Chapter 7
Arundhati’s Apartment – Same Night
Arundhati sat on the couch, cradling a mug of tea between her hands, her arm still faintly throbbing from the motorbike incident earlier that night.
The ache was dull but persistent, just like the memory of Kushal’s hand gently holding hers, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of her upper arm as he checked for bruises.
That fleeting moment that was so unexpectedly intimate refused to leave her mind.
She’d tossed and turned for hours after returning from the club, every attempt at sleep hijacked by that man’s face. The way he’d spoken, the concern in his eyes masked by sarcasm, it all pulsed beneath her skin.
To distract herself, she had brewed chamomile tea and shuffled to the living room, playing a soft, old tune on her speaker.
But as the music played, a familiar piano chord unfurled a memory she had locked away—the first time she had met Kushal Nair at a party of Verma and Associates one and a half years ago. The night everything shifted.
Verma Residence, Delhi – Late Afternoon (One and A Half Years Ago)
Arundhati dropped her travel bag by the foot of the couch and sank into it with a groan, pulling off her sandals with a sigh.
The flight from Bangalore had been exhausting, not so much physically as mentally.
Her uncle had sounded unusually serious on the phone, using the word ‘Come home urgently’ like punctuation.
“Uncle? I am home.” She called out from the drawing room.
Raj Verma appeared from his study, dressed in a crisp white kurta, looking every bit the powerful patriarch he was in the legal world.
“Uncle?” she rushed to him and then hugged him. “Is everything alright? Why did you call me so urgently from Bangalore?”
“I’m glad you came, Aru,” he said, settling her on the couch and then sitting beside her. “I wanted to talk to you in person.”
She frowned. “Oh. But on the phone, you sounded like the sky was falling. What’s this about?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the brass tray on the coffee table and poured her a glass of fresh nimbu pani, handing it to her like he used to when she was a child.
“You’ve been working hard,” he said. “At that firm in Bangalore.”
She nodded, sipping. “I like it. The work is challenging, and you know I wanted to make my own place, without leaning on your name.”
“I know,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve always respected that about you. But…”
She looked up, the pause catching her attention. “But?”
He leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I called you here to talk about your future.”
Her brows knit. “My future in what sense?”
“In the sense of marriage.”
Arundhati blinked. “What?”
“I’ve found someone I think you should meet.”
She straightened in her seat, almost snapping. “Wait, you found someone? Like a groom?”
Raj nodded slowly, unbothered by the storm gathering on her face. “He’s not just someone. He’s special. And I believe… he could be a great partner for you.”
“Uncle…” she exhaled. “I didn’t come here for a matchmaking session. I came because you said there was something urgent.”
“This is urgent, Aru,” he said quietly. “You’ve crossed thirty.
You’ve built a good career, but you’ve shut yourself off from anything personal.
And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been dodging every proposal and distraction.
You’re married to your case files. You pour everything into your work, but there’s more to life. ”
She stood up. “So you thought—what? That I’m running out of time, and you’ll just… slot someone in?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I thought that maybe, since you haven’t found someone, I could help. You’re my responsibility. I raised you like my own daughter. And now, when I see someone I trust, someone who is everything I ever wanted in a man for you, I couldn’t ignore it.”
She turned to him, arms folded. “Who is he?”
A small smile returned to Raj’s face. “Kushal Nair.”
The name was familiar in her legal circle, too, but she was sure she hadn’t met him before.
“He’s been with Verma and Associates for four years now,” Raj continued.
“And in the three years, he’s been the architect of every major legal win we’ve had.
He’s sharp, driven, grounded. Doesn’t chase fame or power.
Just justice. But still, it all comes to him naturally. He’s such a magnet in our legal world.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So basically, he is your golden boy.”
“Exactly,” he said, not denying it. “He’s the reason Verma he should impress me if he wants me to say a Yes.”
She winked at her uncle and then climbed the stairs to the guest room where her things had been kept.
“He’s sexy enough in every way, Aru. You’ll see that for yourself tonight.” Raj continued behind her.
Arundhati continued heading to her room, wondering who this man was that her uncle thought was good enough for her. What made him so extraordinary?
****************
Verma & Associates 20th Anniversary Party
The party was all glitter, grace and endless champagne.
Fairy lights twinkled in the lawn like stars brought down to witness twenty years of Raj Verma’s empire—Verma & Associates.
Arundhati stood near the open bar, her fingers curling loosely around the stem of a wine glass she hadn’t really sipped from.
She adjusted the strap of her midnight-blue cocktail gown.
It was a sleek, off-shoulder piece that hugged her curves with a quiet, confident grace.
Her long hair was styled in soft waves that spilt over one shoulder, and her makeup was flawless.
Smoky eyes, matte lips, and a highlighter that kissed her cheekbones just right.
A pair of delicate sapphire drop earrings added the only glitter she needed. She wore no necklace, letting her collarbones and poise speak louder than jewellery ever could.
And yet, she was restlessly distracted.
She wasn’t used to parties, the introductions, the stares. Especially not when her uncle had just dropped a bomb on her named ‘Kushal Nair.’
Although she’d agreed to meet him tonight, it wasn’t because she was interested but because her curiosity was killing her. Who was this “golden boy” that her uncle spoke of like a legend?
Inside the party, every time her uncle introduced her to someone, she wondered—Is this Kushal? But it never was. Each time she shook a hand and heard a different name, her intrigue sharpened.
Noticing her expression, Raj chuckled. “You look quite eager to meet him.”
“I’m just curious if he lives up to the hype,” she muttered, sipping her drink.
“He’s always late to parties. But ahead in everything else,” Raj said proudly. Then, his eyes lit up. “Ah. There he is. My boy—Kushal!”
She turned, and time slowed.
Kushal Nair entered the party like he owned it.
Tall, suited in charcoal grey that complemented his dusky skin, his black hair slightly tousled, he moved with unhurried confidence.
He stopped to greet people, shake hands, and offer smiles.
But when his eyes found hers, his stride faltered, just slightly, but enough for her to notice.
His eyes didn’t just glance at her. They lingered. Traced. Assessed. Admired. His gaze dropped briefly to her collarbone, then returned to meet her eyes with a flicker of interest. He looked at her like he was figuring her out, too, before reaching them.
He might be handsome, but she didn’t fall for charm wrapped in expensive tailoring. Arundhati stood tall, shoulders back, chin up, unwilling to let his intense gaze ruffle her as he greeted Raj Verma with a genuine smile.
“Sir. Congratulations. Two decades of brilliance. That’s something.”
“Only because of talents like you,” Raj beamed, clapping him on the back. “You’re late.”
Kushal shrugged. “Blame Delhi traffic or the fact that I don’t like making an entrance without some drama.”
Arundhati lifted an eyebrow. “You must be really consistent at being late, then. And overly dramatic for making a late entry at parties. Do you throw rose petals too, or just the occasional slow walk?”
His gaze flicked to her, intrigued. “Only when the audience includes the famous anti-nepotism niece I’ve heard so much about.”
She stiffened ever so slightly. “Excuse me?”