Aarohi found Kabir in the gym at six in the morning.
He stood in the center of the boxing ring, his hands wrapped, his bare chest slick with sweat. The punching bag in front of him was torn and leaking sand. He had been there for hours.
She climbed through the ropes and stood across from him.
"You did not sleep," she said.
"Neither did you."
She looked at his hands. The knuckles were raw and bleeding.
"You talked to Vikram."
"I beat information out of Vikram." He unwrapped his hands and tossed the tape aside. "He is the one who has been hunting you. He is also the one who ordered the hospital bombing. He is the one who killed my mother."
Aarohi's blood went cold. "Your mother?"
"Vikram was the Surgeon. The head of the medical black market. My mother discovered his operation. He had her killed." Kabir's voice was flat. "He has been sitting at my table for ten years. He has been advising me. Protecting me. Building my empire. And all that time, he was the man who destroyed my family."
Aarohi wanted to reach for him. She wanted to hold him. But she did not know if she had the right.
"Kabir—"
"Do not." He held up his hand. "I am not ready to hear your voice yet. I am not ready to look at you and see The Architect instead of my wife."
She stepped back. The distance between them felt like a chasm.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to go back to your suite. I want you to rest. And when I am ready, I will come find you." He looked at her. "We still have a contract, Aarohi. Two years. We still have to pretend for the world."
"And after the two years?"
His jaw tightened. "We will figure that out when we get there."
He walked past her and climbed out of the ring. He disappeared into the locker room without looking back.
Aarohi stood alone in the gym, surrounded by the smell of sweat and blood and broken things.
The ring weighed heavy on her finger.