Page 50 of Born in Sin

Screams erupted in her head at those words, desperate pleading, sobs that tore through her and landed on deaf ears. This man’s deaf ears. Rage flared in Cara’s chest, icily cold in its quest for vengeance, for answers. But before she could say anything and betray herself, Kabir stepped through the doors.

“There you are,” Kabir said jovially. “Listen, we have one shot left to give and then we’re done for today. These guys have invited me out with them for dinner and drinks. Do you want to join us?”

“No thank you,” she said, faking a yawn and giving him her formal smile. “I’d rather get a good night’s sleep.”

“Don’t be boring, Car.” Kabir draped an arm over her shoulders. “I’m sure they’re a fun bunch.”

“Maybe,” she said, shooting a dismissive glance at Majid who was watching the whole exchange. “But I’m not interested. You guys have a good time.”

She forced herself to nod to Majid. “It was nice meeting you,” she said formally.

“I hope we meet again,” he replied just as politely and formally.

Oh, they would meet again, over and over again, Cara thought as she turned with Kabir to enter the set, Majid at their back. And one final time, when she’d have no mask on. After all, he should meet the best friend he’d ever had again, shouldn’t he?

Crestwood

The flame of the candle danced in the evening breeze, a slender flicker of light struggling to stay alive. It cast a golden halo across her face, gilding her cheekbones, catching in the waves of her hair, turning her into something otherworldly—somewhere between a dream and a prayer. She cupped her palm around the candle, sheltering it like it was sacred, her brows pulled together in fierce concentration. As if willing the tiny flame to obey. As if she could force the world to go her way through sheer stubbornness.

He watched from the shadows, hidden but hopelessly exposed. She hadn’t seen him yet—hadn’t looked up. And so he gave himself permission for just a moment. A moment to drink her in, unchecked. The soft flutter of her dress in the wind. The way her mouth twitched in irritation at the candle’s resistance. The determined way she held herself, even when alone.

God, she was beautiful.

But it wasn’t just her face or the firelight painting her in bronze—it was what she was made of. She was laughter in darkplaces. She was warmth in a world that had been cold for far too long. She was kindness where he expected indifference. She was... everything. And loving her was the most terrifying truth he’d ever known.

Because if he lost her—if life took her from him in one of its cruel turns—he feared he would unravel. Not just break.Disappear.

Then her eyes lifted and found him in the corner.

And just like that, the world snapped into colour.

A smile broke over her face like sunrise—radiant, instinctive, real. The kind of smile people spent lifetimes chasing. The kind that made you believe in home. She always smiled like that when she saw him. Always. As if he was a gift, not a burden.

“Happy birthday to you,” she sang, her voice hushed and playful, like a secret passed in the dark. She stepped forward, holding the cupcake aloft like an offering, but her foot caught on a root half-hidden in the grass. She stumbled with a startled gasp, and the flame flickered dangerously.

He was already moving.

Virat lunged forward, catching her wrist just in time, his other hand rising instinctively to cradle the back of her head. His fingers tangled in the soft strands of her hair, grounding them both. The cupcake wobbled but didn’t fall. Neither did she.

Their faces were inches apart, the candle flickering between them like it knew it wasn’t the brightest flame here.

He leaned in, forehead resting against hers, eyes closed.

And he breathed.

Breathed her in like she was the only air worth taking into his lungs. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of her nearness, and for the first time in days he felt the weight ease. His soul, always strung tight with fear and pain, sighed in quiet surrender.

She was here. With him.

And for a heartbeat, that was enough.

“Virat,” she whispered urgently. “Blow out the candle before it melts into the cupcake.”

He laughed, pursing his lips and blowing it out, not letting go of her for the second it took to do even that. He opened his mouth and accepted the bite she fed him and then fed her a little bit.

“I wanted you to have more,” she protested.

“I plan to,” he said, stealing a chocolatey kiss from her and making her giggle while she tried to protect what was left of the cupcake. “I love you, Celi,” he murmured, basking in the sound of her happiness.

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