Chapter 46

The air was thick with the scent of fried food, cheap perfume, and that distinct chaos only a school fair could create. Brightly lit stalls lined the field, each one run by students who were either taking their jobs way too seriously or looking for an excuse to slack off. Music blared from some unseen speaker, an upbeat pop song that had half the students swaying while the other half rolled their eyes.

And beside me, Amit was being insufferable.

“This is our date,” he declared, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

I didn’t bother looking at him. “This is not a date.”

He ignored me. “We’re walking under the fairy lights, the mood is set, there’s a slight chill in the air—you’re shivering.” He pulled me closer. Unnecessary. Completely unnecessary.

I shoved him off. “I’m shivering in disgust. Your cologne is disgusting.”

Amit gasped, placing a hand on his heart like I’d mortally wounded him. “I’ll have you know this scent is called Irresistible Nights and was picked out by my mother.”

“I’ll send her a sympathy card,” I muttered.

Amit grinned and grabbed my hand, dragging me toward a stall decorated with neon pink fairy lights and a large,

The stall was aggressively pink.

It had handmade paper hearts strung across the top, blinking fairy lights wrapped around the edges, and an old, slightly battered laptop sitting on the table, displaying a gaudy “LOVE CALCULATOR – FIND YOUR PERFECT MATCH!” screen.

I dug my heels in. “No. Absolutely not.”

Amit grinned, already dragging me closer. “Yes, a hundred percent yes.”

I dug my heels in. “We are not doing this.”

Amit ignored me, flashing a winning smile at the girl running the stall. “We’d like to test our compatibility.”

We.

She perked up. “You guys want to test your compatibility?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but Amit cut in first.

“Absolutely,” he said, all smooth confidence. “We’re best friends. Just a fun little test, right, Dev?”

I clenched my jaw. “Right.”

The girl smiled, completely oblivious. “Great! Just place your hands on the scanner.”

The so-called scanner was just a cheap plastic pad hooked up to the laptop with questionable wiring. Amit placed his hand down easily, giving me a look that very clearly said play along.

I reluctantly did the same.

The laptop beeped, and the screen flashed between numbers. Amit leaned in, voice lower now, just for me.

“Bet it’s gonna be 100%,” he whispered.

My fingers twitched. “Bet it’s gonna be an error message.”

Amit bit back a laugh. The girl, still typing something into the laptop, didn’t seem to notice.

“Dev,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “It’s okay to admit you’re in love with me.”

I turned my head sharply. Big mistake.

We were too close now. His eyes flickered down to my lips for half a second before snapping back up.

My throat felt dry.

Before I could turn away, the screen blinked, and the final result appeared.

98% – SOULMATES!

Amit howled with laughter.

The girl clapped her hands. “Aww, that’s so cute! You guys must be really close.”

Amit beamed at her. “Oh, we are.”

I stepped on his foot.

He barely flinched. Instead, he turned back to me, dropping his voice again.

“Science is on my side.”

“This is not science,” I deadpanned. “This is a rigged carnival scam made by tenth graders who failed physics.”

The girl at the stall scowled. “Hey, we put a lot of effort into this.”

I sighed, walking away defeated. Amit, on the other hand, was thriving.

“I always knew we were meant to be,” he continued dramatically. “It was written in the stars, Dev.”

“It was written by hormonal high schoolers with too much time on their hands.”

Amit wrapped an arm around me, leaning in way too close. “So,” he whispered, grinning. “Be my boyfriend?”

I swatted his arm. Amit just laughed.

“I hate you.”

“You loooove me.”

***

The fair was still alive in the distance—laughter, music, the occasional crackling of a loudspeaker—but here, at the very edge of campus, it was quiet.

The tree we were under stretched its branches wide, the leaves whispering with the night breeze. The only real light came from the school fair in the distance, glowing in warm, flickering colors, and the sky above us—deep, dark indigo, scattered with stars.

Amit was half-laying against the tree, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, looking completely at home. He had a paper plate balanced on his thigh, and on it—of course—were samosas.

Not cotton candy, not ice cream, not anything remotely exciting. Samosas.

I gave him a look. “You do realize you just spent an entire day at a fair filled with exciting, once-a-year food and still ended up with—this.” I gestured dramatically at his plate.

Amit took a slow, exaggerated bite, not at all ashamed. “If it’s perfect, why change it?”

I shook my head, exasperated. “You have the taste buds of a grandfather.”

Amit smirked, licking the oil from his fingers, his gaze flicking to me with that infuriating gleam in his eyes—the one that always meant trouble. “Really?” He tilted his head, considering. “But you aren’t a grandfather, and I tasted you just fine.”

I choked on absolutely nothing.

My entire body froze for half a second before the heat rushed up my neck, burning all the way to my ears. “You—” My voice cracked. I coughed, horrified. “You—”

Amit raised an eyebrow, delighting in my suffering. “I—?”

God, he’s an idiot.

He’s a moron.

This stupid, stupid boy who knocked on my door five years ago and rewired my entire existence. Who climbed up my balcony like it was his own, shoved his way into my life with that impossible smile, and stole the air from my lungs before I even knew I was holding it.

Fucking idiot Amit.

I sighed and flicked a bead between my fingers, threading it onto the thin cord in my lap.

Amit’s gaze flickered to my hands. “Okay, I gotta ask—what are you even doing with those beads you bought?”

I didn’t answer immediately. The bracelet was almost done.

Amit nudged me with his foot, grinning. “Is this your love confession? Are you making me a friendship bracelet?”

“Give me your wrist,” I said instead.

Amit’s grin faltered. “Wait, what?”

I sighed and grabbed his hand before he could be dramatic about it. His skin was warm under my fingers, and I ignored the way my stomach dipped. Slowly, carefully, I slipped the bracelet over his wrist, adjusting it until the moonstone sat right at the center.

Amit blinked down at it. “What is this?”

I exhaled, still holding his wrist. “You asked me something earlier.”

A pause. Amit froze. My pulse drummed.

Then his voice dropped, softer this time. “Huh?”

I lifted my eyes to his. “Yes.”

His brows knitted. “Yes… what?”

I could feel my face heating. Amit was staring.

“You asked if I wanted to be your boyfriend.” My fingers curled lightly around his wrist. “And I’m saying yes.”

Amit didn’t react at first. He just stared.

And then—his breath hitched. His fingers twitched.

And then, God—that smile.

It broke across his face slow, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have it yet. Like he was scared to believe it.

His voice was barely a whisper. “Wait. That means—”

“Yes, Amit.”

His grip tightened around my wrist. “I’m your—?”

I laughed, heat curling in my stomach. “Yes.”

His brows lifted. “Like. You’re my—?”

I groaned. “That’s usually how it works.”

Amit turned his wrist, staring at the bracelet again, as if seeing it differently now. “So… we’re boyfriends.”

And I should’ve been cool about it. Should’ve smirked or teased him or at least pretended this wasn’t the biggest deal in the goddamn universe.

But all I could think was:

God, he’s mine.

This ridiculous, infuriating boy—with his stupid smile, his loud, warm laugh, his childlike tantrums and impossible heart. The kind of idiot who eats samosas at a fair like it’s a religion and makes everything louder, messier, brighter.

fuck—I love him. I love this idiot so much it physically hurts.

And he’s mine.

I huffed a laugh and leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. He stilled. I could feel his heartbeat.

“It’s a moonstone,” I murmured.

Amit’s breath caught.

I ran my fingers over the cool stone. “You said you didn’t know if you were supposed to reach for the moon, if you deserved to hold it or not,” I said softly. “Well now, you will always get to hold it.”

Silence. When I glanced up, Amit was staring. His usual cockiness had vanished. His expression was unreadable, his lips parted slightly, his eyes dark.

“Amit?”

His fingers curled around my jaw, his touch featherlight, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold me like this. Like he was afraid I’d disappear. His thumb traced my cheek, his breath warm against my lips.

And then—he kissed me.

Soft. Careful.

Not like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, not like he’d burned for it—but like he was afraid to rush it. Like he wanted to memorize me first.

His lips pressed against mine, slow and reverent, a sigh against my skin. His hands, warm and steady, slid up my arms, fingertips brushing my shoulders, my collarbone—tracing the shape of me, as if to make sure I was real.

I shuddered. He felt it.

Amit’s breath hitched, and something in him shifted. The hesitation melted into something more certain, more possessive. His hand slid down, fingers skimming my ribs before curling around my waist.

The second kiss was deeper. More claiming.

A sharp gasp caught in my throat, but Amit didn’t stop—didn’t give me space to think. His lips moved against mine, slow but insistent, coaxing me open, and then—his tongue, hot and teasing, traced the seam of my lips.

I whimpered.

Amit groaned. Like he’d been waiting for that sound. Like he’d wanted to hear me come undone beneath him for so, so long.

His hands roamed, fingers pressing into my back, sliding under my shirt, mapping the heat of my skin. He touched me like he’d always wanted to—like this was something he’d thought about late at night, in the spaces between friendship and longing, in every moment he’d held himself back.

My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.

And then, just when I was sure I was going to combust, he pulled back—barely. Just enough to look at me.

His eyes.

I had seen Amit in every mood possible—annoyed, amused, smug, lazy, utterly unbothered—but I had never seen him look at me like this.

Like I was his.

Like he was mine.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost dazed. “You’re really mine.”

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, unsteady and breathless. “Yeah,” I whispered back. “I guess I am.”

Amit’s face split into a grin, his dimples flashing before he ruined me all over again by pressing another kiss to my lips—quick, soft, but still enough to make me dizzy.

Then, he kept going.

A kiss on my cheek. Another. The tip of my nose. The corner of my mouth. My jaw. My temple. Everywhere.

I groaned, shoving at his chest. “Okay, stop—”

“Never,” he said, grinning against my skin.

I hated him. I really did.

God, I really love him.

My chest hurts with it, this feeling so big, so overwhelming, I don’t know what to do with it except hold him.

So I do.

My fingers trace the line of his jaw, the shape of him—his cheek, warm under my touch, the faintest stubble ghosting over my palm. His lips, swollen, red, mine. His dimple, half-there because he’s watching me like I’m something worth watching.

Amit lets me touch him, really touch him, like he knows I need this.

His lashes flicker as I run my thumb over his mouth, and then he leans in, pressing into my touch, eyes dark and steady and so, so serious.

Amit’s fingers trace slow, lazy patterns against my waist, his voice quieter now, like he’s telling me a secret.

“You know,” he starts, “the first time I saw you… you were standing on your balcony. Just this tiny, wide-eyed kid, clutching the railing like you weren’t sure if you belonged there.”

I remember that day. New apartment, new city, new everything. I had been miserable.

Amit’s voice drops lower. “I waved at you. You stared. Then you ran inside like I’d shot you.”

I groan, burying my face in his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, his fingers curling around the back of my neck, warm and familiar. “I don’t know why, but I just… knew,” he says. “I knew I wanted to be around you. I didn’t understand it then, obviously—I was just some dumb kid. But I wanted you to see me. To know me.”

I lift my head, and his eyes are already on me—serious, soft, so painfully sure.

“I get it now,” he murmurs. “Why I always found you. Why I always chose you.”

His thumb brushes against my jaw, his touch featherlight, and I feel it everywhere.

“I don’t think I could’ve done anything else,” he whispers. “Even if I tried.”

His hand finds my waist again, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring me the way I’m savoring him. Like he’s memorizing every inch.

I feel helpless under his touch.

He tilts his head, his lips hovering over mine again, close enough to steal the breath from my lungs—

And then his damn phone rings.

We freeze.

The shrill tone shatters the moment, and I burst out laughing. Amit groans, murderous.

“I swear to God—”

I shove him, rolling off to the side. “Go answer your stupid call. I need to pee.”

Amit grabs my wrist before I can get up, pulling me back for one last kiss—quick, a little desperate, like he’s not done with me yet.

Then he lets go, sighing dramatically as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “This better be important.”

I grin, shaking my head as I stand, lighter than air.

This—whatever this is, whatever we are now—settles into my bones like it’s always belonged there. Like it’s been waiting.

I take a few steps, then pause, something tugging at me, something inevitable.

When I glance back, Amit’s still watching me, sitting against the tree. Messy hair, red lips, eyes dark and steady, like he’s memorizing me even now.

My chest goes tight.

Mine.

I press my teeth into my bottom lip, forcing down the ridiculous grin threatening to take over, and turn away before I do something embarrassing—like run back to him.

I should have never walked away.

I should have never left him. Never stepped out of that moment, never let go of his hand, never convinced myself there would be more time. More laughter. More ridiculous games. More of him.

I want to go back.

God, I want to go back.

If I had known that was it, the last time, the last moment before everything shattered—I wouldn’t have left. I would have stayed under that tree, arms around him, the whole world be damned. I would have pressed my forehead to his, let his warmth sink into my skin, and never moved. Never breathed without him. Never let the night end.

But I did.

I walked away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. I should have stopped myself. I should have held on tighter. I should have known.

But I didn’t.

And now I am here, in a house that should have been his, with a heart that should still be his, wanting someone else. Thinking about someone else. Letting Raj’s voice, Raj’s touch, Raj’s absence consume me in ways that Amit’s never did.

And I hate myself for it.

I press my forehead against my knees, shaking. If I had one wish, just one, I wouldn’t waste it on fixing the present. Wouldn’t waste it on undoing the guilt curdling in my stomach, wouldn’t waste it on making sense of this unbearable, tangled mess of grief and desire.

I’d go back.

I’d stop myself from walking away.

I’d stay under that tree, Amit’s arms around me, and I’d never, never let go.