Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I closed my book and shook my head. “Not yet. Maybe soon.”
She studied me before nodding. “If you need me, you know where I am.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you a mango lassi. How about that?”
“Sure.” I gave her a grateful smile, thankful she wasn’t pushing me to socialise. “That would be lovely.”
Bustling back into the kitchen, she reminded me a little of May, the cook in Victor’s kitchens. What’d happened to her? Was she back home with her loved ones?
A stabbing in my heart.
For a second, I feared it was Henri.
That he’d died wherever he was in the world…hunting.
I clung to the hope that I’d feel him. That I’d know if he was in mortal danger by whatever unexplainable connection we shared.
I just wished it allowed us to speak telepathically across oceans.
It would be so easy if we could.
Come back.
I’m here.
Waiting.
Ugh!
No more.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
I couldn’t keep hanging in limbo.
Not grieving. Not moving on. Not accepting the one person’s death I just couldn’t acknowledge.
Peter.
Henri was still alive.
But Paavak…
I stiffened. What if no one had told his family about him? What if they were still in limbo like me…waiting for him to go home?
Oh God.
Grabbing my phone from the blanket bundled over my legs, I typed Paavak’s name into Google. I didn’t hold out hope that it’d be as easy as finding him on social media. But…his name wasn’t that common, and I added Leeds to the search.
He said he’d moved to Jaipur to be near extended family, but his parents had stayed…
Immediately, a bike repair company popped up.
Run by Arun Chauhan.
Beneath that search was another for a remembering service for his son. A service to say goodbye dated three years ago.
Screenshotting the address, I ripped off the blanket, flew into the house, and shrugged into my rose gold puffer jacket. My grey sweatpants would have to do. My brother’s hoodie that was two sizes too big for me was not visiting attire.
But I couldn’t wait.
I’d waited for far too long.
“I’m going out! I’m taking your car, Mama!”
“Okay, baby! Be safe!”
I didn’t tell them I’d be gone a while.
That the drive between my home and Paavak’s was almost three hours.
I just shot out the door and went to break his parents’ heart. Just like he’d broken mine.
* * * * *
His family home was so similar to mine, I had to bite the insides of my cheeks from sobbing.
A quaint front garden, little cobbled path, pansies in the window boxes, and a red tiled roof. Tudor style white and black cladding with the telltale wavy roof line that showed its age and the fact that the foundations might have sank a little over the years.
Through the left window, a man and woman sat down to dinner. He kissed her on the head as he went to take his chair. She looked up at him with a smile.
Even from here, I knew I’d found the right place.
His mannerisms reminded me so much of his son. His smile as he looked at his wife. The way his eyes crinkled with affection and gratefulness.
My entire body jittered and ached.
The tears I’d bottled up for far, far too long made me sick and horribly sad.
Don’t do this.
They look happy.
They said goodbye three years ago.
I clutched the steering wheel.
I grabbed the keys to wake the engine.
I should go…
What right did I have to hurt them with his death when they already accepted it?
“You’re worried about me because you want to be my friend?” I eyed him warily.
He laughed under his breath. “Well, you did let me perve at you when we first met. You didn’t condemn me for asking for something to get me through the day, so yes…I would like to be friends.”
I folded over the steering wheel, choking on a sob.
The flashback.
The offer of comfort.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t let him die without sharing just how incredible he was.
He deserved to be mourned and not forgotten.
Before I could stop myself, I ripped out the keys, wrenched open the door, and ran up the garden path.
The bing-bong of the doorbell echoed far too loudly.
The seconds that ticked past scratched up my spine until every tear I hadn’t allowed myself to fall clung to my eyelashes.
And when the door finally opened, and I stared into soft brown eyes, so similar to Paavak’s, and studied the face of the man who’d raised my soulmate, I couldn’t hold them back anymore.
I dropped to my knees on their doorstep.
I broke apart right there at his feet.
Every hardship and hurt, every pain and panic unravelled, and I couldn’t stop.
Paavak’s father cooed under his breath and shouted for his wife. With gentle hands, he helped tug me to my feet, then wrapped his arms around my quaking shoulders and guided me into their house.
I felt no fear as the door closed.
I shuddered in the arms of a stranger.