Chapter 24
KAVYA
“That looks great,” Abhiraj said, his eyes scanning his new office with the kind of awe usually reserved for a child in a candy store or a billionaire in a private jet showroom.
I leaned against the doorframe, trying to look unimpressed by my own brilliance.
I’d transformed the space into a masterclass of "Intimidating Chic.
" I traded his old, cluttered table for a massive obsidian-dark desk that sat at the center of the room like a silent judge.
Behind it sat a black leather chair so plush it looked like it could swallow a man whole, yet so structured it practically screamed, “I am the CEO.”
The wall behind the desk was now a textured dark stone, serving as a moody backdrop for a glowing cityscape painting.
To the side, I’d installed built-in shelves where I’d curated a collection of small sculptures and leather-bound books, most of which I suspected he’d never actually read, but they looked fantastic under the soft recessed lighting.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Chauhan,” Abhiraj said, stepping toward the wide window that overlooked the city.
The wooden floors gleamed under his designer shoes.
He looked at me, a playful glint in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful, cultured, and clearly have a talent for making me look more sophisticated than I actually am.
Honestly, if I’d found a woman like you years ago, I would’ve been a married man by now. ”
I crossed my arms, unimpressed by the charm offensive. “Well, you might actually make a decent husband if you stopped acting like a high-end escort for the socialite set.”
Abhiraj let out a startled bark of laughter. “An escort? I prefer the term 'eligible bachelor.'”
“I heard you dated that Supermodel last month,” I countered, my voice dry. “And then dumped her the moment the ‘novelty’ wore off. Or, to put it in your terms, as soon as you got what you wanted.”
“Getting what I wanted?” He adjusted his cufflinks, not looking the least bit offended. In fact, he looked delighted. “Mrs. Chauhan, that sounds dangerously close to a personal interest in my love life. Don’t believe the rumors; they’re toxic for the soul.”
“Rumors are usually just truths that people aren't brave enough to sign their names to,” I said, flashing a practiced, professional smile.
“I’ve learned to be unbothered,” he said, finally dropping into the new leather chair and spinning it toward the window.
He looked like a villain in a Bond movie, minus the white cat.
“The media creates stories based on whatever sells the most tabloids. If I cared what they thought, I’d never get out of bed. ”
“Must be nice,” I muttered. “Some of us actually care about our reputations.”
“And that is why you’ll stay small,” he said, spinning back to face me, his expression suddenly sharp and perceptive.
“If you let yourself be crushed by the weight of what strangers assume about you, you’ll never have room to grow.
You’re too talented to be this worried about what the neighbors think. ”
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift from flirtation to genuine advice.
“Anyway,” he continued, his tone light again. “Since I’m so thrilled with the fact that my office now looks like a fortress of power, I’m doubling your bonus.”
“You don’t have to do that…”
“I’ve already authorized the transfer. There is no room for argument,” he said, standing up and glancing at his watch. “Now, will you excuse me? I have an important call with a man who is much less attractive than you and significantly more annoying.”
“Right. I should leave,” I said, grabbing my purse and heading for the door before he could offer me anything else I didn’t know how to handle.
“One more thing!” he called out. I stopped and turned.
“Can you join me for dinner tonight? With your father-in-law? I’m throwing a small party for my grandmother’s birthday. She’s seventy-five, terrifying, and she’d love you.”
I looked at his face, searching for a joke, but he looked surprisingly sincere.
“I’ll try,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “But I can’t guarantee it. Wish your grandmother a happy birthday for me.”
Abhiraj simply nodded, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face as I turned and walked out, my heart doing a very unprofessional little skip in my chest.
What the hell was that?
_______
“Have you taken your medicine?” I asked my father-in-law while entering the room.
He was tucked away in his study, hunched over his laptop. As I set a cup of black coffee on the desk, his hand flew to the mouse, clicking back to the home screen but not before I caught the words Brain Tumor in bold letters.
“I … I was just about to,” he murmured. His voice wavered, and his hands shook as he reached for the pillbox. “See? Taking it now.”
I glanced at the clock. It was five in the evening; he was an hour late. I planted my hands on my hips, throwing him a stern look.
“You’re getting so buried in work that you’re ignoring your health again.”
It had been three months since the "incident," and while he was doing better, the image of him pale and still in a hospital bed remained burned into my mind. The doctors had been clear: his recovery was fragile. If he didn't rest, his life was at risk.
I had managed to convince him to only go into the office three times a week, handling the rest of the business from home while I picked up the slack.
I needed him well, just as I needed to stay strong for my sister, Kirti.
Her surgery was only six months away. I had saved six lakh so far, but the remaining balance felt like a mountain I couldn't climb. I’d considered asking Mr. Chauhan for the money, but I didn't want to burden him while he was ill.
Besides, I wasn't even sure if he knew I had a sister.
My phone chimed, snapping me out of my thoughts.
The screen was flooded with notifications, wishes for my first wedding anniversary.
I felt a pang of bitterness. This marriage wasn't a romance; it was a deal. It had been three and a half months since I’d last heard from Saurav.
That was the last call I heard from him.
I wondered if the date had even crossed his mind.
“Maybe we should go out for dinner to celebrate your first wedding anniversary,” Mr. Chauhan suggested, taking a slow sip of his coffee.
“I forgot to mention, Mr. Sisodiya invited us to his grandmother’s birthday dinner tonight,” I reminded him.
He beamed at the name. “That’s wonderful. Go on then, get ready. We’re dining with the Sisodiyas.”
I gave him a tight smile and headed upstairs. My WhatsApp was a rainstorm of congratulatory messages, but not one was from the man I actually loved. He didn't seem to care if I was dead or alive. It stung, but I scolded myself for wasting tears on a husband who wasn't there.
I chose a lavender satin saree and a sleeveless blouse, straightening my hair and keeping my makeup minimal to look elegant. When I stepped downstairs, Mr. Chauhan was waiting.
“Perfect,” he complimented, and I felt a rare blush creep up my neck.
The drive to the outskirts took thirty minutes. Abhiraj had sent the coordinates for one of his lakeside restaurants as it was a stunning, moonlit spot I’d never visited before.
The evening was surprisingly warm. I started by seeking a blessing from Abhiraj’s grandmother, touching her feet. She was wonderful, talking to me as if we’d been friends for a lifetime. She had the same sharp wit as her grandson, but without the arrogance.
“I’ve heard so much about you from Abhiraj,” she said, cutting a glance toward him. “It’s rare for him to mention a woman at all.”
“He probably told you all my bad habits, didn't he?” I teased, reaching for a paneer pakoda.
“Actually, he talks about you like you’re the best business deal he ever landed.” Grandma laughed, winking at Abhiraj, who looked genuinely annoyed.
For the first time in months, I actually enjoyed myself.
We laughed until our sides ached. Even Mr. Chauhan’s stern face softened into something affectionate.
By the time we finished, my father-in-law was exhausted.
He fell asleep in the back of the car almost as soon as Abhiraj offered to drive us home.
“We could have just taken a cab,” I whispered as we drove through the dark. The chilly night air rushing through the window reminded me of a date night with Saurav. My heart wrenched. He didn't care. He never would.
“It’s 11:30. It's too risky for a cab,” Abhiraj said, glancing at me. “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For making my grandmother’s day.”
I grinned. “I think she’s the one who made mine.”
He pulled into the villa’s roundabout and killed the engine. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. Before I could wake Mr. Chauhan, Abhiraj stepped toward me.
“I have something for you,” he said, producing a small velvet box. “Happy anniversary, Kavya.”
My breath caught. “Abhiraj… what is this?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a delicate figurine of Natraj.
“You’re an incredible dancer, and I know you're a devotee of Shiva,” he said softly. “I thought of you when I saw it.”
The thoughtfulness of the gift and the fact that he remembered the anniversary my own husband had ignored hit me hard. Overwhelmed, I stepped forward and hugged him. He hesitated for a second, then wrapped his arms securely around my waist.
“You can’t be this good to me, Abhiraj,” I murmured into his shoulder.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I thought you’d...”
Thud.
We both froze. A suitcase lay on the pavement. Standing a few feet away was Saurav. He was still in his uniform, looking like he’d rushed straight from a shift, out of breath and disheveled. His eyes were fixed on Abhiraj’s hand, which was resting on my waist.
I scrambled back, feeling like I’d been caught in a crime. “Saurav…”
He didn't hear me. He launched himself at Abhiraj, slamming him against the hood of the car. He swung a fist, but Abhiraj was faster, catching him with a sharp kick to the abdomen.
“What are you doing? Stop!” I screamed, rushing forward to pull Saurav away.
“Touch her again and I’ll rip your hands off!” Saurav roared, his face contorted with rage.
“You piece of shit!” Abhiraj spat, wiping blood from his lip and pointing a finger at Saurav. “You don’t get to storm in here and play the husband now.”
“Play the husband?” Saurav let out a hollow, jagged laugh. “This isn't a theater, you bastard. She’s my wife!”
“Then start acting like it!” Abhiraj hissed. He straightened his suit, threw me one last pained look, and disappeared into the night.
I stood there in the silence, guilt washing over me like ice water. I looked at Saurav. His nostrils flared, his fists were still clenched, and the air between us felt like a ticking bomb.
_______