Page 43 of The Pursuit
TRISHA
The next evening, we were getting ready to attend the event—a party hosted by the NEP party. Since both the Shergills and the Walias were invited, it was inevitable that Krish and I would be there too.
I watched Krish conversing animatedly with Ayaan in the living room. They were discussing the security arrangements for both families, especially now that they knew who our enemy was—Raghav and Ayaan’s real father, the Bat gang leader, Tej Khurana. It was clear that we needed to be more cautious than ever before.
Yesterday, when Krish followed me to the café where I’d been to meet Yug, it had struck a chord deep within me, igniting a flicker of hope that perhaps his feelings for me had never truly faded. But then, his parting question had doused that hope, leaving me uncertain again.
He was right to ask me what I would do if he admitted he still loved me. I honestly didn’t know. Part of me longed to throw myself into his arms, to finally give in to the consuming desire that had always burned between us. But another part—the logical part—knew that opening myself up to that kind of vulnerability again could mess everything up for him. I was ready to lose anything but not what Krish had built all these years with his hard work.
That is why compartmentalising my feelings for Krish and focusing solely on my duties was a must. But seeinghim, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, it had all come rushing back, threatening to
overwhelm me.
Even now I couldn’t help but admire him. His sharp focus on the subject matter, his passion for work, and his selfless friendship with Ayaan Shergill—it was all so captivating. Today, Krish was dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, looking more attractive than ever. And to top it off, he had just gotten a fresh haircut, adding to his charm and appeal. His lively movements, the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, ignited a physical longing within me—a desire to reach out and touch him. I wanted to trace the strong lines of his jaw, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips, to press my lips against the curve of his neck, and to trace the firm lines of his biceps with my tongue. Yet, I pushed these desires aside, just as I had been doing for the past two years.
Krish may not have deserved my love, but he certainly deserved an apology from me, at the very least. I owed him an apology for causing him pain in the past and for being the source of his continued anguish even today. It was clear that Krish had not moved on from me. He was tirelessly building walls between us because I was not ready to acknowledge my feelings for him. Offering an apology could, at the very least, provide him with some solace, help him find closure, and allow him to move forward. Most importantly, it would offer me some comfort, knowing that I could give him something, even if it wasn’t my heart.
As I walked past them, lost in my thoughts, and keeping my gaze fixed on Krish, I suddenly collided with someone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I realised it was Meher.
Meher looked at me curiously, her eyes filled with understanding as she glanced between me and Krish, who was still oblivious of my admiration.
“Are you okay, Trisha? You seem a bit distracted,” she remarked.
I quickly composed myself, masking my inner turmoil with a forced smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Just lost in some thoughts,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t probe further.
Thankfully, Meher didn’t press the matter and excused herself to get ready for the event. Glancing back at Krish, I quickly pulled out my phone and typed out a message, needing to reach out to him in some way, even if I couldn’t find the courage to do it in person. Taking a deep breath, I hit send and hurried off to my room to get ready for tonight’s event.
KRISH
As Ayaan and I finalised the last details of our security plans for tonight’s event, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Ignoring the distraction, I continued speaking, but curiosity gnawed at me. And I couldn’t resist any longer and checked the notification.
Glancing at the screen, I saw a message from Trisha: “I’m sorry.”
My heart skipped a beat. Why was Trisha apologising? I quickly scanned the room to see if she was around, ensuring Ayaan hadn’t noticed my distraction, before returning the phone to the table.
Questions flooded my mind. Was Trisha here? Yesterday, when I followed her and even admitted to feeling jealous upon seeing her with another man (Yug), I realised that I had made a huge mistake by revealing to Trisha that my feelings for her still lingered. But what prompted her sudden apology now? In fact, I should be apologising for still interfering in her personal life. Shaking off my thoughts, I refocused on the conversation with Ayaan. I would deal with Trisha’s apology later. Right now, we had a job to do.
**************
As I approached the car late evening, ready to leave for the event, my gaze immediately locked onto Trisha, who was already seated in the front passenger seat, looking absolutely stunning in a tight black button-down shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She had paired it with a pair ofequally form-fitting black jeans, a gun holster strapped snugly around her waist.
Even after all this time, Trisha had the power to make my pulse race and my body harden with wanton desire. That woman could dress up a gunny sack and still look like a goddess.
I had intended to talk to her about the apologetic text message she had sent me the today, but as I approached the car, Meher had already climbed into the backseat. With Ayaan sure to occupy the spot next to his wife, the only place left for me was the driver’s seat.
Not that I was complaining. Any opportunity to be near Trisha, even if it meant maintaining a professional distance, was better than nothing.
Just as I was about to slide into the driver’s seat, Ayaan called out to me.
“Krish, you’re coming with Dad and Bhaskar uncle in their car, right?”
I quickly formulated an excuse.
“One guard is needed in that car, so Alex will be escorting them. I’ll be driving this one.”
Ayaan shrugged, but I caught a subtle glimmer of suspicion in his eyes as I settled behind the wheel. I couldn’t blame him—my sudden insistence on driving this particular car was hardly inconspicuous. I gestured for Alex to drive with the elders, started the engine, and pulled out.
