Even the shop feels more alive, and when I make my way inside, the sunlight is streaming through the windows, making all the glass cases sparkle. Sundar is at his usual spot behind the counter, looking unfairly gorgeous as he examines what appears to be a definitely cursed pocket watch. His golden eyes narrow in concentration, and his tail sweeps slowly across the floor as he’s deep in thought.
I check my phone calendar while waiting for him to finish.
Wait. That can’t be right.
“Hey,” I say, approaching the counter. “Did you realize it’s been almost five weeks since you hired me?”
Something flickers across his face—too quick to catch—before he sets down the watch. “Has it?”
“It has. Which means the contract’s almost up… So, does this mean I finally get my bracelet back?”
To be honest, I forgot about the bracelet and the contract, and really thought bringing it up now would be more amusing than anything.
Instead, Sundar’s entire body goes still—that predator-stillness that usually only happens when he’s truly upset or about to do deliciously wicked things to me. Given his expression, I’m guessing it’s not the fun kind this time.
“The bracelet requires additional research,” he says, his voice clipped and formal in a way I haven’t heard in a while. “There are certain anomalies that need investigation.”
I blink. “Anomalies? It’s just a family heirloom. What’s there to investigate?”
“Aubrey.” He says my name carefully. “Please trust that this is necessary.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. This isn’t my Sundar—the one who whispers filthy promises against my neck and grins at my terrible puns. This is the distant shopkeeper who first appraised my bracelet, keeping me at arm’s length.
“Sure,” I say lightly, even as anxiety crawls up my throat. “Whatever you need.”
His tail, which usually can’t resist curling around my ankle when I’m this close, remains firmly at his side of the counter.
The next few days become an exercise in pretending everything is fine when very clearly nothing is fine. Sundar still kisses me good morning, still makes me tea exactly how I like it, still wraps me in his tail at night. But there’s a new tension humming beneath every interaction, like a guitar string wound too tight.
I catch him in his office late one night, surrounded by ancient books that smell like dust and secrets. My bracelet sits on his desk, catching the lamplight. When I walk in, he quickly shifts the texts aside.
“Just standard research,” he says before I can ask.
“Right.” I force a smile. “Standard research at midnight. Totally normal.”
He doesn’t smile back.
The worst part is how my brain immediately starts spinning worst-case scenarios. Is he having second thoughts about us? Did Nalini come back? Is he finally realizing that dating a basic human girl who still watches Disney movies and stress-eats Oreos isn’t exactly on brand for an ancient, powerful naga?
“You’re spiraling again,” Maggie says when I voice these fears over lunch. “Have you tried, oh, I don’t know… asking him what’s wrong?”
I poke at my pad thai. “I have, I swear. He just gets all formal and vague. Like, ‘These matters require discretion, Aubrey.’ Which, okay, it’s sexy when he’s being commanding in bed, but much less sexy when he’s clearly hiding something important.”
“Men,” Maggie sighs. “Doesn’t matter if they’re human or monster, they all suck at communication.”
But it’s more than that. Something about my bracelet has him spooked, and I can’t shake the feeling it’s about more than just magical anomalies. The way he looks at it recently… It's like he’s afraid of what it might tell him.
I almost find myself wishing I’d never pawned it in the first place. But, of course, then I would have never met him and had my world turned upside down in all the right ways.
I’ll never come to regret these last couple of months, will I?
The worry keeps growing by the minute.
This morning, I make one last attempt to bridge the growing distance between us. I find Sundar in his usual spot, his tail moving in that agitated way that’s starting to become commonplace. The morning light catches his scales, making them shimmer gold and black, and for a moment I just watch him—this beautiful, impossible creature who somehow became mine.
Or at least, I thought he was mine.
“Can we talk?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “About whatever’s bothering you? About the bracelet?”
