Her hands frame my face, and she tilts my head so I'm looking straight into her eyes. But this time, what stares back at me isn't mischief or teasing. It's pain. Vulnerability. Fear.

The shift hits me like a blow. Her walls, the ones she hides behind so well, are gone, and I can see the storm raging inside her. I don't want to understand, but I do. Her inner thoughts are written all over her face, and as they settle into my mind, my body visibly recoils, under the weight of what I know is coming.

No. I don't want her to say it. I can't bear to see her broken again. I've pieced her together before, but if she falls apart now, I'm not sure I'll survive it. Yet the look in her eyes—raw and pleading—tells me she's already decided. She needs to let this out. She's burdened by it.

So, I do what I've vowed to always do for her. I steel myself. Whatever it is, I'll carry it. For her.

"Vikram, I need to tell you something," she begins, her voice trembling. "Please, don't interrupt me. And most importantly, listen to the entire thing before you make any decisions."