Can't Stay Away ✔️

45. Drunk

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A Y E S H A

As I stand in front of the mirror, I can't help but stare at the ring on my finger, the one Arjun slipped on me while I was bleeding out, promising we'd get married. As I stare at the ring, it's hard not to marvel at how perfect it is—delicate yet bold, just like our relationship. The band is an intricate weave of platinum and gold, twisting together like the path we've walked, separate yet intertwined. The center stone is a sparkling emerald cut diamond, not too large or flashy, but stunning in its clarity and elegance, surrounded by smaller diamonds that shimmer with every turn of my hand. It's more than just a piece of jewelry; it's a reflection of everything we've been through—the battles we've fought, the love we've built, the future we're still figuring out.

The design is classic, timeless, something that doesn't scream for attention but quietly commands it. Arjun had chosen it with so much care, knowing I wouldn't want anything too showy. I remember when he slipped it onto my finger, the metal cool against my skin as my blood soaked the ground beneath me. Even in that chaotic, painful moment, this ring became my anchor, a symbol of his promise to me that we'd make it through. It's not just beautiful—it holds a deeper meaning, a reminder of the love that saved me when I thought all was lost

Arjun had wanted to get married the moment I left the hospital. He'd been so adamant about it, his words echoing in my mind: "Let's do it, Ayesha. I don't want to wait anymore." But I couldn't. I wasn't ready, and neither was he, even if he couldn't admit it. We both needed time to heal from the trauma, to find ourselves again after everything we'd been through.

I hadn't told him directly, but I couldn't shake the feeling that his mother was part of the reason I held back. Ever since the attack, she's been trying to make amends, showing up at our place, bringing food, asking how I'm doing. She's been softer, kinder in a way she never was before. It's as if my brush with death changed something in her, made her realize what she could have lost. But it's hard for me to let go of the hurt, the way she made me feel like I didn't belong, like I wasn't good enough for her son.

Now, with her sudden shift, I'm too exhausted to deal with it. I appreciate her efforts, but I can't just forget everything because she's decided to change her opinion of me. I don't have the energy to mend that bridge, not right now. And Arjun, in his way, has become my protector, shielding me from her persistent attempts at reconciliation. He knows I'm not ready to face that yet, and he hasn't pushed me. He's respected my boundaries, but I know it's hard for him.

Apparently, when a billionaire's girlfriend gets shot, it turns into national fucking news. So, of course, my father found out—because why wouldn't he? The universe has a twisted sense of humor. He called, all concerned, saying he wanted to visit and that my loving mother was really concerned, but honestly, I didn't have the mental bandwidth to deal with him. I could barely handle my own emotions, let alone the emotional storm that is my dysfunctional family.

Naturally, he tried to go through Arjun, thinking he could play the "dad card." But Arjun, being Arjun, wasn't having any of it. If he had his way, he would've probably told my father to simple fuck off. But for my sake—and only for my sake—he played nice. Well, nicer than he wanted to, anyway. I could practically see the effort it took for him not to say, "Absolutely not. Go fuck yourselves."

In the past month, Arjun has been more than just caring—he's been relentless in his concern. It's as if, in every gesture, he's trying to make up for something he believes he failed at. I've seen the guilt written in every furrow of his brow, in the way he flinches when I wince, as if my pain is his burden to bear. And maybe it is, in his mind.