Chapter 31

Kabir's POV 

Kabir lay awake long after the call ended, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of her words settle over him. He had expected hesitation, expected her to wrestle with the decision. But he hadn't expected honesty.

Because when Aria said she was terrified, he had felt it.

She hadn't hidden behind sarcasm or deflection. She had let him see something raw, something unguarded, and that meant more than her answer itself.

He could still hear the words replaying in his head.

I wanted to say no. Because I've spent my whole life making sure no one could control me. Making sure no one could tell me what to do, where to be, how to live.

And then.

But I don't want to leave.

That was the part that had unraveled something in him. The part that told him, no matter how much she fought it, no matter how much she feared it—she was already falling too.

The old him, the one who calculated every risk, who never walked into a deal unless he knew exactly how it would end, would have told himself to stop. To pull back before it was too late.

But with her? He didn't want to pull back.

If I don't take the shot, I won't know the end.

And for once, he let that be enough.

The next morning, the air buzzed with quiet goodbyes as the Meraki team prepared to leave. Aria stood near Paul, arms crossed as he packed the last of his things into the car, her expression unreadable. Paul, ever perceptive, leaned in and whispered something to Aisha, who gave a small, knowing nod in return.

Kabir caught the exchange, and when he glanced at Aria, she had noticed too. Their eyes flicked toward Aisha, who simply smirked, zipped her lips shut, and turned away.

He sighed. "I feel like we're being watched."

Aria exhaled. "You're just figuring that out now?"

Paul threw his arms around Aria, making a show of sighing dramatically. "Try not to cause too much emotional chaos while I'm gone, yeah?"

Aria shoved him off. "Get in the damn car, Paul."

With a wink, he climbed into the front seat, and soon, the team was gone. The resort felt quieter now. More still.

Kabir turned to Aria. "Walk with me?"

For a second, she hesitated. Then, she smiled. Not a smirk. Not teasing. Just a simple, genuine smile. "Sure."

They walked without direction, taking the shaded paths that wound through the resort, the distant sound of water from the reflecting pools filling the silence between them. It wasn't the silence they were used to—the kind edged with sharp words and stubborn battles. This was something else entirely.

"What's the best meal you've ever had?" Aria asked suddenly, looking at him curiously.

He thought for a moment. "Naples. A tiny, hole-in-the-wall trattoria. No menu—just whatever the old man running it decided to cook that day."

She tilted her head. "That sounds either amazing or like a complete scam."

"It was both," he admitted. "But I went back three times, so I guess the scam worked."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I would have fallen for that too."

He smirked. "Your best meal?"

"Istanbul," she said without hesitation. "I was backpacking with friends, and we got lost looking for a café. We ended up at this old lady's house because she mistook us for her niece's guests. We tried to explain, but she wouldn't hear a word of it. She just made us sit down and fed us like we were her own."

"You got scammed too."

"The best scam of my life."

He chuckled, watching as she spoke, as she gestured with her hands, as she looked at him without calculation, without expectation. And somewhere in the middle of that, he realized something.

This felt like a date.

He hadn't planned it that way. He hadn't meant for it to feel like one. But the way she was talking, the way she wasn't guarding her words, the way he was completely absorbed in everything she was saying—it was something different. Something easy.

She turned to him suddenly. "I didn't think you were a 'walk for fun' kind of person, Kabir."

"Maybe I just like the company."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, and he found himself watching her a little too closely. The way her hair caught the light when she tucked it behind her ear. The way her fingers brushed against the hem of her sleeve when she was thinking. The way her breath hitched ever so slightly before she responded, like she was still getting used to how easy this felt too.

His breath caught before he could stop it.

They passed an old stone pathway where vines curled lazily around the arching trellis. The light filtered through the leaves, casting intricate patterns against the ground. Aria slowed down, tilting her head up to take it in, her eyes drifting shut for a second like she was letting herself simply feel the moment.

He watched her, trying to remember the last time he had done something like that.

Just… stop.

Let the world exist without thinking about what came next.

"Tell me something random," she said, her voice lighter now, indulgent even. "Something I wouldn't expect about you."

He smirked. "I can make the perfect cup of chai."

She narrowed her eyes. "You? No way."

He gave her a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said dramatically, "you don't give off cozy chai-drinking vibes. More like black coffee, straight up, no sugar, while plotting world domination."

"That's offensive," he muttered.

She laughed, nudging him slightly with her elbow as they walked. The casual touch sent a small, unexpected jolt through him.

It had been unintentional. She wasn't even looking at him. But he felt it anyway.

"Fine," she conceded. "Prove it. Make me the best cup of chai later."

"You just want an excuse to stick around."

She gave him a look, but she was smiling. "Maybe."

They reached one of the reflecting pools, the surface of the water shimmering under the afternoon sun. Aria leaned against the railing, gazing down at it with a thoughtful expression. "This place really is something else."

"You see why I built it now?"

She nodded. "It's… different. Peaceful."

He looked at her then, at the way she spoke like she actually belonged here, at the way she fit into this moment so effortlessly. And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"I like this version of you."

She turned, blinking. "What?"

He didn't take it back. Didn't soften it.

"You," he said simply. "Like this. Unguarded."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing slightly.

And then, because she was Aria, she raised an eyebrow. "So you admit you like me, Mr. Oberoi?"

He smirked, but there was weight behind his voice. "I never said I didn't."

Her breath caught, just barely.

For the first time, something shifted between them—something real, something neither of them knew how to define.

And neither of them moved to stop it.