The Deceit

CHAPTER 34

MEHER

Josh Pub - Juhu

We are at my favourite club in Mumbai, the Josh Pub , a place that holds a special place in my heart. Ayaan and I have so many memories here. But it’s not just us. It’s memorable for Simran and Vishnu too. It’s where their lives took a turn that neither of them could have predicted. This is where they met on that fateful night—the night that set everything in motion and eventually brought Veer into their lives. Since this place holds pieces of all our stories, Simran, Devika, and I decided to come here tonight to celebrate our getting back together. Being here feels like coming full circle.

The pub is alive with music and laughter. We’re scanning the place when my phone pings with a message from Ayaan. A grin curves across my face as I look up at Simran and Devika, sitting across from me, watching me curiously.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Simran asks, sipping her mocktail with a raised brow.

I hold up my phone, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice and show them the picture Ayaan just sent.

“Your husbands are giving my King some ‘babysitting training,’” she laughs.

Both of them lean in eagerly as I show them the picture that is absolutely precious. Ayaan’s attempted selfie shows him looking completely frazzled, holding Veer in his arms. Behind him, Vishnu is trying—and failing—to suppress his laughter as he holds a wailing Avika mid-tantrum, her mouth wide open as she cries. Meanwhile, Veer is busy reaching for his sister’s hair, mischief practically radiating from his tiny hands as he tries to grip her pigtails. Aksh is sprawled on the floor, surrounded by what looks like every toy the kids own, wearing a tiara that’s slightly too small for his head.

“Oh my god,” Devika wheezes through her laughter. “Is that my husband wearing Avika’s princess crown?”

“Forget the crown,” Simran giggles. “Look at Ayaan’s face! He looks so ready for fatherhood!”

“And Veer is at it again, pulling Avika’s hair,” I add, grinning. “Poor Aksh looks like he’s about to lose his mind.”

“That boy, I swear, was the sweetest when he was in New York,” Simran chuckles, shaking her head. “Now, after coming here, he’s acquired a talent for causing chaos wherever he goes. And Vishnu looks so done with life in this picture.”

“He really does!” I giggle, pointing at Vishnu’s expression. “And Ayaan captioned it, ‘Survival of the Fittest: Fatherhood Edition.’”

We laugh until our sides hurt.

“Speaking of babies,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at them, “we’re hoping to join your parenting club this year.”

“Ooooh!” Simran leans forward excitedly. “Does this mean Operation Baby Shergill is officially in motion?”

“It’s more like Operation Keep-Ayaan-Glued-To-Me-During-Ovulation-Week.” I roll my eyes, making them burst into laughter. “I’ve already warned him—no flying off to Austria for missions until I conceive.”

We again laugh heartily. Just then, our drinks arrive, and we lift our glasses in a toast, clinking them together. Abhay, Simran’s personal bodyguard, and his team maintain their vigilant watch around us, making sure no one bothers us.

“Thank god Vishnu actually allowed this,” Devika says to Simran. “I wasn’t sure we’d pull this off. Our time together—just the three of us.”

“It’s not his fault,” Simran defends him softly. “He’s just worried about the threat that’s still looming over me.”

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“How are you really handling all of that? I can’t imagine how scary it must be knowing someone’s stalking you to hurt you. And on top of that, you’re handling Veer and your business—it must be daunting.”

“Honestly?” She takes another sip of her drink. “Yes, I was scared out of my mind until Vishnu showed up in New York. After that...” she smiles, “I knew I was safe. I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

I smile, nodding. That’s true.

“He just has this way of making me feel like everything will be okay, no matter how bad it gets,” she adds.

Aww.

“We wanted to check on you so badly,” Devika admits quietly.

“She’s right,” I remark. “When we found out how serious these threats were, we were so worried about you, Simran. But at the same time, we were also upset with you for keeping Veer from us. So, even though we wanted to call and check on you, we didn’t.”

Simran nods, her face falling as guilt tugs at her heart.

“But thank God for Vishnu. He kept us regularly updated, letting us know you were safe,” Devika adds.

“And,” I say, grinning, “we also knew if you can handle someone like Vishnu, who has the entire family following his every command when it comes to security, you can handle almost anything.”

We burst into laughter again, the sound drawing the attention of a group of young men nearby. They glance at us with interest, but before they can even think about approaching us, Abhay and his team shift slightly, their stern looks sending an unspoken warning. That was all it took for the group to scurry away without a backward glance.

“Remember when we used to love that kind of attention?” Devika snorts. “Gone are the days of flirting and guys checking us out. Now we’ve got guards glaring down at anyone who even looks at us.”

“We are tied to our husbands for life,” Simran adds with a grin.

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say, raising my glass again.

“Cheers to that,” Devika agrees, and we all take another sip.

We’ve come a long way from our carefree days—now we’re wives, mothers, and businesswomen. Yet, sitting here together, it feels like nothing has changed at all. We’re still the same three best friends, only with fuller hearts and lives we wouldn’t trade for anything.

As I look around, a subtle movement catches my eye. Through the dim lighting, I see a tall silhouette in the shadowy corner leading to the washrooms. There’s something about his stance, the way he carries himself in that expensive black silk shirt and denim, that makes my breath hitch. I’d recognise that attitude anywhere—it’s uncannily similar to my husband, Ayaan.

But there’s only one other person who exudes that same magnetic aura, that unmistakable air of self-assurance—Raghav, his fraternal twin. And if it’s really him, what on earth is he doing here in Mumbai?

Before I can process my thoughts, he turns and moves toward the back exit.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to the girls, already rising from my seat.

“Where are you going?” Simran asks, concern creeping into her voice.

“To the washroom,” I lie, hurrying after the familiar figure.

The dimly lit corridor seems to stretch endlessly as I follow his path, pushing through the back exit door just seconds after it closes behind him. The cool night air hits my face, and I catch sight of three black sedans speeding away from the pub.

And then I see him—standing with his back to me, his posture tense, as though he’s just about to chase those cars.

“Raghav?” I call out, my voice uncertain but loud enough to reach him.

He freezes at the sound of my voice and slowly turns around to face me. For a moment, we simply stare at each other in surprise. It really is him. Here!! It’s been months since I last saw him, though my father-in-law had visited him just two months ago.

There is the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, but it’s gone in an instant, quickly by his usual stoic demeanour.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, with that edge of authority he carries effortlessly.

“I should be the one asking you that,” I shoot back, closing the distance between us. “What are you doing in Mumbai? Why didn’t you tell us you were here? And why haven’t you come home?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glances past me toward the pub.

“Where are your damn guards?” he snaps, his tone biting.

Right on cue, my security team bursts through the back exit, looking harried. Raghav’s expression darkens like a storm as he strides toward them, unleashing his full fury on them.

“Eleven seconds,” he growls, his voice low but menacing. “That’s all it takes for the enemy to strike. Eleven seconds late, and anything could’ve happened to her. Do you even understand the responsibility that comes with your job?”

The guards shift uncomfortably, looking down under his withering gaze.

I sigh, stepping between them. “Okay, okay, they’re here now, and I’m fine.” I fold my arms, trying to diffuse his anger.

“Don’t give me that ‘I am fine’ shit?” Raghav’s sharp eyes dart to me and then instead of backing down, he crosses his arms, towering over the guards with an unimpressed glare again. “If they can’t do their job properly, I’ll add a few of my own men to take care of it.”

I blink at him in surprise, then let out a nervous laugh. “You’re joking, right? You’d really put your guards on me?”

“Yes, because your present ones are clearly not capable of doing their job right,” he replies without hesitation, his voice completely serious.

I laugh again, brushing off the tension with humour. “Well, thanks, but no thanks. I already have Ayaan breathing down my neck and Vishnu’s military-level security measures tracking my every move. The last thing I need is you throwing more guards into the mix. By the way, I am here with Devika and Simran. I saw your silhouette and thought it was you, so I came out.”

He ignores me, glaring at the guards one last time before turning back to me.

“You shouldn’t take risks like this,” he says firmly.

“And you shouldn’t just disappear on us like this,” I retort, my frustration mounting. “Now, tell me. What are you doing in Mumbai?”

“Work,” he says curtly, his typical one-word response.

“Work,” I repeat sceptically as I narrow my eyes. “And you didn’t think to inform Ayaan or Paapa? They’ll be furious.”

“I’ll handle them,” he replies calmly.

“Fine. But you’re coming home with me now.”

Before he can respond, something catches my eye and I gasp in shock—he’s holding a high-heeled leather footwear in his hand. And it’s not just any footwear by the looks of it; it’s a designer piece, sleek black leather with an intricate gold buckle. It’s a Louboutin if I’m not mistaken. Definitely not something you’d find just lying around. And this expensive, elegant piece seems entirely out of place in Raghav’s hand.

“Whose… whose footwear is that?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. For the first time since I’ve known him, Raghav looks almost... flustered? “Raghav Kundra, were you here with someone? A woman?”

“Hold your horses,” he cuts in, quickly regaining his usual composure. “I’m not here with any woman. It’s just work.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Work? Okay. And the footwear?”

“Unrelated,” he says briskly, but I can see the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“You’re a terrible liar,” I say, shaking my head. “Who is she?”

“I’m flying back tonight,” he interrupts me, diverting the subject. “I have an important meeting at RK Estate tomorrow.”

“That’s not fair,” I protest. “Ayaan and Paapa won’t be happy. They will want to see you.”

“I’ll call them and explain,” he says dismissively, just as a sleek car pulls up to the back exit.

“Raghav, you can’t keep doing this,” I say, knowing I’m losing this argument. “You disappear for months and then show up without a word. And now you’re running off again?”

He doesn’t respond, and his silence only adds to my irritation. Something’s different about him tonight. He’s in a hurry. And wait… Is that a bruise on his neck… It looks fresh. Is it… a knife wound? It’s peeking out from under the collar of his black silk shirt.

I step closer, concern replacing my irritation.

“Raghav... what happened to your neck?” I ask softly, reaching out to examine it.

His hand shoots up, brushing over the fresh cut as if suddenly realising it’s visible. “It’s nothing,” he replies gruffly, stepping back.

“That’s not nothing,” I argue, worried. “It looks like a knife wound. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I said it’s nothing,” he repeats firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Without another word, he turns toward the sleek car, pulling up to the corner.

“Raghav, wait. At least come inside and say hello to Devika and Simran,” I try one last time.

“Next time,” he replies, already walking towards the car.

But then he stops and turns to my guards. His eyes harden as he commands them.

“Keep an eye on her. Don’t make me come back here to clean up your mess,” he orders them, his gaze locking on all of them.

The guards nod, visibly intimidated. He gets into the car without another word, the door shutting with a decisive bang. I wave goodbye, but my eyes are fixed on that heel he’s still holding as the car pulls away. I wonder whose footwear he had in his hand? And why did it matter enough for Raghav to carry it around? What is he hiding?

Raghav has always been a man of few words, but tonight, there had been cracks in his armour—glimpses of something he wasn’t saying. That bruise on his neck, the expensive footwear in his hand, and the urgency in his demeanour told me that something wasn’t right. Somewhere deep in my heart, I hope that this same mysterious heeled footwear might just be the first page of his story.

But knowing Raghav, getting to the truth will be like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. He’s made an art form of keeping people at arm’s length—staying just connected enough to fulfil the family obligations while never truly letting anyone in. Even now, just when I caught a glimpse of something more, he slipped away like a shadow in broad daylight. Huh!

I turn back toward the pub, knowing Simran and Devika will be worried, but my mind is still on that heel, on the wound, and the subtle change I saw in my usually unshakeable brother-in-law. I just hope whatever it is, it might finally bring him out of the dark shadows he’s been hiding in.