Chapter 8
Verma and Associates Office
The next morning, Arundhati stepped into the sleek marble lobby of Verma & Associates.
Her left arm still ached from the biker’s careless brush the night before, making it almost stiff and useless.
She had balanced her files, phone, and coffee all in her right arm, trying to avoid straining the sore muscles any further.
Staff members greeted her as they passed, and she responded with nods and polite smiles, but didn’t stop. Her mind was already in work mode, willing her body to keep up.
As she approached the glass door of her cabin, she instinctively moved to push it open with her left arm. The moment her fingers met the handle, a sharp pain radiated through her shoulder. She gasped, recoiling slightly, and considered calling out for someone to help.
But before the words even formed on her lips, a strong arm slid past her shoulder and pushed the glass door open smoothly. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Kushal held the door open for her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at her. He just held the door open, waiting.
As she stepped inside and glanced sideways, her heart betrayed her just a little. She had to thank him for his gesture. But just as she turned to do that, he was already gone.
Gone before the words left her lips, disappearing down the hallway like he hadn’t just touched her day in the smallest, most intimate way by caring for her.
She fumed inwardly.
That was Kushal Nair for you, appearing when she least expected, doing things that made her heart stutter, and then leaving her to pick up the pieces of her composure. As if she had broken their marriage. As if she had betrayed the vows.
With her jaw clenched, she moved inside and dropped her things onto the desk. But a small blister pack of tablets, neatly placed beside her webtop, caught her eye.
Her fingers hovered over them.
Antacids?
She blinked in surprise. It was a habit, taking an antacid before any strong painkiller, or her acidity would spiral out of control.
After the accident last night, she had been relying on painkillers to manage the discomfort in her arm.
But in her rush to leave home this morning, she’d forgotten to pack her antacids.
She’d recalled it in her car in the morning.
So, who had brought these and placed them here on her desk? She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.
There were only two people who might’ve done this—her uncle or Kushal.
With suspicion narrowing in, she picked up the receiver and dialled her uncle’s extension.
“Uncle? Did you leave antacid tablets on my desk?”
“Antacids?” Raj Verma sounded puzzled. “Why? Are you unwell? What happened?”
So it wasn’t him.
Her heart sank and fluttered at the same time.
Because if it wasn’t her uncle, there was only one other person who could’ve known about her body’s reaction to strong medication without a buffer.
The same person who had witnessed the accident last night.
But the part that truly caught her breath was that he still remembered.
Before her logic could argue, she took the medicines and left her cabin with the blister pack still in hand.
But Kushal wasn’t in his room.
“He just went to Mr. Verma’s cabin,” the peon informed her.
Without thinking, she changed course.
She reached her uncle’s cabin and pushed the door open only to find both men mid-conversation. Both turned sharply at her sudden entrance.
“Sorry to interrupt, Uncle,” she said, quickly regaining her calm as she stepped in.
Kushal’s eyes locked onto hers immediately. He looked surprised just for a second as she walked straight to where he stood and held out the pack of tablets. “You didn’t have to bother.”
Handing them to him, she turned, ready to leave, but he reached out and caught her by the right arm, not harsh, but firm enough to make her stop and face him again.
“It’s just medicine, Arundhati. Why are you making it a big deal?”
She looked at his hand holding her and then up at him.
“Because I don’t want you walking into our court hearings the next time, acting like the devoted husband who still cares. Using things like this and manipulating the court, to make everyone believe that our marriage is salvageable.”
His eyes darkened, and she knew what that look of his meant. He didn’t like what she just said. So what? That doesn’t change anything.
“If a strip of antacids could save our marriage, I’d open a pharmacy just for you, right next to your cabin,” he retorted.
Her lips parted in disbelief.
“Even if you buy the entire pharmaceutical company for me, Kushal, I still wouldn’t want to continue this marriage.”
In a fit of frustration, she shoved him back with her left arm and gasped, stumbling slightly, as pain shot through her shoulder right then.
Before she could react, Kushal’s arms were around her. He steadied her, one hand on her waist, the other cradling her injured arm with care she didn’t expect. His brows pulled together in genuine concern as he began massaging the tender muscle gently.
“Easy,” he murmured. “You’ll make it worse.”
She should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve said something biting. But the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his tone, the way his thumb moved in soft, slow circles, it all made her heart thud traitorously in her chest. Again!
Raj stood up, frowning. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here? Is Aru hurt? When? How?”
Arundhati didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not when Kushal’s hand was still wrapped protectively around her arm… and not when she realised her uncle wasn’t the only one who’d seen her pain before she’d said a word.
“Nothing serious, Sir,” Kushal said. “She met a small accident last night while I was dropping her home. A biker brushed past and hit her arm.”
Raj’s eyes widened, his expression hardening. “Why wasn’t I informed? Did either of you get her checked? Aru, you should’ve called me immediately. We should have had you examined—”
Arundhati raised her hand, stopping her uncle gently.
“Uncle, I’m fine. I spoke to Dr. Deepa this morning.
She said it’s a minor soft tissue injury.
There’s no swelling. Just some shooting pain now and then.
She prescribed strong painkillers, and I’ve already placed the order. It’s all under control.”
Raj sighed, but nodded, clearly still uneasy. That was when Arundhati’s gaze drifted to the strip of antacid tablets she had handed back to Kushal moments ago.
“You called Dr. Deepa, didn’t you?” she asked Kushal.
His expression didn’t change, nor did he answer immediately. For a moment, he just stared at her.
“I didn’t realise I had to report to you if I called our family doctor,” he said evenly.
She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t have contacted her just to make small talk, Kushal.
You knew I would call her, and that’s how you knew she had written me these strong painkillers, which would need me to take these antacids too.
What was that? Another witness who can testify from your side in our divorce trial that you are a caring husband? ”
He smirked, but it lacked its usual arrogance this time. “I called her because I had a sudden mild ache in my chest last night. Thought it might be serious.”
Raj was immediately on alert. “What? Kushal? A chest ache?”
“She assured me I was fine,” Kushal immediately replied, observing Arundhati’s expressions. She didn’t flinch at all. As if she knew he was lying.
“You and a heartache?” she let out a mocked laugh. “A man who doesn’t have a heart?”
Raj sighed, exasperated. “As usual, you two have turned this room into a courtroom again. Can we not go one day without a sparring match?”
Kushal and Arundhati both looked away like schoolchildren chastised by a teacher.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten what day it is,” Raj continued, forcing a lighter tone into his voice. “Tonight’s my birthday party. The big sixty-five.”
Arundhati smiled at him, the expression softening her otherwise taut features. “How could I forget, uncle? Your tradition of midnight cake-cutting has been drilled into my memory since childhood. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Turning sixty-five but still looking fifty, Sir,” Kushal added with a polite smile. “Tell us, what do you want for your birthday?”
Raj gave them both a meaningful look. “I know what I want. But I doubt either of you will give it to me.”
Kushal and Arundhati stiffened simultaneously. That unspoken wish lingered in the silence between them. The one thing Raj Verma had always wanted was for his two most trusted people to find their way back to each other. But some things were easier said than done.
“So, I’ll settle for something else,” Raj said at last. “Tonight, I don’t want arguments. No bitterness. Just peace, a few smiles, and maybe being cordial with each other. Please?”
Arundhati nodded. “You have my word. I’ll behave.”
But then she turned to Kushal. “Though I can’t promise that for your golden boy.”
Kushal’s lips curved. “The golden boy’s been standing by your uncle since the day he joined this firm. Even when his own blood…” his eyes flicked toward her, “…chose to oppose him.”
The barb wasn’t subtle.
“Yes, and you’ve always agreed with everything he said. So much so, that when he proposed his niece’s hand to you for marriage, you didn’t take a single day to say yes, even when you were planning to propose to someone else at that time. To Kamya Bakshi!”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, the room fell into a stunned silence.
“Arundhati…enough,” Raj said, more of a plea than a reprimand.
But Kushal said nothing. There was no smirk on his face this time. No sardonic quip dancing at the edge of his lips. Just a silent, burning storm before he turned around.