Page 78 of Right Where I Belong
The lie burned her lips, but she clung to it anyway. For him. For Ahaan. She held his gaze, not letting him see how she was breaking inside. In another lifetime, she would’ve given him all of herself, but in this life, she couldn’t outrun her past, especially if she stayed with him, and she would never risk him. She loved him too much to do that.
She stared at him for a second, drinking him in, knowing that her next words would cut deep. They’d sever everything between them, and the pain would be hers to bear as much as his. But he needed to be free of her. He deserved better.
“This… us… is over,” she said at last. “I don’t want you, I don’t love you, and I don’t want this, us. And you’re not the kind of man to force a woman when she says no, are you?”
The silence that followed was heavier than anything she’d ever known. Hurt flared in his eyes, raw and poignant. Then his jaw flexed, and his gaze shuttered. For a moment, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he stepped back. Without another word, Aditya turned and walked out of her home. The door closed softly behind him, but it might as well have been a slam.
The air around her felt suddenly colder, the light dimmer. She sank into her sofa as the weight of what she had done crashed over her. She had just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had hurt him in the cruelest way possible because it was the only way she knew to protect him.
Her vision blurred, hot tears spilling over, unstoppable. She let them fall. God, her chest felt like it had been smashed into a hundred pieces. She deserved the pain for the way she had hurt him. But he would heal. At least this way, he’d move forward in life. That’s what she wanted for him.
This was right even if it felt so wrong.
27
The city blurred past as Aditya drove by. Even now, a week later, the ache in his chest stubbornly refused to dull. He’d just returned from a work trip to Dubai and was on his way to Keya’s son’s second birthday. Maybe being surrounded by friends and laughter would help him remember there was still life outside of her. Maybe.
He sighed. She was everywhere. Her absence hurt like the devil, and he missed her so Goddamn much. He rubbed a weary hand down his face. After his altercation with Sabrina, he’d taken the first flight out to Dubai. His business demanded he work from there a few days each month, and he’d thrown himself into it, hoping that the long hours and endless meetings would dull the ache clawing at him. But no matter how many contracts he signed, no matter how many skyscraper boardrooms he sat in, the emptiness remained. Distance hadn’t healed his aching heart.
Thus, he was exhausted, working longer and sleeping less than usual. Fuck. He exhaled. There was no point to these thoughts. Sabrina had made her intentions clear. She didn’t want him. And he had to learn to get on without her.
Still, his heart wasn’t getting that message, because he kept replaying her laugh, the tiny frown on her head when she was agitated, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, and those whole-hearted smiles he’d thought were reserved only for him. He hated that he still remembered the way she tasted, the way she melted into him when he held her, and the way her breath caught when he touched her.
And it wasn’t just her absence that gnawed at him—it was Ahaan’s too. The boy’s curious questions, his wide-eyed excitement when he talked about cricket, even the stubborn way he wrinkled his nose at math homework and his determination to get better at it—he missed it all.
God, he’d never teach that boy to swim. He’d never get to watch him grow up. His heart clenched. Ahaan wasn’t his, then why did he feel like he was meant to be his?
He even missed Maya. He missed her happy yips and the way she laid her head on his lap. He missed them all so much. Stop it, he told himself. None of it was meant to be. Not when Sabrina had chosen to walk away.
His jaw clenched, and the familiar burn of resentment curled in his chest. She hadn’t even given him a chance.
He was convinced that there was something in her past that was holding her back, and it sucked that she gave that more importance than being with him, than trusting him. She’d chosen to shut the door on their relationship without an explanation, as if what they’d shared had meant nothing to her. As ifhehad meant nothing to her. He thumped a fist against his aching chest. He was a fool. Perhaps it was exactly as she’d said… that she didn’t love him. God, that knowledge hurt so bad.
He was in love with her, and she didn’t love him back. This fucking sucked so bad. The one and only time he’d fallen in love with a woman, she didn’t want him enough to take a chance on him. His chest twisted in pain.
Enough. He needed to get his head out of this spiral. He turned the car into the Sehgals’ driveway, telling himself he was here for Keya and Kabier’s little boy. Kush was turning two, and Aditya wasn’t about to ruin that. Parking his car, he entered the lawns of Keya’s home. He stopped at the threshold, taking everything in. The lawns had been transformed into a cheerful carnival of color. Strings of pastel balloons arched over the garden, swaying gently in the warm evening breeze. Round tables draped in bright linens were scattered across the lawn, each crowned with a small vase of tiny balloons and balls. A bouncy castle sat in one corner, the delighted shrieks of children tumbling on it filling the air.
The scent of freshly popped popcorn mingled with the sweetness of cotton candy from a small stall near the gazebo, while waiters in crisp white shirts weaved through the crowd with trays of bite-sized appetizers. Parents chatted in clusters, while little Kush toddled about holding his mom’s hand, giggling as guests crouched down to greet him. Aditya smiled, taking it all in.
Spotting him, Keya handed her son to Kabier and rushed to him, her arms open, wrapping him in a warm hug. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Her smile was all sunshine.
“Aditya, you’re here!” she grinned. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I would never miss any of your kids’ birthday parties,” he said.
Kabier neared him, Kush clinging to his legs. Kabier gave him a friendly hug.
Kabier Sehgal was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened. Quiet, headstrong, and steady as a rock, he was the anchor that kept Keya grounded, and the reason her smile was always so bright.
Tiny hands pressed against Aditya’s legs. Leaning down, Aditya scooped Kush in his arms. “Yes, I should have met you first. Happy birthday, my dear Kush. You’re so big now.”
The little boy’s chubby face broke into a sunshine smile, his tiny fingers curling into Aditya’s shirt.
“Where is your sister?” Aditya asked him.
The little boy pointed at the side, and Aditya saw Keya’s four-year-old daughter, Kiana, running with some kids, her hair blowing in the breeze, a candy floss in her hand.
“She needs to stop eating that cotton candy. She’s had two already,” Keya said. She looked at Aditya. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
