Unfinished Us.✔️

Chapter 36

5 Months Later...

He was holding a withered dahlia—the very one she had planted. She had always been drawn to nature, to the calm that came from dirt under her nails and the fragrance of freshly bloomed petals. Her favorite place was the garden, always humming to herself while planting something new. It gave her happiness—simple, honest happiness.

Now, that dahlia mirrored him. A fleeting moment between life and death—beautiful in its decay, tragic in its silence.

The decision hadn't been easy. But the day he walked away, he convinced himself it was the right thing—for her, and for Aryana. They deserved peace, something his presence could never offer.

So what if his odyssey to love would remain unfinished?

The people he loved most were happy.

Right?

But sometimes, when the silence was too loud and the nights too long, he wondered... if he hadn't left, would they have wanted him to stay? Would they have chosen him the way he chose them every single day in his heart?

Do they miss him... the way he misses them?

Has she moved on?

The thought burned. Jealousy—a cold flame licking at the edges of his heart. He couldn't have her. But letting her go? That was a lie he told himself every morning.

Because she wasn't just a chapter in his life.

She was the entire book.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He answered without checking the screen.

"Sir, your jet is ready... Shall we go?" came Ron's voice, professional and calm.

A low hum in response, then silence.

He slid the phone back into his pocket and looked once more at the dying flower in his hand. Its petals curled inwards, like secrets kept too long. With a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he stepped out of the car, carrying the dahlia with him.

Ron nodded, seeing his boss approach, flanked by guards like shadows.

The jet hummed with power as they boarded. Ron, ever the watchful second, ensured everything was in order. After what happened four months ago, he took no chances. His boss had made enemies—more than before. But Ron knew one thing: as long as he breathed, nothing would touch Arjun.

Because Arjun Rajvansh wasn't a good man. No. He was a storm wrapped in silk, the most lethal man Ron had ever seen. He'd witnessed him dismantle his own father—one of India's most powerful men—without a flicker of guilt. That kind of man fears nothing, spares no one.

Their destination: Cambridge. An important deal.

After checking into the hotel, Ron swept through the room with military precision before Arjun entered.

Arjun, now inside, sat at the desk, laptop open, mind half-present. That was when his phone lit up.

The name on the screen made him frown.

Her.

Didn't he make it clear? There was no relationship left. No calls. No ties.

He declined the call.

It rang again.

A sigh. He picked up, irritation sharp in his tone.

"What?"

"Arjun... bete, did you reach safely?"

His jaw clenched.

"I told you not to call me. Your husband's fine. He wants to talk to you—I've arranged everything. Go see him if you want."