It was afternoon when I woke up to the sharp ring of my phone. I fumbled for it, my body still heavy and warm from sleep.

"Hey Maggie, what's up?"

"I wanted to go to the mall for shopping. Would you come?"

"Yes, I would love to."

I turned over. Advik was still sleeping, his face buried in the pillow, one arm stretched across my side of the bed as if he had been searching for me even in his dreams. I nudged him gently.

"Advik, get up. I need to get ready. I'm going shopping."

He groaned, cracking one eye open. It landed on me, and a slow, sleepy smile curved his lips.

"Yes. But I will drop you off."

I got ready quickly, choosing a floral white dress that felt light against my skin. When I stepped out, I realized it matched Advik's white t-shirt perfectly. He noticed too, his eyes lighting up with approval as he crossed the room toward me.

He grabbed my hand and removed the leather bracelet from his own wrist — the one he never took off — and fastened it around mine. His fingers lingered, adjusting it until it sat just right.

"You look so pretty." His voice was soft, reverent. "Wear this. Everyone should know you belong to me."

I rolled my eyes, but my chest tightened. "Always so possessive."

"I don't share what's mine, kitten." His hand found my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "And when it's you — not even a single glance."

He wrapped his arm around me and led me to the car. His grip never loosened, his thumb tracing idle circles against my hip as we walked, marking me with every step.

He dropped me at the mall entrance, leaned across the seat, and kissed me — deep and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Then he pulled back, his thumb brushing my lower lip.

"Call me when you're done. I'll pick you up."

I nodded, stepping out of the car, my fingers touching my tingling lips as he drove away.

Maggie was already waiting near the entrance, waving excitedly. But standing beside her was Sahil. My stomach dropped. What was he doing here?

"We have a surprise for you!" Maggie grabbed my hands, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and made me close my eyes.

I let her lead me forward, my heart beating faster with every step, a strange unease coiling in my chest.

When I opened my eyes, I froze.

Sahil was kneeling on one knee. In his hand, held up toward me, was a ring. A small crowd had gathered around us, phones out, whispering and watching.

I was shocked. My mind went blank. I didn't expect this — I never expected this. Panic surged through me as I looked around at all the faces. How could I say no in front of so many people? How could I break his heart so publicly?

I was confused, frozen, my mouth opening and closing without a sound.

Then I saw Sahil's face turn pale.

The color drained from his cheeks, his eyes fixed on something behind me. I turned to look, but before I could even catch a glimpse, a hand gripped my waist and a kiss crashed down on my lips.

Advik.

He kissed me right there in front of everyone — possessive, fierce, a statement written in breath and silence. It wasn't soft. It was a claim. A brand. He was showing every single person in that mall exactly who I belonged to.

And I didn't back down. I kissed him back, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, my heart thundering against his chest.

When we broke apart, breathless, the mall had gone silent. I looked around at the stunned faces, at Sahil still kneeling there, the ring trembling in his fingers.

Advik turned to Sahil, his arm locked around my waist, his eyes burning with rage and triumph.

"She is my woman." His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "And you will stay the hell away from her."

Sahil smiled. It wasn't happy. It wasn't kind. It was the smile of a man who had just watched his own funeral and decided to deliver the eulogy himself.

He stood up, brushing invisible dust from his knee, and looked Advik dead in the eye.

"She is your woman?" His voice was quiet, but it carried. The crowd leaned in. "When did you ever treat her like one? You played with other women while she was suffering. You couldn't even see that she was leaving you — that she had someone, anyone else but you."

And then Sahil punched him.

It was so sudden that the sound of it — a sharp, wet crack — seemed to arrive before the action. Advik's head snapped to the side, his body stumbling back a step. The crowd gasped, a collective inhale that rippled through the mall like wind through grass.

Sahil didn't follow up. He just stood there, his fist still clenched, trembling at his side.

"That," he said, his voice shaking, "is for the punch I didn't retaliate. Because I cared for her more than I cared about my pride."

He turned to me.

His eyes were glistening — not with tears, but with a pain so sharp it looked like glass. It made my chest ache in a way Advik's violence never had. This hurt clean. This hurt because it was love that had actually been real, even if it hadn't been enough.

"This was the last time I tried," he said. "Because I loved you. I really, truly loved you. I'm not going to force you. I'm not going to beg." He swallowed hard. "May you be happy with him. Just... don't let him burn out the parts of you that used to light up a room."

Then Sahil walked away.

He didn't look back. Not once. The ring lay forgotten on the polished floor, glinting under the mall lights like a dropped promise.