Page 89 of Glass Jawed
“Her mouth—fuck—her m-mouth touched my neck and chest. She... she also tried to get me hard with her hand. It didn’t work.” I swallow, bile rising. “Apart from the kiss—where my hand touched the back of her neck—I didn’t touch her.”
She exhales, a ragged breath that shreds what little is left of my self-worth. My eyes sting with unshed regret, but I keep staring at my hands. Because if I look at her right now, I’ll break.
She lets the silence hover before continuing. “What was the plan when you approached me the day of your first lecture?”
Fuck. I already know this will be the hardest part.
“To... to seduce you into falling for me and then—recreate the night I walked in on you and... Tim. To make you feel the hurt I felt. Because I stupidly convinced myself that you were unaffected.”
She laughs. Bitter and hollow.
“Well, you succeeded on all accounts.”
My head jerks up at that. Did she just—?
Is she saying she fell for me?
But the idea brings no relief. No elation. Just more shame. Because the look in her eyes isn’t love. It’sdisgust.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, catching the flicker of disbelief on my face. “I did. I fell for you. But that version of you doesn’t exist. So... who did I even fall for, right?”
“Ro—Aarohi,” I fumble. “I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t all a lie. It started that way, yeah—but—”
“Oh, then it becamereal?” she cuts in. “News flash. You still went ahead with your plan. It wasn’trealif it was that fuckingfickle.”
My mouth parts in shock, but nothing comes out. No words. No denial. Not even air.
Everything is just... gone. Erased to dust. Just asIhave been—for her.
“You’re deluding yourself if you think it was real,” she laughs, a sharp, unhinged sound. “When, huh? When did it become real? When you first kissed me? When youfuckedme? When you brought someone else into your bed? Or...”
She pauses, lets out a humorless chuckle. “Or after?”
There’s no stopping the tears. Hers.
And mine.
She watches as one rolls down my cheek—eyes narrowing with something between disgust and amusement.
Like she’s witnessing a malfunction. Like she can’t believe someone like me is even capable of feeling this deeply.
“Save those tears, Mr. Vale. I’ve got a story for you.”
Her voice is calm. Too calm.
I nod slowly, but my body’s already bracing for impact. I don’t know why, but a part of me knows exactly what’s coming.
“Approximately sixteen months ago...” she begins, pacing to the far end of the living room.
And just like that—my stomach drops.
She’s telling me about that night.
“I was at a bar in downtown Toronto. A low-stakes night out with new friends. Harmless. That’s when I met him. He came up to me, flirted like a frat boy, but I was... lonely. Horny. In a new country. Trying to feel something. So I flirted back.”
Her voice stays even, but I hear the friction beneath. Like she’s holding herself together by force of will alone.
“He asked if I wanted to get out of there. I said yes. And he took me home.”
