Page 191 of Glass Jawed
She groans in that soft, grumpy way of hers and stands up anyway.
A few minutes later, we’re all gathered near the cars.
A sleek black BMW, beautifully decorated with white and red flowers, sits ready with the engine running and doors open. This is it—the car Vikram and Ishika will leave in.
Kash and Liam are nearby. Everyone is crying—especially Ishika’s parents.
Rohi’s right there with them, standing with the family. Watching her hold Ishika, both of them sobbing into each other’s shoulders, is surreal. There’s so much love here.
Then, Ishika says something to Rohi that makes her laugh through her tears.
They both turn to look at me.
Uh-oh.I’m the topic, clearly.
And then—unexpectedly—Ishika walks over and pulls me into a hug.
My arms freeze for half a second before I wrap one gently around her.
“You take care of her,” she murmurs. “And don’t hurt her again.”
I nod, sincere. “I won’t. I promise, Ishika.”
She lets out a watery laugh, pats my chest twice like a warning and a blessing, and returns to her new husband.
Another few minutes later, Ishika and Vikram drive off into the night, their car trailing petals and tears and laughter. The crowd slowly begins to scatter—people shuffling back toward the farmhouse.
And then she’s there again. Rohi slides next to me, her side brushing mine, like it’s muscle memory now.
“I’m flying to Vancouver in three days,” she murmurs. Her voice is tinged with that familiar kind of sadness—quiet, heavy. The kind that comes from knowing what comes next, even when you don’t want it to.
I know exactly what she’s thinking.
Toronto and Vancouver.
She’s thinking of the miles that will stretch between us. The time zones. The uncertainty. The ache.
But there’s something she doesn’t know yet.
So I lean in a little, my voice soft but steady. “Didn’t you hear?” I say casually. “Kepler Health’s C-suite is moving to Vancouver.”
She turns to me, confused. I keep going.
“The team’s mostly remote, so... I’ll be relocating. Along with the rest of the C-suite.”
I watch the realization land in her eyes like a sunrise.
“You—what?” she breathes.
“I’m moving to Vancouver,” I repeat, smiling now.
Her lips part. No words. Just shock, then disbelief, then a kind of wonder that steals the air from between us.
And then—God, her smile. The kind that says maybe—just maybe—love gets to win this time.
“You...” she whispers but trails off.
Then she shoves my shoulder, laughing through the tears. “You absoluteidiot.”
