Chapter 33
KAVYA
The heavy scent of polished wood and old dust filled the air of Abhiraj’s private studio.
I stood in the center of the room, the familiar weight of my ghungroos wrapped around my ankles, though today they felt like lead.
Each tiny bell felt like a reminder of the secret I was keeping, a rhythmic ticking clock against my skin.
Abhiraj stood by the music system, dressed in simple black workout gear that contrasted sharply with my cotton suit and the vibrant dupatta wrapped firmly around my waist. He looked professional, and entirely too observant.
“Kathak and Contemporary,” he mused, tapping a rhythm against his thigh. “The grace of your footwork against the fluidity of my movement. It’s a bridge between the traditional and the modern, Kavya. But if the bridge is weak, we both fall.”
“I won’t fall,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I was thinking of Kirti’s fragile smile in that hospital bed. I couldn’t afford to fall.
“We’ll see,” he replied and then he hit play.
The music began, a haunting fusion of sitar strings and a deep, pulsing electronic beat. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the *Taal* enter my blood. *Ta-thei-thei-tat.* My feet moved instinctively, the sharp, percussive sounds of the bells echoing through the silent room.
But as I transitioned into a *chakkar* Abhiraj moved into my space. Unlike the structured lines of my dance, he moved like water, unpredictable and sweeping. He looked so graceful and so smooth. He reached out, his hand catching my waist to stabilize a turn I hadn’t finished.
I flinched, my rhythm breaking instantly. The bells let out a discordant jangle.
“No personal involvement, remember?” I snapped, stepping back, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Abhiraj didn’t move his hand right away. He kept his gaze locked on mine, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I told you, dance requires trust. You’re stiff, Kavya. You’re dancing like someone is holding a gun to your head.”
Because someone is, I thought bitterly. My father. Time. Poverty.
“Again,” he commanded, ignoring my glare.
The next hour was a blur of frustration.
Every time we tried to synchronize, the wall I had built around myself got in the way.
Kathak was my soul, my expression of stories and emotions, but with Abhiraj watching me, I felt exposed.
He was a contemporary dancer; he used his whole body to tell a story, leaping and sliding, while I remained centered and upright.
“Stop,” he said, breathing hard. He walked toward me, stopping just inches away. “In this sequence, I’m supposed to catch you as you fall back from a spin. You’re resisting the lean. You don’t trust that I’ll be there.”
“It’s hard to trust a man who makes deals out of people’s desperation,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
A shadow passed over his face, something that looked almost like pain, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Believe what you want about me. But if you want that prize money for your sister, you have to let go of the fear for three minutes on that stage.”
He held out his hand. “Again. From the transition.”
I took a breath, shoving the image of Saurav’s face to the back of my mind. I couldn't think about his "no more lies" promise right now. I had to be a dancer. Nothing else.
The music swelled. This time, when the turn came, I let myself go. I spun, the world blurring into a whirl of colors, and as the rhythm peaked, I leaned back into the void.
Warm, strong arms caught me instantly. Abhiraj held me firmly, his chest rising and falling against my back. For a heartbeat, the studio was silent except for our synchronized breathing.
“Better,” he murmured near my ear.
I straightened up quickly, smoothing my dupatta. “I should go. I need to check on Kirti.”
“Kavya,” he called out as I reached for my bag. I stopped but didn’t turn around. “You’re a brilliant dancer. Don’t let the weight of the world mute your bells.”
I didn't answer. I hurried out into the cool evening air, the silence of the street a stark contrast to the chaos in my heart. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Saurav.
Landed Jammu and Kashmir safely. Missing you already, cutie.
I stared at the screen until the light dimmed, the guilt washing over me like a cold tide. I was fighting for my sister's life, but in the process, I was losing the very honesty that Saurav had shown me in the last few months.
I looked back at the darkened windows of the studio. I had made my choice. Now, I just had to survive the consequences.
_______
I reached home at eight. I took a quick shower and got dressed, my mind still spinning from the rehearsal, before walking downstairs.
I went into the kitchen to cook dinner; I made veg biryani, the dish my father-in-law liked the most. Once it was ready, I invited him to the table.
“How’s the practice going?” he asked warmly, the steam from the rice rising between us.
“It’s good. We’re trying not to look weird since our styles are totally different. I’m a Kathak dancer and Abhiraj is contemporary,” I replied with a small smile, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“I’m telling you a secret...” Mr. Chauhan said, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Abhiraj and Saurav were childhood best friends. But they broke up when Saurav chose the Air Force instead of business. They had promised each other they would stay together forever, but Abhiraj ended things when Saurav left for training without telling him.”
He paused for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful.
“Abhiraj is kind of jealous of Saurav, I guess. Because my son is fulfilling his dream while Abhiraj remains stuck to a boring business.” Mr. Chauhan took a few spoonfuls of biryani before looking up at me again.
“He’s still jealous of my son, but the reason is different now. ”
He smiled softly, though his eyes remained serious. “The reason is you, Kavya. I can see the way he looks at you.”
My heart skipped a beat, but before I could find my voice, he continued. “Yes, I used him to get you closer to Saurav, but I think it was my biggest mistake.” He sighed heavily, the weight of his regret filling the room.
“I am… ” I started to apologize, feeling a strange mix of guilt and confusion.
“No... no... it’s not your fault, Kavya.
And if you’re thinking of giving up this competition just because Abhiraj is your partner, don’t you dare do it.
I just told you what I felt.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
“I just want you to fly. I just want you to be happy, Kavya,” Mr. Chauhan said, his eyes misting over.
“And this competition… it’s your flight.
Don't let the past or Abhiraj’s feelings pull you down. ”
I looked at my plate, the spices of the biryani suddenly feeling tasteless. The revelation about Saurav and Abhiraj’s friendship made my chest tighten. They were best friends? And now I was dancing with the man who envied my husband? It felt like I was walking through a minefield.
“Saurav never told me,” I whispered.
“He wouldn’t,” Mr. Chauhan sighed. “My son carries his scars like medals. He doesn’t talk about the people who walked away.”
He pushed his plate aside and stood up slowly, his movements heavy. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
I watched him walk toward his study. The house felt too big, too full of echoes. A few minutes later, he returned holding a small, weathered leather diary. The edges were frayed, and the cover was stained with time.
He placed it on the table between us.
“I told you I was keeping secrets,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Saurav hates me because he thinks I am the reason his mother left us. He thinks I am a cold, heartless businessman who chose money over family.”
“Isn't that… ?” I started, but stopped.
“No,” he interrupted softly. “This diary belonged to her. To my wife.”
He pushed the book toward me. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the leather. This felt like holding a piece of history, a heavy burden that didn't belong to me.
“Read it, Kavya. Not tonight, but when you are ready. It contains the truth about why she left and why I stayed silent all these years. I couldn't tell Saurav because the truth would break him more than the lie did.”
I looked at his tired eyes and saw the wailing man from the rose beds again. He wasn't a villain; he was a man drowning in a sacrifice no one understood.
“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked.
“Because you are the only one who can bridge the gap between us,” he said, patting my hand. “You are the heart of this family now. When the time is right, you will know what to do.”
He turned to leave, stopping at the base of the stairs. “The biryani was delicious, beta. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Dad,” I said, the word feeling natural for the first time.
I sat alone in the kitchen, the silence ringing in my ears. I looked at the diary, then at my phone. A part of me wanted to call Saurav and tell him everything about the dance, about Abhiraj, about the diary.
But I thought of my sister’s face and my father’s threats. I picked up the book and clutched it to my chest.
I was surrounded by men with secrets, and now, I was the biggest keeper of them all.
______