Page 6 of The Promise of a Traitor

Except in both cases, he was the random idiot.

He tapped his phone against the table, his mind whirring a million miles a minute. Hurt and betrayal swam through him, twining with the red fire of his rage. What the fuck was she playing at? His parents were good, decent people. Were Aastha and her parents trying to take advantage of them?

Aashika, he reminded himself. Aastha didn’t exist.

He scrolled through the profile his mother had sent him. She played tennis? Since when? The girl he’d known had grumbled to even go for a morning jog, preferring to spend that time elbow deep in dough instead.

A derisive snort escaped him as he saw the line about her being submissive, calm, and home and family oriented.

Aastha was a firecracker and one who’d been razor focused on her dream of being a Michelin grade pastry chef.

Aashika apparently enjoyed keeping a good home and seeing to her family’s comfort.

Who the hell wrote this tripe? And how did his mother think this was a good idea? Maya Malhotra did not believe in docile, submissive women who were groomed on patriarchal bullshit. She was more likely to set fire to the patriarchy and dance in the ashes.

Nothing added up in this whole scenario. He should tell his mother that this was never going to happen and move on. And yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, his thumb caressed the image of her smiling face which dominated his phone screen.

The love he’d felt for this woman…his breath shuddered in his chest as memories slammed through him. Her hands in his hair, the sound of her bright laughter in his ears, her soft curves filling his arms…

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts swarming through his fevered brain.

I love you, Aastha Agarwal. Promise you’ll never leave me.

The words echoed through his mind, each syllable carving deeper into wounds that had never truly healed. He dragged in an uneven breath, fighting to keep his composure intact. Why had fate brought her back into his life now? What cruel purpose did it serve to tear open scars that had only just begun to close?

His phone rang a second later. He glanced at it, expecting to see his mother’s picture flashing on his screen but it was one of his cousins.

“Vik,” he said tersely, answering on the second ring.

“Hey. Are we still on for drinks and dinner tonight?”

Advik shut his eyes, cursing under his breath. He’d forgotten all about the cousin’s reunion that night.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s on. I’m supposed to make the reservation.”

A small beat of silence and then Vikram said, “I assume that means you forgot all about it until now.”

“Fuck!” Advik swore. “I’ll get it done. I’ve just been a bit busy.”

“I heard about the set-up. Was that now? Did I interrupt?” Curiosity filtered through Vikram’s voice.

“No,” Advik said abruptly, his voice hard and cold. “She’s gone.”

“It went that well, did it?” Vikram asked, wryly.

“It was a complete shitshow.”

Vikram laughed. “So, you’re not marrying her then?”

“I wouldn’t marry her if she was the last woman alive in a zombie infested apocalypse.”

“Oookay!” Vikram sounded a little confused. “Not that anyone would be getting married in a zombie infested apocalypse, but what the hell did she do to piss you off in one meeting?”

What had she done? She planned to marry another poor, unsuspecting man after breaking Adi’s heart, grinding it into the dust, and walking away without a backward glance.

He felt the rage sparking again, simmering beneath his skin. “She is everything I despise in a woman,” he replied, his voice ice cold, a direct contrast to the burning heat of his fury.

“Dude!” Vikram exclaimed, startled. “That’s a bit strong for someone you’ve just met. She can’t have been that bad.”