The Third Thing
Jai
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This report was a blunder.
‘Ananya, this—’
A sharp pain cut through me, leaving me breathless and constricted.
‘Priya, sir,’ the temp corrected me.
Ananya was gone. But she haunted me at work, in my home and even in my fucking dreams. Her absence clung like smoke in a sealed room, turning everything she touched into a reminder of what I’d lost.
‘All I wanted was a simple, legible summary,’ I snapped. ‘But you’re incapable of producing error-free work.’
‘I … I’m sorry,’ she stuttered.
‘Apologies don’t fix incompetence. This was the second time. You’re done.’
‘But … but …’
I turned to my computer, emailing HR to get me a replacement.
Footsteps faded, and the door opened, then swung shut.
I sighed. My car broke down on the way to work this morning. And now, I had to fire my fourth assistant in three days.
Naniji used to say bad things came in threes. I wasn’t superstitious by any means, but a gnawing feeling creeping up the back of my head told me the third was close.
I felt on edge throughout the day. After a tedious meeting with finance, my phone rang. Dad.
I had been avoiding him and Ayaan. I didn’t trust myself not to explode and tell them exactly what Rekha did. I hadn’t told them because a part of me still wanted to maintain peace within the family. It was hard since we worked at the same company, but not impossible.
The office door slammed open. Dad strode in, looking pissed. ‘Why are you not answering your phone?’
‘I was busy.’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, his voice clipped. ‘Look at Lehenga Bazaar’s website.’
‘What did they do now?’ I muttered as I googled it.
I was tired of the bullshit they kept trying to pull. I thought after the lawsuit, they would learn their lesson and stop. They— fuck.
My jaw tightened.
A full-length image of a model draped in handwoven silk in vibrant colours dominated the screen. The silk was unmistakably close to the kauseya weave – our weave. The Mahalas’ weave. The slight tweaks were just enough to pass as ‘inspired’.
The headline read ‘Introducing Eternal Weaves: A Limited Heritage-Inspired Silk Collection’. Below it was a timer taunting me, counting down one month.
I went to the page displaying the collection preview. My blood ran cold. Heavily inspired versions of our plans. Our work. They stole everything.
I swiped a hand over my mouth. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘Jai,’ Dad ground out, low and hard. ‘We have spent crores on this line. Crores.’
‘I know.’
‘The board has called for an emergency meeting. While I try to put out the fire, you will clean up your mess. I want this gone, Jai, and I want it gone yesterday.’
He turned around and stormed out.
My fist slammed on the desk.
My breath came in shallow bursts. My blood pounded in my ears. My insides burned with fury, helplessness and disbelief – all tangled together.
I could imagine it. The launch. The press raving. Influencers swooning. The Mahala family forgotten. Their work, our hard work … claimed by fucking Lehenga Bazaar.
How could they – anyone – do this? Everything we built, dreamed of … it was all on a one-month countdown to destruction.
Naniji’s voice echoed in my head: bad things come in threes.
The third had arrived. And it was catastrophic.
Every plan, every option, every counterattack raced through my mind at an impossible speed, colliding with streams of panic and a rage that threatened to combust.
Sharanji’s words echoed in my ear. ‘If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t even have dreamed of any of this. We would have spent our entire lives in our little Bhagalpur. But you have transformed our lives. Thank you.’
I had promised him that the world would know them and the kauseya weave. That they would be able to make a comfortable living out of it. Build a legacy they could pass on to future generations. I didn’t know if I could keep my word now.
Dadaji wanted to recognise and honour artisans for their work.
But in the world of fashion, ideas were owned by the ones who released them first. We couldn’t launch kauseya without the world thinking we copied Lehenga Bazaar.
Even if we went ahead with the plan, the Mahalas’ legacy would always be overshadowed by Lehenga Bazaar’s Eternal Weave.
The money HoA invested in training the karigars, the capital spent on increasing production capacity, logistics, designs … all down the drain.
I failed them all. Because someone leaked our plans to them.
Ananya. Rekha.
My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
‘I never gave her anything important. Not about the new line. Because you asked me not to.’ Her voice seemed to coil through me, cinching my insides.
She lied to me. Again.
She was one of the few people who had access to all the details early enough for Lehenga Bazaar to launch an entire collection within a month. Out of them all, she was the only untrustworthy one.
She gave everything to Rekha. And Rekha did this.
My throat tightened with a burning edge. I refused to let them win. I had to regain control. And I had no time to waste.
I called our lawyer, Pritesh, and set a meeting. Then, I worked on a plan for damage control and our next actionable steps.
Harish uncle called, but I let it go to voicemail. I didn’t need pity, only a solution. He texted me, asking me to call him. I would, but now wasn’t the time.
A few hours had passed by the time I started feeling like I had some semblance of an idea on how to sort out this fiasco. Finally, Pritesh showed up. By the time I finished telling him everything, it was late in the evening.
He rubbed his chin. ‘Kauseya isn’t a patented technique. Courts consider fashion iterative. The heritage-inspired spin makes their designs fall under influence and inspiration, not direct copying. Proving plagiarism is going to be tricky.’
‘Tricky, not impossible,’ I said. ‘Does it mean we have a case?’
‘We have proof of the kauseya weave being a Mahala family tradition dating back centuries. We also have proof that you’ve been working on this with them for months.
Lehenga Bazaar has been a thorn in our side for years.
And after what they did last time, we might be able to establish a pattern of them trying to sabotage and steal your work,’ he said.
‘Don’t get me wrong, winning this case is still a long shot, but we have a chance. ’
‘That’s all I need.’
‘Great. Now, how about a chai and some snacks? And where’s Vikram? He was—’
‘I’m sorry, Pritesh,’ I said, cutting him off before he devolved into useless chit-chat. ‘But as you know, I have a crisis on hand. We might have to cut this meeting short.’
‘Of course.’ He rose and shook my hand. ‘Best of luck.’
I leaned back in my chair and watched the door close behind him. Weariness settled on my shoulders. Luck was something that hadn’t been on my side for a while now. Everything I touched seemed to crumble into ashes.
My phone rang. Sharan Mahala.
Dread slithered up my spine as I answered.
‘Jai sahab, what happened? What did you do?’ His voice trembled with a mix of anger and incredulity.
‘Please believe me,’ I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. ‘I had nothing to do with this. I’m doing everything I can to fix it. Lehenga Bazaar will pay for stealing our work. They—’
‘Our? It’s my family’s legacy,’ he cut in sharply. ‘Centuries of blood and sweat. And they stole it. We trusted you. How could you let this happen?’
‘I have a plan to fix it. I have also talked to my lawyer, and we’re suing them. I promise you that I will not let them get away with this. Your legacy will remain yours.’
‘Will you, Jai sahab?’ he demanded. ‘You came to us. You promised us recognition and money. You gave us hope. And this is what we get? I would rather kauseya die than live with someone else’s name on it.’
I swallowed hard. ‘I won’t fail you. I will make this right.’
Fuck peace in the family. I was going to give Rekha a piece of my mind. And Dad and Ayaan needed to know what she’d done.
It was almost eight in the evening, which meant they must have returned home.
So, that’s exactly where I went.
I opened my wallet to pay the cab driver and stopped short.
Pressing my lips together, I handed him a five-hundred-rupee note and walked towards the house, my eyes fixed on the Polaroid picture.
Ananya smiled back at me, beautiful and treacherous. She’d stolen my heart and broken it so thoroughly that fixing it was an impossible task. I couldn’t stand the thought of her, and yet, each day without her felt like a punishment.
I slapped the wallet shut and stuffed it in my pocket before ringing the doorbell.
Sarita aunty opened the door and smiled instantly. ‘Jai, come in.’
I gave her a nod and walked past without a word.
Rekha, Dad and Ayaan were seated in the dining room, waiting for dinner to be served.
‘Jai, sit. Have dinner with us,’ Dad said. ‘We need to talk.’
‘I agree,’ I said, my voice clipped, pulling out a chair. ‘So, let’s get straight to it.’
‘It’s dinner time,’ Rekha said smoothly. ‘We don’t talk about work at the table.’
‘You’re right. Except when you insist on mixing business with betrayal.’
‘Jai.’ Dad’s voice hardened. ‘Don’t take out your frustrations on your mother. You’re not the only one who has had a rough day.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Speaking of,’ he continued, his voice detached. ‘We’re dropping Rivaayat.’
My pulse pounded in my throat. ‘No, we’re not!’
‘The idea is ambitious, but too risky. Involving these artisans exposes us to liabilities we can’t afford. I won’t throw more money into a sinking ship.’
‘Dadaji built House of Advani on principles, not convenience,’ I snapped. ‘Lehenga Bazaar stole our work. We need to fight back. Rewrite the narrative. Reclaim it. I have a plan—’
‘We have a source at Lehenga Bazaar,’ he said calmly. ‘Word is, they gave the Mahalas money to hand over our plans to them. I’d be suing them so hard, but I’d rather not humiliate the Advani name publicly.’
‘They didn’t do it,’ I ground out. ‘Lehenga Bazaar is lying. Sharanji—’
‘Jai,’ Rekha said, her voice even but sharp. ‘We have the facts. House of Advani will disappear if you continue making business decisions based on sentimental value. Maybe you’re not ready to be CEO after all.’
‘If you insist on dwelling on this,’ Dad said, his voice hard as steel, ‘the board and I would have to agree with Rekha.’
A serpent of rage wound itself through me. ‘I spoke to Sharan Mahala. They did not do it. I can guarantee this because I know Rekha stole our plans and handed them to our competitor.’
She gasped, her hand flying to her chest. ‘How can you even think that, Jai? After all I’ve done for you—’
‘Drop the act,’ I snapped, my fist slamming on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. ‘You hired Ananya as my assistant to spy on me. She told me everything.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Ananya … what? I don’t even know anyone with that name! How can you accuse me of such a thing? I’m your mother!’
‘You are not my mother.’ My voice wavered, struggling to hold more than it could – grief, betrayal, anger. ‘You have never been my—’
‘Enough,’ Dad’s voice boomed. ‘Jai, stop this nonsense and apologise. Right now.’
The room shrank. My hands shook. A vein in my temple throbbed.
I’d heard these words my entire childhood. No more. ‘No.’
‘My mother took you in,’ Ayaan spoke, his voice low and hard, his eyes locking on mine. ‘She treated you like her own. And now, when things have gone wrong, you’re accusing her of sabotaging our company? Are you in your right mind?’
They’ll never see the truth. They’ll never believe me. My stomach burned like he had poured acid in it. ‘You’re blind if you think she treats me the same as she does you.’
Ayaan opened his mouth, but Rekha cut him off.
‘Ayaan, it’s okay,’ she said, her voice wobbly as she wiped away a crocodile tear.
‘I don’t want my sons to fight. I just …
’ She paused, drew in a breath and met my gaze.
‘Perhaps I have not filled your mother’s shoes as well as I’d wished.
And you felt like I loved you less. If blaming this on me makes you feel better … then fine. I did it.’
‘No, Mom,’ Ayaan said firmly. ‘Bhai, I’ve always respected you, but you have crossed a line. Your only proof is the word of a nobody. I will not let you drag Mom through the mud.’
‘Jai, I …’ A quiver threaded through Rekha’s words. ‘I didn’t realise you carried such bitterness in your heart for me. I’m so sorry.’
A crushing sense of futility sank into me. With every perfectly timed smile and every calculated tear, she had blinded Dad and Ayaan. They were never going to see her for who she was.
My heartbeat skittered. ‘Why did you do it?’ I demanded.
‘Get. Out,’ Dad gritted. ‘Come back when you’ve regained respect for your mother.’
The force of his command shredded me. He’s kicking me out. ‘You don’t mean it.’
‘I do.’
‘If I leave …’ My voice broke. ‘I won’t come back.’
His eyes remained unyielding. Ayaan’s jaw was locked tight.
The hollow feeling inside me expanded.
The family that I’d clung to, whose love I’d spent my life earning … didn’t exist. As I did with Ananya, I only saw what I wanted to see. The reality was different.
The truth, once again, shattered me.
I pushed back my chair and walked out the door.