him, the softclickslicing through the quiet like a pin dropped in a cathedral. The air in the room shifted with his presence, dense with unsaid words and the gravity of what they were both carrying.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not yet.

He stood frozen just inside the doorway, eyes on her,onlyon her. His gaze swept over her like a man starved, taking in the fall of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the rise and fall of her breath. A fierce mix of relief and rage battled in his chest. His pulse still thudded in his ears from the chaos of the last few hours, from the frantic rush to get here after learning she needed him.

Adrenaline still surged through his veins, raw and electric, but it was nothing compared to the pounding of his heart as he stared at her.

She hadn’t turned. Hadn’t looked at him. Not yet.

But she knew he was there. He could feel it. He could see it in the way her spine stiffened ever so slightly, in the breath she held for half a second too long. She always sensed him before anyone else did.

He took a single step forward.

Toward her.

The need to touch her was primal, bone-deep. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, aching to reach for her.

“What gave you the right to do what you did?”

The soft question stopped him in his tracks.

“What did I do?”

She turned to look at him, those large, beautiful eyes lasering into him.

“Don’t,” she said, simply. “Don’t do that. Don’t deflect.”

His heart tightened in his chest as he met her gaze, her eyes stormy pools of banked emotion.

“Your mother told you.” Quiet resignation filled his voice.

She put her hand up to stop him. “I asked you a question. Answer me please.”

Virat took a deep breath, trying to put decades of suppressed emotion into words, rational words.

“What gave you the right to sacrifice your life, your future, your health, all of it for me?”

“My love for you,” he said, his legendary control snapping. “My love for you gave me the right.”

“And what about my love for you?” She tilted her head as she watched him, her eyes taking on a hard, cynical glint. “Was that irrelevant to this grand plan of yours? Did your love for me make it easy for you take my choices away from me, to make decisions on my behalf, to break my heart, to break me for the greater good?”

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