Chapter 10
Raj Verma’s Villa, Delhi – Birthday Party
When Arundhati descended the grand staircase, heads turned at her graceful presence. Kushal now stood by the bar, holding a glass of scotch. His gaze locked on her as if the rest of the world had melted away.
Their eyes met for a brief second, but she looked away first, pretending to scan the guests.
But it didn’t stop there.
A few minutes later, while she politely smiled at a guest, she felt that familiar pull again.
Her eyes betrayed her, flickering back toward the bar where Kushal stood, his scotch now forgotten in his hand, his entire attention riveted to her.
His stare was no longer mocking, no longer arrogant.
It was deeper and genuine. As if he was lowering his guard for her.
Arundhati straightened her shoulders and quickly turned her attention to someone else, but not before catching the way his mouth curved into a regretful smirk.
She moved around the party, exchanging pleasantries, feeling his gaze trailing her, like a secret touch only she could sense. Even when she wasn’t looking, she knew. Kushal’s presence wasn’t easy to ignore. And tonight, it was impossible.
And the strange thing was, it reminded her of the first time they had met like this, at Verma & Associates’ 20th Anniversary Celebration.
Even then, their eyes had found each other across a crowd, speaking volumes where words had failed.
Two strangers caught in a magnetic pull, too stubborn to approach, too affected to look away.
History was repeating itself tonight, but with far more complicated emotions layered between them.
Her mind drifted back to what had happened upstairs.
The way Kushal had helped her with her saree, the way he had said he wanted to talk.
She knew. It had to be about Kamya. About the past. Only because once again, today, she had reminded him how wrong he had been, how his choices, his ambitions, had driven them here, on opposite sides of their divorce battle.
Minutes later, a server approached Arundhati with a folded tissue. She raised an eyebrow but accepted it.
As she unfolded the tissue, she realised it was Kushal’s unmistakable handwriting:
“I helped you wear that saree. I deserve at least a thank you. But since I know you won’t part those precious lips to say those two beautiful words, let your ears do the work instead. Just listen to what I have to say.”
Her gaze snapped across the room, and sure enough, Kushal stood there watching, sipping his drink, waiting. She crumpled the tissue deliberately and tore it into pieces without breaking eye contact. Although he raised his glass in mock salute, taking another slow sip, she could see he was seething.
He could make anyone bend, but not her. She was as stubborn as a flame that refused to go out.
Cake-cutting time arrived. Everyone gathered around Raj Verma, who cut the cake and fed Arundhati the first bite, hugging her tightly. She fed him back, laughing warmly, returning the hug.
Then Raj turned to Kushal, feeding him a piece as well.
Soon, music buzzed around them, and Raj pulled Arundhati onto the dance floor. She laughed, spinning lightly with her uncle. But even in the twirls and graceful moves, her eyes flickered back to Kushal, who leaned against a pillar, glass of scotch in hand, his gaze shadowing her every movement.
And then it happened.
One of her younger cousins, a tall, pretty girl visiting from Bangalore, made her way to Kushal with a hopeful smile, asking him for a dance. Arundhati, still dancing with Raj, stiffened. Unknowingly, she held her breath, curious and tense without understanding why.
Would he accept?
Would he take her cousin’s hand, step into the crowd, and sway with her?
Kushal didn’t even hesitate. He politely declined, motioning toward Akash, the junior lawyers at Verma & Associates, and paired her cousin with him instead. She didn’t mind, laughing it off, but Arundhati realised only then how tightly she’d been gripping her uncle’s hand during the dance.
Only when Kushal refused did she let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
Raj noticed immediately.
“It’s bad manners to ignore your dance partner,” he teased, gently twirling her around again.
Arundhati flushed and tried to look anywhere but at her uncle.
“I wasn’t,” she said quickly.
Raj chuckled, easily reading her. “Unless you want to change partners?”
“No. I don’t want to dance with Kushal,” she muttered under her breath, but it was too late. Raj had already heard it.
“So, it was Kushal you were busy watching while ignoring me?” Raj said, feigning hurt with a laugh.
Arundhati was so embarrassed she could barely meet his eyes.
He smiled kindly and added, “You both have so much ego, Aru, you’re really making this harder for each other.”
She pressed her lips together, stubbornness flaring back to life. “I have every right to keep my distance from him.”
Raj opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, another cousin dragged him away for a dance with her, leaving Arundhati free again—free to think, free to feel, and most annoyingly, free to glance once more toward the shadows where Kushal lingered.
And her heart jumped.
Because even now, he wasn’t looking at anyone else.
He was still looking at her.
She had barely managed to calm her racing heart when the server approached her again, discreetly slipping another folded tissue into her hand.
She didn’t need to guess. She knew it was him.
Reluctantly, she unfolded it.
“Waiting for you at the pool. Don’t make me wait, Aru.”
Another note with full of arrogance. ‘Don’t make me wait, Aru!’ Seriously? She scanned the spot again where seconds ago he was standing, but now he wasn’t there. He was gone.
Her first instinct was to crumple the tissue again and throw it away.
Her second, to march straight to the pool and give him a piece of her mind.
But she wouldn’t fall into Kushal Nair’s trap again.
She had heard enough of his charming lies and clever manipulations once upon a time. She wouldn’t make the same mistake now.
She crumpled the tissue and discarded it before joining a circle of chatting women instead and forced herself to engage in polite conversation. Talking about the party, laughing at something mildly funny and pretending like she wasn’t burning alive inside.
Fifteen minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow.
And then suddenly, the woman she was talking to grew distracted. Their eyes widened, their smiles faltered, and a few even blushed as if something, or someone, had walked straight out of a forbidden fantasy.
Arundhati turned slowly and found Kushal standing barely two steps away. His eyes. God, those stormy eyes locked onto hers with so much intensity that her heart skipped a few beats.
Without a word, he stepped forward, caught her wrist firmly, and faced the stunned women around her.
“Excuse us,” he said smoothly.
Before she could even blink, he was dragging her through the crowd. She almost struggled to keep up as they passed laughing guests, clinking glasses, but no one dared to stop them. There was something about Kushal’s grip that warned the world to stay out of his way.
Halfway down a dim hallway that led toward the garden and pool area, she dug her heels in.
“Kushal,” she hissed, yanking her hand free from his grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He turned to face her sharply, his face mere inches from hers.
“I’m just borrowing a little of your time and attention,” he replied. “Because clearly, asking politely wasn’t working. You were ignoring me, Arundhati. What choice did you leave me except to drag you out before the whole damn party?”
She glared at him, her heart pounding at both his words and their infuriating closeness.
“I had every right to ignore you!” she snapped. “And what is this new ‘talk to me’ drama now?
He stared at her for a long, loaded beat, his chest rising and falling.
“You call this drama? You, running away from a conversation we should have had long ago, that’s drama, Arundhati?”
“There’s nothing left to say.” She shook her head, furious and breathless.
“There’s everything left to say,” he countered, giving a harsh laugh. “You just don’t want to hear it because you’re scared it might not fit the story you’ve written about me in your head.”
Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs as he stepped closer, invading her space again. His nearness was suffocating, intoxicating.
“Let go of this stubbornness for one damn minute, Aru,” he said, softer now, almost pleading. “Please.”
The ‘please’ broke something inside her.
Not because of what it meant. But because of who it came from.
Kushal Nair didn’t beg.
He fought. He argued. He twisted logic until you didn’t know where the truth ended and the lies began.
But he didn’t say please.
And certainly not to her.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to touch her but was forcing himself not to.
Before she could speak, before she could decide whether to snap or surrender, voices rang out from the other side of the garden.
Her cousins.
“There you are!” one of them called, breathless. “Arundhati, Uncle Raj is asking for you. He’s on his fourth peg already. You know how emotional he gets when he drinks too much. You better come stop him before he starts blabbering.”
The others giggled.
Arundhati nodded stiffly. “I’m coming,” she said.
The group retreated, leaving her standing there alone with Kushal again. Before she could take a full step away, Kushal caught her wrist again, enough to make her stop.
“Come back here when you’re done,” he said lowly, his thumb brushing against the rapid pulse at her wrist.
She yanked her hand free sharply. “I’m never coming back to you, Kushal,” she said. “Not here. Not anywhere. Stop waiting.”
She didn’t look back this time as she walked away.