Page 48 of Glass Jawed
Probably last Sunday. Yeah. It was last Sunday when I had last taken this damn bracelet off my wrist—unless I was showering, of course.
And even then, it was only because I wanted to take a picture of it with Cooper’s shrine and send it to my mom.
Before that, I couldn’t even recall the last time it left my wrist. Two straight months of wearing it, like a second skin. It wasn’t just Cooper anymore—his name, his memory—it was Aarohi too.
Somewhere along the way, my brain stopped trying to separate the two. So I didn’t fight it. The bracelet had become both.
And fuck if it didn’t mess with me sometimes—especially when she noticed it and gave me one of her adorable smiles.
Sometimes, the bracelet would be buried under my shirt’s cuffs. And there was something profoundly intimate about the way she’d tug gently at my cuffs, fingers searching, eyes lighting up when she saw it still on my wrist. Like she needed proof I hadn’t taken it off. Like it meant something.
Of course it did.
A few weeks ago, I had one of the most important meetings of the quarter. A sit-down with shareholders about our D2C acquisition performance, which—spoiler alert—had taken a hit.I’d been dreading it. Liam and I were grinding through the numbers at his place, our VP of Product dialed in on Zoom. We were all running on caffeine and stress fumes when I ran a hand down my face... and metal charm brushed against my wrist.
Cool. Grounding.
Aarohi’s face flashed through my mind—smiling, nodding, just existing.
This woman had a knack for business too, which was the ironic cherry on top. She’d casually shared some insights about acquisition strategy from one of her previous jobs, and I’d stored them without even realizing. Suddenly I was quoting her suggestions to our board.
When I told her later how well it went and that the team loved her idea, she’d beamed. I offered to put her on a short-term consulting contract and she just laughed, waved it off, and said, “You’re the CEO. You’d have arrived at the same solution eventually.”
And maybe it should’ve been a throwaway line. Maybe I should’ve laughed and let it go.
But I didn’t. I just kissed the shit out of her.
Because every day, it’s been getting harder to remember what the plan was.
Revenge? Right.
I’m a moron. I’m lying to myself if I think I don’t absolutelyadorethis woman.
Which is why when I met her friend, Kashvi, today—making slight jabs at me and Liam both—I was surprised but not shocked. I have no doubts that Kashvi knows about how Rohi and I actually met.
She was probably skeptical about me. And I was okay with that.
I’m just about to step out onto Liam’s balcony when I hear his voice echo sharply from one of the rooms.
The party hasn’t technically started yet. People will start arriving within the hour—Rohi and Kashvi included. But something in Liam’s tone stops me cold.
“This is fucking stalking!” he snaps.
A pause. Then Karina’s voice, defensive and agitated: “It’snot. He’s just visiting Toronto. Why is it so wrong that I told him about the party?”
What the hell?
I’ve never heard them talk like this. Karina’s always been the laid-back one in the group, Isaac’s girlfriend—now fiancée—calm to a fault. Never the one to raise her voice. And Liam? He might get annoyed, but rarely like this.
“You need to tell him not to show up,” Liam says. “Now.”
“Fine! God! What iswithyou?” she fires back. “I didn’tinvitehim. I just mentioned it. Jesus.”
“You really think he won’t take that as an invite? I’ve been fuckingblockinghis attempts to get to Lucian for days. He’s crossing lines.”
A cold pit drops in my stomach.
Tim.
