Page 45 of Born in Sin

“You’re not being fair, Vir,” she said, her voice trembling. “Don’t take out your sadness about your mother on me.”

“I’m not sad!” The shout resounded down the corridor making kids and teachers turn in their direction.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Leave me alone,” he told her again.

Celina ignored the open stares they were getting and stepped forward, gripping his shirt in a tight fist.

“No. I. Won’t.”

Chapter Seventeen

VIRAT

Virat stared at the screen of his laptop, furiously making notations from the videos and images his team had sent him of the hospital fundraiser. If his eye tended to wander towards a flash of yellow, he only allowed himself a few seconds to wallow before wrenching his attention back to his task.

The doorbell chimed and his entire body stilled. The people he was interested in seeing would not use his doorbell. He grabbed the gun on the table beside him, uncocked the safety on it and made his way to the door. What he saw through the peephole made him put the safety on the gun back on even as his brain screamed danger.

Virat swung the door open, allowing Cara to slip past him. He met her guard’s eyes and acknowledged the man’s silent greeting before shutting the door, shutting them in, alone in the quiet of his apartment.

They stared at each other, wordless moments that seemed to scream in the silence. She wore black leggings and a black hoodie, the top pulled over her head, so it concealed almost allof her features. He didn’t need to see her to know her. He always had.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said, pushing the hood back to reveal her tired face, scrubbed free of makeup. “I knew you wouldn’t like it but-“

“280689.” Virat moved to leave his gun on the dining table he’d been working at.

Cara stood motionless, wordless, her gaze darkening as she watched him.

“The door code,” he told her. “You don’t have to ring the bell.” The words ‘not to my home’ remained unsaid but echoed in the quiet space, nonetheless.

“My birthday,” she said, her hand going to her throat, clasping it as it worked through the emotion clogging it.

“Yes.” The simple acknowledgement had her blinking back tears.

“After all this time?”

Virat laughed softly, a mirthless sound. “Even after forever, Celi. Also,” he looked at her, the storms in his eyes churning. “There will never be a time when I don’t like you coming to me.”

Cara closed her eyes for a long moment, visibly working to get herself under control. When she didn’t say anything for a long moment, he forced himself to ask.

“Why are you here?”

“Your father was at the fundraiser,” she said softly. “I saw him.”

“I know.” Virat gestured to the living room so they could sit and talk. “He was on the guestlist. As was Amay’s father, Rakesh Aatre.”

Cara took a seat across from him, tucking her feet under her and making herself comfortable on the couch.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked formally, even as he struggled to keep from joining her on that couch and pulling her to him.

Cara shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. Virat –“ She stopped, hesitating, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

“What is it?” he asked, even as the ‘Virat’ sliced into him, leaving trails of blood. The days of being her Vir seemed to be over, a fact he’d have to accept.

“He doesn’t look well,” she said softly. “He looks like he is…”

“Dying?” Virat supplied. Cara flinched. “He is. He’s in the final stages of lung cancer. I believe the doctors have given him less than three months to live.”

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