Page 167 of Glass Jawed
I plop onto the edge of the bed, biting my lip to stop grinning. He’s still fumbling with his T-shirt when the words just slip out of me, unfiltered and stupid:
“So... did you two shower together?”
He freezes. “What—no!What the fu—no!Why—NO!”
His voice keeps climbing octaves with eachno.
I lose it again. Cackling like an idiot.
It takes him a few beats, but he finally catches on and starts laughing too. It’s that breathless kind, the one that shakes your chest. Real. Unfiltered.
And just like that—mine stops.
Because I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh like this.
Not a chuckle. Not a polite smile. But an actual laugh.
Has he laughed in months?
I glance up at him. He’s already staring. His expression softens as he takes me in—eyes dragging across my face like he’s trying to memorize something before it disappears.
And suddenly, I feel it too. That shift. That unspoken hum between us. The kind of silence that isn’t heavy—butintimate. Waiting.
“So...” I start, and promptly trail off.
“So,” he echoes softly.
“There’s aSangeetpart two happening downstairs. Dancing. Drinks. You can dance... but no alcohol for you.”
He chuckles. “No alcohol for me, Rohi.”
The way he says my name now. Like it’s something sacred. Like it belongs to him, but only if I let it.
Then he sits beside me on the bed. And just like that, my heart starts pounding so loudly I’m sure it echoes in the room.
“I, uh... talked to Glynn,” I say, my voice light.
“She’s pretty cool,” he nods, but then his expression shifts—serious now, thoughtful. “Are you... okay? That must’ve been hard.”
I swallow hard. He’s being so gentle. So...attuned. He always was—but I’d chalked it all up to manipulation. To charm with an agenda.
Fuck.
“I’m okay,” I say with a small smile. “But it was... weird hearing that you’ve been coordinating some type of group sessions.”
His brows lift. “Oh... yeah. I have. It’s been kind of enlightening to listen. To just... witness other people’s stories. I’d like to hear yours too. Someday. If you’d want to share it.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting,Yes. Of course.
But I say nothing.
“It’s okay if you never want to,” he adds, quickly. “I just want you to know that I’m here. To listen.”
“And?” I ask before I can stop myself. “What else are you here for?”
His eyes flit between mine, like he’s searching for the deeper meaning buried under the question. Because he knows. Knows I don’t mean the surface-level ’why are you here at the wedding?’
“You,” he says, his voice firm but tender. “I’m here foryou, Rohi.”
