Twist, twist, twist!

Chapter 25. And he just left? Without a fucking goodbye?

When I woke up on a Tuesday, feeling energized and joyful, the last thing I expected was to get the biggest shock of my life.

It started when I opened my door with a bright smile, purposely wearing a flimsy top and a size too-small red shorts. Mentally prepped to tease Nimit for successfully making me addicted to him, I even skip wearing a bra. But instead of my usual handsome expressionless man, I find Greg outside the door.

His eyes widen and I don't miss the light appreciative perusal of my outfit. But he's decent enough to look away quickly and awkwardly clear his throat. "Ms. Mehta, Good Morning."

Embarrassment rises on my face, staining my neck and cheeks. I quickly step back into the room, scanning the corridor for my bodyguard. "Um, Good morning. Where's Nimit?"

Greg shifts on his knees as if this is the last conversation he wants to have. He avoids looking at me and I don't know if it's because of my lack of clothes or because he is guilty of something. I get my answer when Greg licks his lips and answers. "Mr. Verma was um, fired today morning."

My jaw drops on the floor and my eyebrows shoot up. It's as if someone has thrown me off a boat and all I can do is spurt out water in shock and flay my arms. "I am sorry?"

"Your father fired him."

I shake my head, forcing a chuckle. Is this some game Nimit is playing with me? Is this his way of ghosting me? Is this a prank in his books? I look around again, expecting him to pop out of nowhere with a playful smirk but I all get is a dazed silence.

Confusion rises in my belly. "Why would my father fire him?" I rub my forehead. "That makes no sense."

Greg scratches his arm, still not looking at me. "I am not at liberty to disclose details. I apologize."

I scoff, now feeling the shock slowly shift to anger, blinding hot anger. "And he just left? Without a fucking goodbye?"

This time Greg looks at me and I can see the sympathy and pity in his eyes. Neither of which I want. Neither of which makes me feel better. "He wasn't allowed to."

My hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I grit my teeth and my nose flares with barely restrained fury. "Allowed to? Are you fucking kidding me? My father didn't allow him to say goodbye?" I can feel my entire body cackling with seething rage that threatens to consume me whole. "That's it! I am done!" I hiss, starting to storm towards my father's office but Greg steps in front of me, stopping me. "What?" I spit out, not caring that my anger is displaced.

Greg glances at my clothes once again then clears his throat, a light pink hue tinging his cheeks. Is he blushing? Seriously!? "Um, can you please change into something... more appropriate?"

For the second time, my jaw drops. This has to be a fucking joke, right? He didn't just say that to me. "Change?" I point at my clothes, looking at him challengingly. "What is wrong with my clothes?"

I can see how discomforting this is for Greg but I don't care. Someone needs to face my wrath. "Uh, there are a few men downstairs today. Mr. Verma suggested you wear track pants and a sweatshirt."

I press my lips together, confused between laughing at his audacity and fuming at his concern. "Did he now?" Even when fired that man manages to control me and guard me. Ugh, how I hate him! I raise my eyebrows at Greg. "And if I don't?"

His answer is curt. "I get fired."

I sigh heavily and roll my eyes, storming back into my bedroom and slamming my door shut. I come out 10 minutes later, wearing a yellow sweatshirt and chocolate track pants. I give Greg a stiff smile and twirl around. "Happy now?"

Greg blinks at the wall behind me and gives a stiff nod. "Yes. Thank you."

"Whatever." I mutter under my breath, charging towards my father's office. My anger hasn't lowered even a bit, in fact, it's only increased. And the closer I get towards my father's office, the more livid I get.

I don't even care to knock this time, I swing the door open. My father sits behind his desk, calmly talking to another man in his mid-fifties. He glances at me in surprise, as if he is blissfully unaware of the storm he's just brewed. "Aisha, hello. Meet Mr. Jayden, he's the CEO of Goodwell & Max. A construction company that is sure to lead over the country soon." I force a smile, biting my lip to stop blurting out profanities. "Hello, Mr. Jayden. Father, a word?"

Mr. Jayden notices the tension and quickly excuses himself. My father looks at me in displeasure, scowling at my sudden and unwanted presence. "Aisha, you cannot be so rude. What is wrong with you? That man is going to sponsor my next campaign, I need us to be kissing the ground he walks on and-"

"Where is Nimit?" My fists clench at my sides and I am surprised at how steady I sound, unlike the raging turmoil I feel inside.

My father's expression quickly shifts, neutral, unfazed, like a lying politician. "Mr. Verma is preoccupied and shall not be your bodyguard anymore. Greg is a temporary replacement until he proves otherwise."

I struggle to keep my tears at bay, the emotions are overwhelming, anger, resentment, frustration, misery, all clouding into one big hurricane threatening to destroy my mental health.

"Why did you fire him?"

He looks up, his gaze steadfast. "Aisha, please understand, it was a necessary decision."

Necessary? The word echoes in my mind, mocking the very essence of my safety. How could dismissing the one person sworn to protect me be deemed necessary? The only person who'd do anything and everything to keep me safe.

"Necessary? You call leaving me defenceless necessary?" My words cut through the air like a sharpened blade, each syllable dripping with venom. "You are the one who insisted that I have a bodyguard, you were so damn adamant about it. And now – why!? I thought you liked him!"

"Me liking him has nothing to do with the job, Aisha. Please understand, this is for your own good." he counters, his tone firm but tinged with a hint of regret.

I scoff inwardly, incredulous at his audacity. "My own good? I didn't even get to say goodbye! He just – disappeared!" My voice trembles with pain and my father's eyes narrow, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Is there something I should know?"

I swallow my tears. I'd rather cut my tongue than give my father another reason to keep Nimit away from me. "Yes. You should know the only thing causing me pain is YOU. Is his company also fired?"

His jaw tightens, the lines on his forehead deepening with the weight of my knowledge. Finally, he sighs and shakes his head. "No, just him."

"Why?"

The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

"Tell me, please. I deserve to know, don't I?" The fire in my eyes softens into a plea. "Dad, please."

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily. "The attack that happened at Sania's house. It wasn't for you or her."

My eyebrows furrow, that incident seems so long back now, so much has happened since then. "Okay? We knew that already, that's why I am here and not in a safe house."

His expression softens, a flicker of remorse dancing in the depths of his eyes. But as quickly as it surfaced, the moment fades into the shadows, replaced by the stoic resolve. "The attack was for him, for Nimit. Someone wants him dead."

And for the third time, my jaw drops. My lips move but the connection between my frazzled brain and mouth has disappeared. I can't believe what I am hearing. It just doesn't make sense and there are no dots to connect. "What?"

"You don't know Nimit as well as you think you do." My father murmurs, his voice heavy with pity. "He has a past and too many secrets and now they are catching up to him. He's a threat to you, he can't protect you when his own life is in danger. And he agrees. I didn't fire him. He left."

He left.

He left.

He left.

The words ring in my ears over and over, like a symphony of my worst nightmares. I shake my head, refusing to believe it but I remember the way he had stiffened when I jokingly suggested the attack was for him. I remember how he didn't talk about his past at all. I remember the feeling in my gut that always told me Nimit was hiding something.

But still, I would've listened. I would've understood. I would've told him to stay. I would've begged.

But he didn't tell me any of it, he didn't want me.

"He left." I whisper before collapsing on the floor, giving into my treacherous fat

How could he leave when I needed him the most?

How could be break my heart the exact same way Ved did?

And they say the past doesn't repeat itself. Fucking lie!

~~~

Your fav novel? Mine is 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon - among many others!