Chapter 27

The evening had settled into a comfortable stillness, the resort bathed in warm golden lights, the occasional rustle of leaves blending with the distant trickle of water features. Aria sat outside her villa, Trek curled up beside her, his tiny body rising and falling in sleep.

She should've been working. Her laptop was open, the campaign notes staring back at her, but her mind was elsewhere.

The descent from the trek had left her off-balance in a way she hadn't expected.

It wasn't just Kabir suggesting the name Trek. It was the way she took it without hesitation.

It was the way he had gone completely still for that fraction of a second.

It was the way that moment had lingered, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

She exhaled, running a hand over Trek's soft fur, willing herself to focus.

Then, a shadow crossed her vision.

She looked up—and froze.

Kabir stood at the edge of the patio, hands in his pockets, watching Trek like he actually gave a damn.

"You're not inside," he noted.

Aria arched a brow. "You checking up on me, Mr. Oberoi?"

His gaze flickered at the nickname, but he didn't bite. Instead, he nodded toward the sleeping puppy.

"He's settled?"

The question was simple. Too simple.

But there was something in the way he asked it that threw her. Like it mattered to him. Like he cared.

She shifted slightly. "Yeah. He's fine."

There was a pause. A second too long.

Then—

"Good," he said quietly. His voice had softened.

And before she could think too much about that, he nodded and turned, walking off into the night.

She watched him go.

Not because she wanted to.

Because she couldn't help it.

She didn't realize how long she had been sitting there, staring blankly at her laptop, until Paul's voice cut through the silence.

"Oh, shit."

She blinked. "What?"

Paul strode over, grinning like he had just won the lottery.

"That was something," he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. "That was nothing."

Paul dropped into the seat across from her, arms folded. "Babe. You're an amazing strategist, but you suck at lying to yourself."

Aria went back to petting Trek. "Kabir was just checking on the dog."

Paul leaned forward, grinning. "Was he? Was he really?"

She scowled. "Paul."

Paul wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh my God. You like him."

Her entire body went rigid.

Paul let out a victorious gasp. "Ohhh, I love this."

She opened her mouth—to argue, to deny everything, to shut him up—

Then stopped.

Because for the first time, she actually thought about it.

And her stomach dipped.

She had spent so much time playing the game, convincing herself that this was all about the push and pull, the challenge, the thrill.

But then Kabir had shown up. At night. Checking on Trek. And she had felt something shift.

And she couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Oh, shit," she muttered, slumping back into her chair.

Paul beamed. "I am so enjoying this."

She threw a pillow at him.

He dodged, laughing. "You like him. And not in the fun, antagonistic way. You like him like him."

Aria groaned into her hands.

"Admit it," Paul sang.

She refused.

Paul leaned back, smug. "Oh, babe. This is only going to get worse."

She didn't respond.

Because he was right.

The knock at her door came late.

Too late for anything but trouble.

Aria exhaled, rubbing her temples. She had just spent the last hour dealing with Paul's smug I-knew-it grin, trying to shove the realization about Kabir into a box and pretend it didn't exist.

She wasn't ready for another interruption.

But when she opened the door—Sanya stood there.

Drunk. Beautiful in that effortlessly perfect way. A half-empty glass of whiskey swaying in her grip.

Aria let out a slow breath.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Sanya smirked, stepping past her without an invitation.

"I just had to know," she said, her voice too smooth, too soft, too slow. "What exactly is going on between you and Kabir?"

Aria shut the door, facing her fully. "That's none of your business."

Sanya let out a laugh—soft, breathy, but bitter. "Oh, sweetheart. I think it is."

Aria crossed her arms. "Why?"

Sanya's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Because I've loved him for years."

Aria stilled.

Sanya sank onto the armrest of the couch, sipping her drink like it could drown the weight of the words.

"I have done everything," she continued, voice quiet. "I have been by his side, invested in his dream, stood in every room, played every role. I have done everything a woman does when she loves a man."

Her hand tightened around the glass.

"And he has never changed for me."

Aria didn't speak.

Because what was there to say?

Sanya let out a breathy chuckle. "So tell me, Aria. Why do you think you're any different?"

The words weren't meant to be cruel. They weren't sharp or mocking.

They were just… exhausted.

A question Sanya was desperate to understand.

Aria met her gaze, something twisting in her chest.

Sanya wasn't her enemy.

Not really.

She was just a woman who had spent years loving someone who had never given her a second glance.

And now, she was watching that same man look at someone else.

Sanya sighed, finishing the last of her drink.

"You know what the worst part is?" she murmured.

Aria didn't answer.

Sanya stood, swaying slightly, but her voice was steady.

"You're not even trying. And somehow, he's already changing for you."

She didn't say it with hatred.

Just undeniable, aching resignation.

Sanya took one last look at her before setting the empty glass down on the counter.

Then, without another word, she walked out.

Leaving Aria with the one question she had no answer to.