Chapter 9
Raj Verma’s Villa, Delhi – Birthday Party
By the time Arundhati reached her uncle’s villa, the celebration was already alive with soft music, warm lights, and a growing cluster of guests exchanging pleasantries over glasses of wine. The large garden had been tastefully decorated with elegant fairy lights.
She offered polite smiles and nods to a few familiar faces as she moved through the crowd, heading straight for her uncle.
Raj Verma stood near the bar area, talking animatedly with a group of old friends. The moment his eyes landed on her, his entire face lit up. Breaking away from the conversation, he came to her and pulled her into a warm, protective hug.
“You’re late,” he murmured with gentle affection. “I was beginning to think you forgot your old uncle’s big day party tonight.”
She smiled and pulled back. “I can never forget. And sorry for coming late. I came straight from the office. A client meeting ran longer than expected, and then there were some last-minute filings to submit before the court reopened tomorrow.”
Raj raised a brow. “And I see you didn’t get time to change either?”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I have a couple of dresses upstairs in my room. Hopefully, one of them still fits. Give me ten minutes. I’ll be quick.”
Raj nodded. “Go on. Freshen up. I’ll hold the fort.”
But as she turned to head up the staircase, her eyes instinctively swept across the room, scanning the faces of the guests. It was subtle, but not enough to escape Raj’s notice.
“The one you’re looking for isn’t here.”
She froze mid-step. “I wasn’t looking for anyone.”
He chuckled softly. “Aru, I may not be your father by blood, but I know you well enough to read those eyes. You were searching for him.”
“I wasn’t searching for Kushal, Uncle.”
Raj folded his arms across his chest. “Is that so? Well, in any case, he’s not coming to the party tonight.”
Her steps faltered. He wasn’t coming? That caught her off guard.
“What do you mean he’s not coming? He said this morning he would. Did you speak to him?”
Raj chuckled.
“Why do you sound so concerned? Shouldn’t you be glad the one person who annoys you endlessly won’t be around to ruin your evening?”
Arundhati rolled her eyes.
“I don’t care if he comes here or not. I just wanted to make sure you’re not hurt. He’s your golden boy. I know how much you adore him, and I also know you’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t show up tonight. That’s all.”
Raj patted her shoulder affectionately. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Aru. Especially not to me.”
Caught, she looked down, wondering what excuse to give further, but before she could defend herself again, Raj leaned in conspiratorially.
“He’s on his way. I was just pulling your leg.”
“Uncle! That’s not funny. Don’t use his name to tease me. Please.”
He laughed, delighted at her flustered reaction.
Shaking her head, Arundhati sighed, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be down soon, and my gift is in the car. I’ll get it once I am ready.”
“Take your time,” he replied, watching her fondly as she turned and made her way up the stairs, disappearing into the soft glow of the upper hallway.
***************
Kushal’s Penthouse
Kushal stood before the full-length mirror, sliding on his silver watch. He wore a black three-piece suit tonight, with a deep midnight blue tie that matched the storm in his eyes.
Although ready to leave for the party tonight, he felt... distracted. Restless.
His eyes flicked to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the opposite high-rise. The same apartment. The same couple.
They were there again.
The man stood on the balcony, speaking into his phone.
Seconds later, the woman appeared, in a satin nightdress.
She wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed the slope of his back.
The man turned, dropped his phone to return her kiss, right there, under the dim golden lights of their balcony, wrapped in a bubble of intimacy.
Kushal clenched his jaw.
Damn them.
Damn that image.
It was the fourth time this week he’d caught himself watching them, envying what he didn’t even believe in anymore.
He grabbed the remote and clicked the blinds shut, wiping the picture from view. But not from his mind.
This had to stop.
Haunted by the thoughts of what happened in the office today between him and Arundhati, he walked out, keys in hand, and drove straight to Raj Verma’s villa.
Tonight, he would speak to her, try, at the very least, to untangle some of the knots they’d left unresolved for far too long.
Knots that could’ve been eased, if only she hadn’t shut him out before he ever had a chance to make it right.
****************
Raj Verma’s Villa, Delhi – Birthday Party
Kushal walked in, clutching a polished wooden box under his arm, which had a 40-year-old bottle of rare and smoky Scotch Whiskey GlenDronach, something Raj Verma had once casually mentioned was on his ‘Unreachable Wishlist.’
Raj spotted him the moment he entered and smiled like a man greeting his own blood.
“Kushal!” the older man beamed. “You made it.”
Kushal stepped forward, bent slightly to touch Raj’s feet, but the elder immediately pulled him up.
“No need for that,” Raj said gruffly. “My blessings have always been with you.”
“This isn’t just your birthday, sir,” Kushal replied, handing over the gift box. “It’s my father-in-law’s, too. And that deserves my respect.”
Raj blinked, touched, and smiled wider as he opened the box and saw the wine.
“Is this what I think it is?” Raj’s voice cracked in wonder. “Oh my God, you didn’t…this bottle... It’s impossible to find.”
“Not impossible,” Kushal said with a faint smile, “Just expensive.”
Raj let out a heartfelt laugh. “I’m saving this. I’ll only open it when we celebrate together. Not without you, my boy.”
He pulled Kushal into a firm hug.
Kushal hugged him back, because in Raj Verma, he had always found something he never had growing up. A guiding voice. A steady presence. The man who gave him the first real chance to prove himself. A family.
His eyes scanned the room subtly over Raj’s shoulder, looking for Arundhati, but couldn’t find her. Maybe she was upstairs.
**************
Arundhati stood by the dresser, biting down on her lower lip, trying to suppress the rising frustration bubbling in her chest. The dull throb in her left arm had returned with a vengeance, turning the simple task of draping a saree into an exhausting ordeal.
Her wardrobe at the villa hadn’t been of much help either.
Most of the party outfits she had here now hung too loose on her, courtesy of the weight she’d unintentionally shed over the past few months.
The only saving grace was this designer saree, paired with a blouse that, thankfully, still fit her perfectly.
The pleats were half done, the fabric slipping between her fingers, her movements stilted and one-handed. It was becoming clear she wasn’t going to be able to manage draping the saree on her own.
With an irritated sigh, Arundhati picked up her phone and quickly dialled her uncle’s number.
“Uncle, could you send Sudha Aunty to my room? I need a little help here.”
“Of course, beta. I’ll send her right away,” Raj Verma replied warmly, all while navigating through the crowd in the living room, his eyes scanning for Sudha among the guests.
But she was nowhere in sight, and the rest of the staff were either attending to guests or tied up with last-minute arrangements.
Just then, Kushal stepped beside him with a glass of scotch in hand.
“You look like you’re about to dispatch a search party,” he said coolly. “Looking for someone?”
Raj exhaled. “Arundhati needs a hand upstairs. But everyone’s busy here, and I don’t see Sudha anywhere.”
Kushal took another sip, his gaze flicking toward the staircase, something shifting in his eyes as he realised this was the moment he needed. With her!
“I’ll go,” he offered, casually but firmly.
Raj looked up, surprised, and oddly relieved. “Will you? That’s very thoughtful of you, beta. Thank you. Please bring her down soon. Everyone is waiting for the cake cutting.”
Without another word, Kushal set his glass down, straightened his jacket, and headed for the stairs.
When he knocked on the door, Arundhati opened it, expecting Sudha Aunty. Without glancing, she turned and walked back into the room.
“Close the door, please. And I need your help with this drape… just pull the pleats tight and hook it in. My arm isn’t cooperating,” she said, her voice slightly breathless, preoccupied with securing the half-draped saree that threatened to slide off her torso.
When silence answered her, she turned and froze, seeing Kushal there, standing at the doorframe, his eyes unapologetically trailing the length of her form.
From the way her blouse hugged her curves to the delicate, exposed dip of her neckline. Her saree hung loosely around her waist, not yet pleated or pinned, the fabric barely clutched to her chest. She clutched it tighter instinctively, cheeks colouring in sharp embarrassment.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, flustered.
“You needed help,” he said, coming out of his trance and in an infuriatingly soft tone. “I heard.”
“I asked Uncle to send the Sudha aunty,” she said through gritted teeth.
He shrugged, stepping further inside with that trademark arrogance of his. “She’s busy. I’m here. I can help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He still shut the door with a soft click, locking it behind him. The action wasn’t loud, but it echoed in the heavy silence between them.
“Everyone’s waiting downstairs. Cake-cutting’s due. You are delaying this. We promised Raj Uncle we wouldn’t ruin tonight.”
“And you think me letting you drape my saree won’t ruin it?” she growled.
He gave a half-smile, the kind that always managed to get under her skin. “What’s so wrong about it? I’m not getting you undressed, but helping you dress up. Consider it professional courtesy.”