Page 61 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“But she has been hurt before.” Her eyes went hard and sharp. The look that said she’d bury my body where no one would find it if I stepped out of line. “That stupid boy hurt her badly and broke her trust.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She stepped closer. I was six-foot-three, and she barely cleared five-five, but somehow she was the one looming. “Because if you hurt her, and if you make her feel small or unwanted or not good enough, I will make sure you regret it. Olympic medal or not.”

I believed her. Completely.

“I won’t hurt her, ma’am,” I said, meaning it. “I promise.”

She studied my face for a long moment and then nodded once. “Good. Now eat. You’re too skinny for an athlete.”

I blinked at her as she piled two gulab jamun on my plate and walked away, leaving me holding a plate of sweets that I had to finish. Ethan had warned me how Indian parents were. Kiara’s mom, when she was alive, would invite Ethan over often and feed him a lot, and if he didn’t finish his food, she’d get disappointed.

So I had to finish it. And I did.

The guests started trickling out sometime after dinner, the aunties and uncles hugging Kiara and Ethan and offering unsolicited advice about married life. Kids were dragged away mid-game, protesting loudly.

I found Deepika in the living room, slumped on the couch, looking exhausted. The heavy silver earrings, called jhumkas, were clearly bothering her. She kept reaching up to adjust them.

I sat down beside her. “Want help with those?”

She looked surprised, but she nodded. I knew she was tired when she didn’t fight me.

I reached up carefully, finding the hook mechanism. My fingers brushed her neck, and she shivered. The earrings came off easily, and they were heavier than they looked.

“The maang tikka too?” I gestured to the piece of jewelry sitting on her forehead, connected to her hair. She looked like an Indian princess dressed that way with traditional jewelry.

But I’d rather choke than tell her that.

“Go ahead.”

I unclasped it gently, trying not to pull her hair, and she sighed in relief when it came free.

“Better?”

“So much better.” She stretched her neck, rolling her shoulders. “These things are beautiful, but heavy after a while.”

“Want me to carry you everywhere? Save your pretty feet?”

She playfully slapped my arm. “I’m not that fragile.”

“I didn’t say you were. I’m just offering my services as a human transportation device.”

She giggled, making my heart do something weird. “I didn’t know you could be nice.”

I grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, or else it’ll ruin my image.”

She chuckled, shaking her head, and stood to help with the cleanup.

My gaze followed her across the room. The way the lehenga moved with her body. The way she immediately jumped in to help without being asked. The way she smiled at Kiara and Ethan as they laughed. That was the real Deepika and not the fake smiles she had been wearing around Yash.

“You love her.”

I turned. Eveline, Ethan’s little sister, sat on the couch beside me, eating gulab jamun with her hands, syrup everywhere.

“I don’t—” I started.

“You do.”