Chapter 11 #2
“Where’s Kushal?” he asked immediately, eyes scanning behind her.
“He had an emergency to attend to. Something urgent came up that he couldn’t ignore.”
Anant’s jaw tightened. “Now? Of all days?”
She raised a hand calmly. “He’ll be around soon, Anant. Don’t worry. He’s personally handling this matter. Your case is extremely important to us, and to him. He wouldn’t let anything worse happen than it already has.”
He stared at her a beat longer, then gave a short nod, seeming to relax a notch.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I just… I didn’t expect this mess. I didn’t even know those pictures still existed. And Noyonika, I didn’t think she’d ever speak to the press.”
Arundhati moved to her chair and sat, motioning for him to do the same. But her mind wasn’t on him now.
It was on what she’d just done.
She had covered for Kushal. Lied without blinking. Smoothed out the jagged edge of his absence. Not just as a colleague. Not just to protect a case. But because some part of her still behaved like a wife. His wife.
And that realisation shook her more than anything Anant was saying.
She looked at Anant and gave him a tight nod, listening to his excuses, his panic, his crumbling defence.
But inside, she was wondering—when did I become the one making excuses for him? When did I start defending the man I was waiting to get a divorce from?
*****************
The day had been no less than a storm. Ever since the scandal broke, Arundhati had been holding the line, handling Anant, calming the legal team, preparing the PR draft, and managing a brewing crisis that refused to settle.
She hadn’t had a moment to breathe, let alone check in with her uncle about Kushal.
By late evening, she had reached her limit. She marched straight down the hallway, and pushed open the door to Raj Verma’s cabin again.
He was on a call, mid-sentence. But he wrapped up quickly, sensing the urgency on her face, and placed the phone back on the receiver.
“I was just about to call you,” he said.
“Did you hear from him?”
Raj gave a half-smile. “Kushal’s at his penthouse.”
Arundhati blinked. “What?”
“At home,” Raj confirmed. “I spoke to the security desk at his building. His car’s parked downstairs. They said he hasn’t stepped out since he came in this morning.”
Her brows pulled together, the panic flaring again. “Is he okay? Did they say anything else?”
Raj nodded, trying to soothe her worry. “They saw him in the gym this morning. He even ordered lunch from outside. So, yes, he’s fine. Alive. Breathing. Clearly not in any problem.”
Arundhati let out a breath, but it wasn’t relief. Now that she knew he was fine, the panic twisted into anger.
While she had been dodging fire from the press, shielding a crumbling client, lying to save face, for his sake, he was at home, working out, eating takeout, and going ghost?
“I’m sending Akash there,” Raj added, glancing at his phone. “If Kushal won’t answer his calls, Akash will talk to him in person. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“No,” Arundhati said quickly. “Don’t send anyone.”
Raj raised a brow. “Why not?”
“I’ll go myself,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “Because Kushal’s vanishing act today is unprofessional. And no matter what his reason is, I’m not going to let him off easy. Not this time. Not just because he’s your golden boy.”
Raj studied her, perhaps seeing more in her expression than she wanted to show. He nodded slowly.
Without another word, she turned and stormed out to fetch her car keys from her cabin, and then headed for the elevator.
By now, she had already realised all this was his game.
He had been behind her all evening at the party yesterday, lingering, circling her, trying to speak, and she had ignored him.
And now, like the manipulative mastermind he could be, he’d pulled a stunt like this.
Vanishing. Going radio silent. Cutting himself off.
Forcing her to worry. Forcing her to come to him.
If this was his way of getting her to listen…Fine. So be it. But she wasn’t going to listen without giving him hell first.
****************
Kushal’s Penthouse – Aura Residences
Arundhati pulled into the underground parking of the Aura Residences.
The place hadn’t changed. It was still spotless, still silent, still exuding money in the most understated ways.
She eased the car into a familiar spot near the private elevator bank.
Her hands lingered on the wheel. For a moment, she didn’t move.
This used to be home. Her home after marriage.
Every corner of this place held pieces of her. Of them.
As she finally stepped out, the security staff at the parking entrance gave her a quick nod, one of them even smiled, as if no time had passed.
She returned it with a tight, polite expression and headed for the private elevator.
Her finger hovered over the digital pad, wondering if the passcode was still the same and the moment she typed in the four-digit code, she was shocked to realise Kushal hadn’t changed it.
It was still her birth year!
The lift began its silent ascent, and with every passing floor, her stomach coiled tighter.
As the elevator slid open onto the top floor’s private lobby, she stepped out slowly, heading for the door to the penthouse where another keypad glowed faintly. If Kushal hadn’t changed the elevator code, then he definitely hadn’t changed the door passcode either, which was her birthdate.
She punched in the code and the door creaked softly as she pushed it. She was in. The air inside smelled achingly familiar. Cedarwood. Warm linen. Him.
As she stepped in, every object called out to her. The leather couch where they used to argue. The painting she’d chosen. The coasters on the coffee table. The pillow covers she had carefully picked from her favourite store. Nothing had changed. Everything was exactly as it had been.
Her chest constricted as she moved deeper into the room, her eyes catching a half-finished glass of whiskey resting on the console by the sofa. And then, Kushal emerged from the study.
Black linen shirt, sleeves rolled up the way he always wore them, looking casual, effortless and aggravatingly handsome.
He had paired that black shirt with blue denim and was barefoot.
Like it was just another day in his life and not the day after a kiss that should’ve never happened.
Not the day he vanished from work, leaving her to clean up the mess.
He froze when he saw her, but just for a second.
“Welcome home,” he said.
The way he spoke made her feel as if she’d never left. As if this was just another ordinary evening, and she was simply walking back into her home… to her husband… after a long, exhausting day, with him there, waiting. Something deep in her chest gave way.
But the moment shattered just as quickly, and all that rage from the morning, the panic and the pressure, rushed back to her face.
“What the hell, Kushal?” she snapped. “Where were you today? You didn’t answer calls, didn’t show up to the office, and left Raj uncle and all of us guessing!”
Kushal didn’t say a word.
“How could you ghost on us?” she stormed forward.
“Do you have any idea what kind of mess exploded at the office? The media is back with another scandal against Anant. He showed up at the office asking for you, and I—I had to stand there covering for you like some pathetic fool! You didn’t even have the basic decency to send a message, Kushal. Who does that?”
While she ranted, Kushal walked to the whiskey glass resting near the couch.
“Kushal!”
Still nothing. He lifted it, took a swig, and turned his back to her, setting it down on the bar table like she hadn’t said a thing.
That infuriated her.
“Oh wow, you still are gonna do that? Drink? Walk away?” she followed him, her fury rising. “You really think you can disappear from work and then ignore the person who’s still stupid enough to clean up after you?”
He kept moving into the hallway.
“Kushal! I’m talking to you!”
She trailed after him into the next room.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Can you stop walking away from me and actually have this goddamn conversation?”
And suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks because the room he had led her into was not the lounge. Not the study. Not even the guest room.
It was their bedroom.
Her heart skipped as she took in the soft beige curtains, the faint scent of sandalwood, the perfectly made, spotless, cosy bed, the books she’d once left on the nightstand, the soft throw on the armchair.
And there it was. Her favourite candle, tucked neatly on the shelf, unopened.
She had bought it for them. For this room. For their nights.
It looked like nothing had changed.
And that was the problem. Everything had.
She shouldn’t have been here.
She hadn’t planned on entering that room.
All she wanted was a confrontation with him.
She wanted answers, accountability. She wanted to shout, demand what the hell Kushal was doing disappearing like that for a day.
But she didn’t want this. She hadn’t meant to follow him into this space. Their bedroom.
And suddenly she wasn’t just standing in a room. She was standing inside a memory. Their beautiful past flashed before her once again.