Chapter 23
“Do you have any idea how many coffees you’ve had since morning?” Kartik stormed into my office, his eyes narrowing as he took in the chaos. “Holy hell—You didn’t leave the office last night?”
“Mmhmm,” I murmured, my fingers flying across the keyboard without sparing him a glance.
“Are you out of your mind?” He planted both hands firmly on my desk, leaning forward.
“Don’t you have some actual work to do, Mr. Head of Operations, instead of bothering me?” I shot back, still focused on my screen.
“This is my job—telling you when you’re driving everyone, including me, insane.”
“Maybe I should rewrite your job description.” I muttered.
“Manav Oberoi, stop whatever it is you’re doing right now and go home.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why can’t you just live like a normal person for once?” He said firmly, closing my laptop and slumping into the chair across from me. “Manav… go home. Take some rest.”
“I’m fine,” I said, reaching for the coffee cup.
“You’re not touching another coffee until you go home and get some actual rest,” he said, crossing his arms and blocking my hand.
I shot Kartik a glare, my fingers still poised over the keyboard. “You sound like your wife right now.”
“I'm serious, Manav,” he continued. “You can't keep running on caffeine. It's unhealthy, even for someone as annoyingly perfect as you.”
“Annoyingly perfect? That's rich, coming from the guy who once spent a week obsessing over the perfect shade of blue for the company logo.”
He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. “Listen to me. Whatever is eating you up, you’re not going to solve it by turning into a zombie who lives in the office. Go. Home.”
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as Kartik's footsteps faded. My heart was racing, and it had nothing to do with the caffeine or the impending meeting.
I’ve been alone for so long—by choice, by design. And yet, the thought of that empty house, that empty bed, that empty kitchen without her… It’s unbearable.
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk to steady myself.
My head felt like it was caught in a vice, a dull throb pounding relentlessly against my temples.
Maybe Kartik was right. Maybe I did need rest, a break, something to snap me out of this downward spiral.
But even rest wouldn’t fix this. I slammed my laptop shut and pushed away from the desk.
Everything could wait. Except for the sound of her laugh, I couldn’t unhear.
____________
“Sir, I really can't let—” The receptionist's protests were drowned out by the chime of the elevator, and I stepped inside, cutting her off with a curt. “She’s expecting me.” Whether or not that was true didn’t matter. I had to see her.
Her studio was exactly her: elegant, serene, quietly powerful. A place you didn’t want to leave.
My footsteps slowed as I spotted her through the glass of a sunlit cabin.
Kiara. She was dancing, completely lost in the flow.
Her eyes were closed, her movements fluid and purposeful, as if the world outside didn’t exist. Her arms painted patterns in the air, and her feet glided effortlessly across the floor. She looked… divine.
I knocked softly on the glass, but she didn’t hear me— she was in her element, unreachable in the best way.
My hands slid into my pockets as I stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind me.
Leaning against the wall, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Each movement was a blend of grace and strength, her body telling a story without words.
For a moment, I forgot why I was here. All I could do was watch her, mesmerized. She was beautiful beyond words.
And then, without warning, her eyes opened, locking directly onto mine. For a second, she froze, her movements halting mid-flow as she blinked at me, startled.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, her breath slightly uneven, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face.
I pushed off the wall, taking a few steps toward her. “Is this how you write magic?”
“It’s meditation… works wonders.”
“Teach me,” I interrupted, stepping closer.
Her brows knitted together. “What?”
“This magic.”
“Manav Oberoi wants to meditate?” Her laugh bubbled out, light and incredulous. She crossed her arms, giving me that skeptical look that always made my pulse stutter. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as your attempts at cooking,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. I stepped onto the makeshift dance floor, standing across from her. She shook her head, muttering something under her breath about stubborn billionaires before moving closer.
“Okay, start by mirroring me,” she instructed, placing her hands loosely in front of her, her body swaying slightly to the music still playing in the background.
I tried to follow her lead, but my movements were stiff and clumsy compared to her effortless grace. She stifled a laugh, stepping closer.
“Relax…” She said, grabbing my hands. “You’re not closing a business deal. Loosen up.”
Her touch sent a jolt through me, but I did my best to relax, letting her guide me. Her hands moved mine gently, adjusting my stance. We were close now, her scent intoxicating, her warmth impossible to ignore.
“Like this,” she said softly, swaying her hips in rhythm with the music.
I followed her lead, letting her movements guide mine. It wasn’t long before we were moving together, the gap between us shrinking with every step.
“Not bad.”
I scoffed, spinning her unexpectedly, catching her off guard.
She laughed, stumbling slightly into my arms. Her hands rested lightly on my shoulders, and I could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through her fingertips. I leaned down, my forehead brushing hers. “You were right about one thing,” I murmured. “This does work wonders.”
Her hands tightened slightly on my shoulders. “You’re…surprisingly good at this.”
“I’m a fast learner,” I replied, my lips curving into a smile as I twirled her again, bringing her right back into my arms. This time, though, I didn’t let her go.
The rhythm of the music slowed, my hands settled at her waist, her fingers still brushing my shoulders, her gaze flickering between my eyes and my lips.
“Manav…” She started, but her voice faltered, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.
“Hmm?” I murmured, my head dipping closer to hers, our noses almost brushing.
“Why are you here?” Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.
“You weren’t answering my calls…” My words trailed off as I struggled to explain why I was standing in her studio, completely uninvited.
“I was in meetings all morning. I couldn’t check my phone—”
“Kiara,” I interrupted softly.
Her voice cracked as she looked at me, her brows knitting together. “What’s going on?”
The phone rang. I flinched. She turned, answered, but her eyes never left mine.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes lingering on mine as she spoke. Ending the call, she reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. “I have to go. I’ll see you at your place tonight.”
“I’ll come with you.”
We stepped into the lift, my hand still wrapped around hers, like I was afraid to let her go.
____________
“Dad…” Kiara’s voice trembled as we stepped into the cold, clinical confines of the meeting room.
Her father—Jay Randhawa, industrialist, billionaire, and stone-hearted patriarch—sat at the head of the table like a monarch presiding over a public execution. Two sharp-suited strangers—his legal hounds—flanked him like shadows, their faces void of any emotion.
“Please, take a seat, Kiara,” Mr. Randhawa said, his eyes never leaving the stack of documents before him.
Kiara sat cautiously, her eyes searching his face for some flicker of warmth. “Is everything okay, Dad?”
“Everything is fine,” he replied curtly. “Things are finally being handled. You’ve wrecked enough. Now, let’s settle the consequences.”
He gave a silent nod, and one of the lawyers pushed a thick file toward her.
Kiara’s fingers twitched. “What is this?”
“A formal declaration of your severance from this family,” Mr. Randhawa said coolly. “You will no longer carry the Randhawa name. You will be removed from the will, the trust, and all corporate interests. Legally, financially, and personally, you will cease to exist in this family.”
The words crashed into the room like a thunderclap. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay silent as Kiara’s entire body stiffened.
“Dad…” she whispered, her voice cracked like thin glass.
He looked up slowly, his gaze colder than steel. “Don’t call me that. I no longer have a daughter.”
She gasped, her eyes brimming. “This can’t be just about the wedding—”
Jay Randhawa slammed his palm on the table, the sound making everyone flinch.
“You think this is just about your wedding?” he hissed. “You humiliated the Randhawa legacy. Do you even know the cost of breaching a marriage alliance with the Singhanias? It wasn’t just billions lost—it was our reputation, our credibility in the industry.”
He leaned forward, his voice dripping venom. “You ran away like a coward, and now I’m cleaning up your mess. The only way to stabilize the company was to offer them something… irreparable.”
Kiara blinked, confusion overtaking her grief. “What do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed. “This disownment isn’t just punishment—it was part of the contractual clause in the revised deal with the Singhanias. They demanded a public and legal severance from you to restore their pride. They wouldn’t even renegotiate unless you were cut off completely.”
Her breath caught, eyes wide. “So… you’re trading me for business?”
“They wanted blood. I gave them your name.”
Her lips quivered, her hands numb as she reached for the pen.