Chapter 35
KAVYA
I couldn’t suppress my joy. All through the flight back to India, a smile lived on my face. Strangely, Abhiraj seemed happy too. It wasn’t the trophy that did it; it was me. Every time I smiled, he mirrored it.
He shared stories of his childhood, but not once did he mention Saurav, my husband.
I found myself wishing he would. I wanted to know how they had grown up together and how close they truly were.
Saurav and Abhiraj were cut from the same cloth as they were ambitious, charming, and notoriously fond of women yet they felt worlds apart.
Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I asked, “Did you ever have a best friend?”
“Yes,” Abhiraj replied smoothly. “You. You’re my best friend now. In short, I'm your BF.”
“Abhiraj… ” I playfully punched his bicep.
“Ouch!” he laughed, his eyes glinting.
“I’m serious.”
“What? I'm serious about this 'BF' relationship?” he teased, earning a sharp glare from me again.
He finally softened, his gaze drifting as he reached into the past. “Well, I did have a best friend once. Those years were my golden era. He was a little smarter than me, though definitely not as handsome,” he added with a characteristic wink.
Then, his expression dimmed. “I wished it would never end. I never wanted to lose him, but...” He offered a sad smile.
“...he changed. And I didn't like the person he became.”
“What made you think he changed?”
Abhiraj frowned, focusing back on me. “Why are you so keen on my old friendships?”
“Because I can’t find any other topic interesting enough to talk to you about,” I retorted.
“Fair enough. Then why don’t we talk about your friends instead?”
“I have three…” I started, counting on my fingers. “No, four. They are my gorgeous girls. Avni, Noor, Rhea, and then there’s Ira.”
Abhiraj tilted his head, his interest piqued. “Four? That’s a loyal squad. Did you all grow up causing trouble together in school?”
“Only Avni and Noor,” I corrected, a nostalgic smile tugging at my lips.
I told him more about the girls, explaining how Avni and Noor were also Kathak dancers.
Among the three of us, Avni was easily the best, her precision was unmatched.
But Abhiraj shook his head, refusing to agree.
In his eyes, I was the one who stood out, a comment that made a warmth spread through my cheeks.
He never missed a chance to flirt, and in return, I didn't miss the chance to give him my scariest glare, though it did little to hide my blush.
Then, the conversation turned softer as he spoke about his own connection to dance.
He surprised me by revealing that his mother had taught him his first steps.
The lightness in his voice dimmed as he shared that he had lost both his parents in an accident when he was only sixteen.
The thought of him as a teenager, facing the world alone, wrenched my heart.
His grandmother was the only family he had left now.
He mentioned quietly that he was looking for the right person to marry, but added that the only "right person" in his eyes was already married to someone else.
I didn't ask who she was. I didn't need to; the answer hung heavily in the air between us.
I marveled at how easily we could talk, and how effortlessly he made me forget the worries I had carried for so long.
By the time the sun began to set, painting the horizon in deep oranges and purples, we finally landed in India.
A surge of excitement bubbled inside me.
I couldn't wait to see my father-in-law and pour out all the stories from our trip.
Most of all, I wanted to see the look of pride on his face when he saw the trophy in my hand.
Out of everyone, I knew he would be the one who would be the happiest to see me win.
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A heavy, unsettling sensation settled in my chest the moment I crossed the threshold of the villa. The house was silent, not the peaceful quiet, but a terrifying, hollow silence that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“Dad?” I called out. My voice sounded small against the high ceilings.
I headed toward his study, my pulse starting to quicken. He wasn't there. His desk was a chaotic mess of piled papers, and his laptop sat right in the center of the mahogany surface. My stomach did a slow roll. He never went anywhere without that laptop; it was like a second limb to him.
Restless, I checked the backyard. Usually, he’d be there in his favorite wicker chair, and radio. But the chair was empty, the radio was silent.
I hurried back inside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I stood before the heavy wooden door, swallowing hard against a rising lump in my throat. I knocked softly. “Dad?”
Silence.
I didn't wait. I threw the door open and froze.
The room was a disaster. A ceramic vase lay shattered on the hardwood, shards of porcelain glinting like teeth.
His medicine bottles were scattered everywhere, white pills rolling across the floor.
The bed was in total disarray, the sheets ripped off, the mattress shoved askew.
Panic surged through me like an electric shock. “Dad!” I screamed.
I scrambled downstairs, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I felt sick. My vision blurred as I rushed toward the foyer. “Mr. Chauhan!” I cried out again, but only the echo of my own voice answered.
With trembling hands, I rummaged through my bag, finally fishing out my phone.
I dialed his number, my breath coming in jagged gasps.
A moment later, I heard a faint ringing.
It wasn't coming from outside or a pocket; it was coming from the study.
I walked back in to find his phone sitting right there on the desk.
He was gone, but his life was still here.
I immediately dialed Uncle Dhruv. It went to voicemail. I hissed a breath between my teeth and redialed instantly. This time, he picked up.
“Ma’am… ” his voice was thick, guarded.
“Where is Mr. Chauhan? Why isn't he answering?” I asked, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “Is he in a meeting? Is he…”
“He collapsed this morning, Kavya,” Dhruv interrupted softly. “He’s in the ICU.”
The world seemed to tilt. I felt the hot sting of tears finally breaking free, spilling down my cheeks. My legs felt like lead.
“What… what happened?” I choked out, clutching the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.
“He hasn’t been well for a few days ever since you left for your dance competition,” Dhruv said, his voice cracking. “When I went to check on him this morning, I found him on the floor. He was unresponsive. I got him to the hospital as fast as I could.”
“I’m coming. Send me the address.”
Dhruv gave me the details, and I practically fell into a cab. The drive was a blur of gray buildings and honking horns. When I reached the hospital, I sprinted through the sterilized hallways, but I stopped dead when I saw a familiar figure slumped in the waiting area.
Saurav.
He was sitting outside the glass doors of the intensive care unit, staring blankly at a fixed point on the linoleum floor. He looked diminished, his usual sharp posture replaced by a hollowed-out exhaustion.
I approached him slowly. He noticed my shadow falling over him, but he didn't look up. “How is he?” I whispered.
No response.
“Saurav, is he okay? What are the doctors saying?”
Still nothing.
“Saurav… ”
Finally, he looked up. I instinctively took a step back.
His eyes were bloodshot and raw, yet strangely dry, as if he had no tears left to give.
His expression was a haunting mask, hard as stone, yet completely shattered underneath.
The silence between us was suffocating. I wanted to reach out, to take his hand or offer some shred of comfort, but the coldness in his gaze stopped me.
He looked at me like I was a total stranger. Like I didn't belong in his grief.
The heavy double doors of the ICU swung open. A doctor emerged, looking haggard and drained. He pulled down his mask and scanned our faces.
“Are you Mr. Chauhan’s family?” he asked, his voice low and professional.
“I’m his son,” Saurav said, standing up. His voice was raspy, like he’d been screaming in silence. “How is he?”
The doctor sighed, looking down at his clipboard. “I’m afraid the news isn't good. Your father is in the final stage of a brain tumor.”
The air left my lungs. “A brain tumor?” I whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“The collapse occurred because the intracranial pressure became too high,” the doctor continued, offering a sympathetic look.
“There is a massive internal bleed. He has been dealing with this for months. He knew the diagnosis, but he refused the surgery. At this point, there is nothing we can do to stop the progression. He has a few days left, at most. We are focusing entirely on his comfort now.”
The corridor felt like it was spinning. My father-in-law was dying? He had been carrying this secret alone while we were caught up in our own lives?
“Can I see him now?” Saurav asked, his voice sounding hollow.
“Yes,” the doctor nodded.
As the doctor led the way, I moved to follow, but Saurav suddenly blocked my path. He turned to me, his eyes flashing with a warning.
“You stay here,” he said. The words were cold, slicing through the air.
“Saurav, please, I need to…”
“I said stay here, Kavya.”
There was something dangerous in his tone, a lethal, sharp edge that made me freeze in my tracks. My heart sank as I watched him turn his back on me. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and retreated to the waiting room, sinking into a chair.
I waited. Minutes felt like hours. Every time the door creaked, I jumped, but it was never him. Finally, after thirty agonizing minutes, Saurav walked out.
I sprang to my feet and rushed to him. “How is he? Is he awake?”
Saurav didn't even slow down. He walked past me as if I were invisible.
“Saurav!” I cried, grabbing his arm.
He paused, his body tensing under my touch. He didn't look at me, but his voice was like a gavel coming down in a courtroom.
“Meet me at home.”
Before I could say another word, he wrenched his arm away and walked toward the exit, leaving me alone in the cold, white hallway.
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