Chapter 31
KAVYA
Sleep was impossible with so many thoughts racing through my mind.
I missed my mother, I missed my sister, Kirti, and I missed my husband, Saurav.
It had been a week since Saurav left for his deployment.
I'd received a few brief calls since then, but nothing more.
I was so used to his constant presence, eating together, sleeping beside each other, that his absence left a hollow ache.
The silence in the bedroom was so loud it felt like it was strangling me.
I sat up, drank some water, and opened Instagram. I scrolled mindlessly through reels, unable to focus. Just as I was about to toss the phone aside, it rang. My heart leaped, it was a WhatsApp video call from Saurav.
I frantically ran my fingers through my hair, grabbed the lip gloss from the nightstand for a quick swipe, and answered.
I held my breath as his face filled the screen.
His hair was cropped short, his skin tanned, and he looked rugged, every bit the soldier.
He wasn't in uniform, though, just a crisp black shirt.
In the background, warm lights glowed over a crowd of people drinking and chatting.
"Hey, cutie," Saurav said, taking a sip from his wine glass.
"Hey, handsome." I grinned, meeting his eyes through the screen.
"What are you up to?"
"Trying to fall asleep," I groaned.
"Sleep as much as you can now, because when I get back, I’m not going to let you sleep," he winked. I laughed, feeling a sudden flush of heat in my cheeks.
"So, what are you doing?" I asked, trying to deflect.
"At some officers' party. I'm already bored," he sighed, swirling his wine unenthusiastically. "How’s Dad doing?"
"Haven't you talked to him?"
"I tried calling, but he didn't pick up. Must be asleep."
"Or just busy. Probably working on his next project," I offered.
"Maybe." He paused for a long moment, his gaze softening. "I miss you."
My heart stuttered. I smiled softly. "I miss you too."
"I wish you were here with me. I miss talking to you, watching you, eating with you, and..." He leaned closer to the camera, his voice dropping an octave. "...burying myself inside you."
"Saurav!" I hissed, my face burning crimson. "Shut up!"
"Who are you talking to?" a woman's voice chimed in. A second later, she leaned into the frame. She was stunning and fiercely confident in a sleek red dress.
"I gotta go. Bye," Saurav blurted, and the screen instantly went black.
I frowned at my dark phone screen. Why had he reacted like a deer in headlights? He looked like he’d been caught doing something forbidden. He was talking to his wife, for God's sake. He didn't even introduce her to me.
Am I overthinking this? I shook my head. Calm down, Kavya. You have bigger things to worry about. Seeking a distraction, I opened Instagram again. Almost immediately, a sponsored post caught my eye.
A dance competition in Switzerland. The prize money? Twenty lakh rupees.
My breath hitched. That was exactly the amount needed for Kirti’s heart surgery.
If I won, I could save my sister. I quickly clicked the link and scanned the details to make sure it wasn't a scam.
The page had a verified blue tick and over half a million followers.
It was legitimate. Hope surging through my veins, I started filling out the online application.
My fingers froze on the keyboard. Partner's Name.
Wait. Was it a couples' competition?
I reread the rules, and my sinking heart confirmed it.
The partner could be male or female, but it had to be a duet.
My mind raced through my options. Avni had two babies and a dance academy to run; she couldn't leave the country.
Noor was four months pregnant. Rhea couldn't even tap her foot to a beat without tripping over her own ankles. And my husband was away on duty, not that he would have joined me anyway. I’d never even seen Saurav dance.
I doubted he even knew how to sway his hips to a rhythm.
The realization crushed me. The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill.
I needed that money. It had to be ready the second we found a matching heart donor.
I spent the rest of the sleepless night trapped in an exhausting loop: the money, the donor, Kirti, and that impossible dance competition.
When morning broke, I stayed in bed, weighed down by exhaustion and hopelessness. I reached for my phone, a habit I usually avoided right after waking up but I couldn't let it go. I stared at the competition page again.
?20 Lakh. Switzerland. Couples Dance. It was a lifeline dangled just out of reach. I traced the edge of my screen with my thumb.
"If only it were solo," I murmured to the empty room.
But it wasn’t, and reality rarely bent for wishes.
My phone buzzed loudly, jolting me out of my thoughts.
A calendar reminder flashed across the screen: Meeting with Abhiraj Sisodiya.
He wanted me to decorate his new shopping complex, and for some reason, he had scheduled the meeting at his sprawling house.
It was already 8:30 AM, and I was due there at 11:30.
I ended up arriving thirty minutes late.
"You’re not on time."
The deep baritone voice came from behind me.
I spun around to find him standing there in dark trousers and a perfectly fitted dress shirt.
He was dressed slightly more casually than his usual attire, yet he looked undeniably handsome.
Abhiraj was the kind of man who didn’t need to announce his presence or power; the air around him simply shifted to accommodate it.
"Mr. Sisodiya," I acknowledged, offering a slightly teasing, apologetic smile.
"Abhiraj," he corrected softly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "We’re not in a boardroom."
"Alright, Abhiraj."
Once we settled in, the meeting began like any typical consultation. I walked him through design layouts, color palettes, and spatial planning. But as I explained the mockups, I realized Abhiraj wasn’t just listening to my presentation.
He was studying me.
His intense, unwavering observation made my skin prickle. I hated it when he looked at me like that. It made me entirely too self-conscious.
“You’re distracted,” he said suddenly.
I paused for a heartbeat, my hand hovering over the paperwork. Then, I forced myself to flip the page. “I’m not.”
Abhiraj leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “You’ve missed two major details in your own presentation,” he said calmly. “That’s not like you, Kavya.”
My fingers stilled. I exhaled slowly and closed the file, the slap of the cover echoing in the quiet room. “Let’s just finish the meeting.” I didn't have the mental energy for a professional facade anymore.
Abhiraj didn’t argue. He gave a small, perceptive nod, but his gaze never left my face. After a moment, he stood up. “Come with me.”
I frowned. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Normally, I would have refused, but the weight of the week had left me drained. I didn't want to provoke him with my foul mood, so I simply followed.
His home was a testament to his success, a sprawling sanctuary of luxury. As we walked, we passed a private theater, a gym, a boxing ring, and a swimming pool. Then, we reached a wide, open room. A dance studio? Why on earth did he need a dance studio?
Abhiraj stopped in front of a far wall. It wasn't a normal wall; it was a floor-to-ceiling display of trophies and awards.
There were so many I had to strain my neck to see the ones at the top.
I began to read the inscriptions: *State Competition, Interstate, Regional, International.
* My heart skipped a beat as the realization hit.
Every single one was for dance. I froze, reading the words again to be sure.
I looked at Abhiraj, then back at the trophies, some gold, some crystal, all of them sophisticated and hard-won.
“You dance?” I asked, my voice returning in a breathy shock.
Abhiraj glanced at the wall casually, as if looking at a grocery list. “I used to compete.”
“Used to?” I echoed.
He shrugged. “Business took over. I didn’t have your husband's grit, the courage to follow a dream instead of the family legacy.”
I stepped closer, my fingers brushing the cool metal of a contemporary dance trophy. “Contemporary,” I whispered.
“You recognize the style,” Abhiraj noted, watching me.
“I’m a Kathak dancer,” I replied.
“I know.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I answered it, grateful for the distraction.
“Mrs. Chauhan? We’re calling from *The Dance Affair*,” a voice said. “You started the registration process but didn't finish. Do you need assistance completing the form?”
“No... no, thank you.” I shot a nervous glance at Abhiraj and hung up quickly.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
“Yeah. Fine.” I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
“Are you participating in a dance competition?”
My eyes widened. “No...”
“I heard the words 'dance competition,' Kavya,” he said, his voice dropping. “And you don't look okay.”
“I have to go,” I said, turning for the door. I didn't get far. He grabbed my hand, firmly pulling me back toward him.
“My grandmother told me about your sister’s condition,” he said. “I’m ready to help you with the medical bills.”
“I can't, Abhiraj. It’s too much money... I can't just take that from you.”
“Then is there another way?”
“I’ll ask Saurav... I’ll...” I sighed, trying to twist my wrist from his grasp. “I’ll arrange it.”
“How?”
“That is none of your business.”
“I want it to be my business. I want to help.”
“You’ve helped enough already.”
“Let me pay,” he insisted. “You can treat it as a loan and repay me when you can.”
“No.” My breath hitched as I looked up at him. “There is... there is one other way.”
“Tell me.”
“The competition... *The Dance Affair*.” I watched his reaction closely. “The prize money would cover Kirti’s entire surgery. But there’s a requirement I can't meet.”
“What is it?”
“I need a partner. It’s not a solo category.”
Abhiraj studied me, the gears turning behind his dark eyes. Then, he spoke with absolute, unshakable certainty. “I’ll be your partner.”
I blinked, sure I had misheard him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because...” I trailed off. Because Saurav would be furious. Because it felt like a betrayal. Because it was messy. “Because my husband wouldn’t approve,” I finally admitted.
His expression remained a mask of calm. “Is he here to participate?”
I frowned. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” His tone wasn't aggressive, but it was piercingly direct.
“This isn’t just about dancing, Abhiraj.”
He stepped closer, not too close. “Then what is it about?” he asked softly. “You need the money.”
I stayed silent.
“You need a partner.”
Still, I couldn't find the words.
“And you are running out of time.”
Every word hit like a physical weight. I closed my eyes. He was right, and that was the most terrifying part.
“I don’t mix my personal and professional life,” I said, a last-ditch effort to regain control.
Abhiraj let out a short, almost amused breath. “This isn’t personal.”
“It *will* become personal.”
His gaze sharpened. “Only if you make it so.”
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I whispered.
“I don't make offers unless I'm certain of the outcome.” He paused, then added casually, “I’ve won multiple international titles, Kavya. We won’t lose.”
I couldn't tell if it was confidence or pure arrogance.
Probably both. My grip tightened on my phone as my mind spun.
Saurav. Kirti. The ticking clock. The money.
It was all colliding. This wasn't just a signature on a contract; it was a line in the sand.
And I knew that once I crossed it, there was no turning back.
“...I need time,” I said quietly.
Abhiraj nodded once, releasing my hand. “Take it. But don’t take too long. Your sister doesn't have the luxury of waiting.”
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