Chapter 34
KAVYA
The next morning, I arrived at the studio with a heavy heart.
The conversation with Mr. Chauhan was still playing in my head like a movie on repeat.
Knowing that Abhiraj and Saurav were once best friends made every step feel like I was walking on hot coals.
It hurt just to enter his house, to be in his studio, and to dance with him.
I didn't have a problem with Abhiraj Sisodiya himself; he was a good person and had been nothing but a kind friend to me. But I had a major problem with what Saurav would think when he finally found out the truth.
Pushing those thoughts away, I tried to focus.
When the music started, I felt incredibly uncomfortable.
Every time Abhiraj reached out to guide my posture or help with a transition, I pulled back as if he were my enemy.
My movements were stiff, and my footwork lacked the usual crisp, rhythmic sound of Kathak.
I actually stopped to wonder what the heck I was doing. I was the one who needed the money, not Abhiraj. Despite his busy schedule, he was giving me two hours of his time, and I was behaving like a brat which I definitely wasn't.
"Kavya, you’re overthinking again," Abhiraj said, stopping the music in irritation. "You look like you're dancing with a ghost, not a partner."
"I'm just tired," I lied, keeping my eyes on the floor.
"Let’s try the lift again. Just trust the rhythm," he commanded.
We tried to coordinate a sequence where I had to spin into his arms, but my dupatta got tangled in his watch. We both stumbled, tripped over our own feet, and landed in a messy heap on the floor.
For a second, there was total silence. Then, Abhiraj started to chuckle. It wasn't his usual cold smirk; it was a genuine, boyish laugh. I looked at my tangled dupatta and my messy hair, and suddenly, the tension snapped. I started laughing too.
"So much for professional grace," I gasped, trying to untangle myself.
"I think the floor liked that performance more than the judges would," he joked, helping me to my feet.
The ice was finally broken. For the next two hours, the rehearsal felt different. We made mistakes and poked fun at each other’s styles. For a brief moment, I forgot about the secrets and even my husband.
Around noon, we took a break and sat on the floor for lunch. Abhiraj had ordered his chef to make sandwiches and insisted I eat with him, so I agreed.
"You're actually not that bad for a businessman," I teased, taking a huge, hungry bite of the delicious sandwich.
"And you're not as scary as you look when you're doing those fast spins," he replied with a smile.
We talked about small things—music, food, and the weather, avoiding the names that usually haunted us. It was a rare moment of peace in the middle of my chaotic life.
But reality returned the second I checked my watch. I packed my bags quickly and headed to the hospital. When I entered Kirti's room, she was sitting up, reading a book. She looked so fragile against the white pillows.
"Kavya!" she chirped, her eyes brightening the moment she saw me.
I sat beside her and took her hand. "How is my little baby today?"
"I'm okay. But I missed you," she whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Did you practice? Is your partner nice?"
She didn't know my partner was Abhiraj Sisodiya. I wasn't sure why I hadn't told her, but it felt right to keep it that way for now.
“He’s nice,” I said, thinking of the laughter in the studio and the sandwich we shared. "He’s a good dancer, Kiki. We’re working hard."
"I want to see you win," she said, her voice full of hope. "I want to see you shine on that big stage."
I kissed her forehead, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. "I will win, Kiki. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes."
As I walked out of the hospital, the weight of the secret diary in my bag felt heavier. I was building a world of lies to save the person I loved the most, and I just hoped that when the truth finally came out, I would still have a home to go back to.
One Month Later …
Switzerland felt like a dream. The white mountains stretched endlessly under a pale sky, their peaks glowing softly in the sunlight. The air was cold, and clean. It felt unreal, a slice of heaven that didn’t belong to the world I knew.
I stood by the large glass window of the hotel room, arms folded tightly as I stared out at the horizon. For a moment, everything looked peaceful. It was too peaceful to be true.
“First time?”
Abhiraj’s voice came from behind me. I didn't turn, just nodded slightly. “Yes.”
He stepped beside me, his gaze following mine. “You get used to it,” he said.
“I don’t think I want to,” I replied quietly.
He glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because then it’ll stop feeling special.” I sighed, my breath fogging the glass. My mind wasn't truly in Switzerland; it kept drifting back to Kirti, the surgery, the diary, and Saurav. My thoughts were a tangled mess I couldn't unknot.
“You’re thinking about something else,” Abhiraj noted.
“I don’t have the luxury not to.”
He didn’t push. He didn’t ask questions. Strangely, his silence made it easier to breathe.
The days that followed were a blur of contrast. Since we had three days before the event, Abhiraj insisted we explore this beautiful country.
We walked through snow-covered streets, sat in quiet cafes, and watched landscapes that looked like oil paintings.
But inside, I was a clock, counting every hour and every second lost.
One evening, we sat at a small cafe near the lake. Soft lights danced on the water, making the world around us feel calm and distant. I wrapped my hands around a cup of hot coffee, letting the warmth soak into my palms.
“You should enjoy this,” Abhiraj said.
I gave him a faint, tired smile. “I am.”
“No,” he replied calmly. “You’re trying to.” I didn’t respond. He wasn’t wrong. “Winning will solve your problem,” he continued, “but it won’t fix everything.”
I looked at him and said, “I’m not fixing everything. Just one thing.”
Abhiraj leaned back, his expression unreadable. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “we’re ready.”
That mattered more than I expected. “Thank you.”
The night before the competition, sleep was impossible. I stood alone in the practice hall, the stage lights dimmed to a low glow. My ghungroo echoed sharply with every tentative step I took.
There was something different tonight. A weight behind every movement. A desperation hidden beneath the grace. I stopped suddenly, my breath coming in uneven gasps.
“What if I fail?” I whispered to myself.
The thought had been there all along as it was unspoken and avoided. Now, it stood right in front of me, clear and terrifying.
“You won’t.” Abhiraj’s voice cut through the silence.
I turned to find him standing near the entrance, watching me.
“You don’t know that,” I said, my voice trembling.
“I do.”
I frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
Abhiraj walked closer until he was standing just at the edge of the light. “Because you’re not dancing for yourself. You’re dancing like someone who doesn’t have a choice.” He stepped forward. “And people like that don’t lose easily.”
I held his gaze, and something inside me shifted. It wasn't just confidence; it was a settling of the soul.
“I can’t lose,” I said, the words firmer this time.
“Then don’t,” he replied.
______
The day of the competition felt like a storm waiting to break.
Backstage, the air was thick with the scent of jasmine from my hair and the faint smell of wood polish from the stage.
My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my fingertips.
I adjusted my ghungroo one last time, the heavy golden bells cold against my skin.
“Don’t let the fear take your breath,” Abhiraj said, his voice low and steady. He had become my mentor.
I looked up at him. He was dressed in a simple, dark contemporary outfit that contrasted with my heavy, embroidered silk anarkali. Two different worlds, standing in one room. I took a deep breath and nodded.
When the announcer called our names, my fingers trembled, my palms turned sweaty, my breath grew uneven, and my heart pounded loudly in my chest. But Abhiraj took my hand and gently signaled me to take a deep breath and I did.
It didn’t completely chase away my nervousness, but it eased it a little.
We stepped onto the stage, and for a second, the sheer scale of the auditorium took my breath away. Thousands of faces were blurred in the darkness, and the bright, golden spotlights felt like weight on my shoulders. The stage was massive, empty, and waiting.
I looked at Abhiraj. He smiled, and I nodded back. How could he be so calm and confident? He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and then we took our positions.
Then the music began, a haunting fusion of a deep cello and the sharp, rhythmic beat of a tabla.
I started with the Vandana, my hands moving in graceful circles, my eyes fixed on an invisible point. Every step I took was grounded and definite. Then, Abhiraj moved. While I was the earth, he was the wind. He surged forward with a powerful leap, his movements fluid and raw.
We began to weave together. I would perform a fast set of spins that made my skirt flare out like a blooming flower and he would move around me, his contemporary style adding a layer of modern ache to my traditional roots.
The storytelling took over. I wasn't just Kavya anymore.
I was every person who had ever been told they couldn't fly. My footwork became a dialogue of thunder, the ghungroo echoing through the silent hall like a heartbeat. Ta-thai-thai-tat. Abhiraj caught my hand, pulling me into a lift that felt like soaring. For that moment, there was no Kirti, no surgery, and no fear of the future. There was only the rhythm. I could feel the audience’s breath hitch.
The silence in the auditorium was so heavy it felt like awe.
In the final crescendo, the music reached a fever pitch. We moved in perfect synchronization, my sharp Kathak strikes meeting his powerful, athletic turns. We ended in the center of the stage, breathless and sweat-streaked, under a single white spotlight.
The silence lasted for five long seconds.Then, the auditorium exploded.
The sound of the applause was like a physical wall hitting us.
People were standing, some were still staring at us with amazement, and the judges were whispering to one another.
I looked at Abhiraj. He was looking at me, his eyes shining with a pride that made my throat tighten. We had done it. We had told our story.
Hours later, we stood on the stage for the results. My hands were clamped together so tightly my knuckles were white. The third and second prizes were announced, and my heart hammered against my ribs. Please, I prayed silently. Just this once.
"And finally, the first prize goes to... Kavya and Abhiraj!"
The roar that followed was deafening. For a moment, I couldn't move. My legs felt weak, and the world seemed to tilt. We had won, not just a place, but the top spot.
I felt a hot tear escape and trail down my cheek. This wasn't just about a trophy; it was the answer to everything. The surgery, the bills, the hope, it was all suddenly within reach.
As the gold trophy was placed in my hands, its weight felt like a magic. I looked at Abhiraj. He didn't say anything at first, but his eyes were bright, and he reached out to steady my hand on the trophy.
“We did it,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“You did it, Kavya,” he corrected me, his voice thick with emotion. “You showed them what it looks like when someone refuses to lose.”
I pulled him into a tight hug, my tears soaking into his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be standing here without you.”
He stayed silent, simply wrapping his arms around me. I closed my eyes as I felt his lips graze my hairline, a soft gesture that said more than any words could.
_______