The discharge papers felt like a victory to Asha, but to Rohan and Roy, they felt like a countdown.
Asha walked out of the hospital doors leaning slightly on Rohan's arm. She was wearing a new coat he had bought her—camel hair, soft and expensive—to hide how much weight she had lost. The winter air was crisp, biting at her cheeks, but she inhaled it as if it were the finest perfume.
"Where are we going?" she asked, noticing Rohan wasn't heading toward the hostel. "My things are still at the hostel, Rohan."
"You're not going back there," Rohan said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Roy's house is closer to the medical center for your 'follow-ups,' and besides, the stairs at your hostel are a safety hazard."
"But—"
"No 'buts,' Architect," Rohan interrupted, a forced smirk on his face. "But before we go home, there's someone you need to meet. Or rather, something."
He drove to the heart of the business district, where the skeleton of a massive skyscraper rose into the gray sky like a ribcage of steel. Crane arms swung lazily against the clouds, and the roar of jackhammers filled the air. This was the Skyline Tower—the project of her dreams.
Rohan pulled the car to a stop near the construction gate. He stepped out and opened her door, handing her a white hard hat with the Vanguard logo on it.
"What are we doing here?" Asha whispered, her eyes wide as she looked up at the dizzying height of the structure.
"Your CEO mentioned you were having trouble visualizing the atrium flow from the blueprints," Rohan lied, guiding her toward the elevator—a temporary steel cage used by workers. "I told him a field visit was necessary."
Roy waited by the car, his guitar case in the trunk, watching them with a heavy heart. He knew why Rohan was doing this. This wasn't a "field visit." This was a pilgrimage.
The elevator rattled as it ascended, the city floor dropping away. Asha clutched the railing, her breath hitching. Rohan stood close, his hand hovering behind her waist, ready to catch her if her strength failed. As they reached the twentieth floor—the highest point currently floored—the cage stopped.
They stepped out onto a concrete slab, open to the wind. The entire city was laid out beneath them like a map.
"This is it," Rohan said, gesturing to the open space. "This is where your glass atrium begins. This is where your lines become reality."
Asha walked to the edge, the wind whipping her hair. She looked at the steel beams, then back at the city, her eyes filling with a raw, radiant light. She reached out and touched a cold, rusted girder. To her, it wasn't just metal; it was proof that she existed.
"I'm actually here," she breathed. "I'm not just a girl on a park bench anymore."
She turned to Rohan, her smile so bright it felt like a physical blow to his chest. "Thank you, Rohan. For not letting me stay invisible."
Rohan looked at her, the wind stinging his eyes. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to scream that she wouldn't be here to see the glass installed. He wanted to tell her that every brick laid was a second closer to her end.
Instead, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a second too long.
"You did the work, Asha," he said, his voice thick. "I just gave you a ride."
For a moment, standing on that unfinished floor between the earth and the sky, the cancer didn't exist. The stalker didn't exist. There was only the architect and the man who had finally learned how to love something he couldn't keep.
As they descended, the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows over the city. Asha was exhausted, her head nodding against the car window before they even reached the highway.
Rohan watched her in the rearview mirror, her breathing shallow and rhythmic. He looked at Roy, whose face was set in a grim mask of grief.
"She touched it," Rohan whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "She touched her dream."
"She did," Roy replied. "Now, how do we keep her from waking up?"