CHAPTER 14
Kashish in the kitchen, crafting Boondi Ladoos, was a sight that stopped Rudra in his tracks as he walked by. He hadn’t known about her fondness for sweets, but seeing her now, expertly rolling the delicate boondis into perfect Ladoos, he was mesmerized. His admiration, however, was cut short when his brother, Shekhar, tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him back to reality.
“She makes boondi ladoos when she’s angry,” Shekhar casually revealed, sharing one of Kashish’s secrets. Rudra hated learning these little details about her from someone else—it stirred a jealousy he couldn’t shake.
Why would Shekhar share that? Rudra kept his eyes fixed on his brother, suspicious of his intentions.
“I thought you should know,” Shekhar said, attempting to make a point.
“And I thought you wouldn’t like me watching her,” Rudra shot back, his tone edged with sarcasm.
“I still don’t,” Shekhar admitted, his voice calm but firm. “But I’m pointing out the obvious, Rudra. You and her are like opposite poles of a magnet. By nature, you should draw each other in, but unfortunately, it’s never going to happen.”
Rudra let out a bitter, sarcastic grin.
“Is it wrong to look at someone if you want to?” he challenged.
Shekhar hesitated, thrown off by his brother’s defiance.
“Yes, it is, if it leads to hope.”
Rudra shrugged but Shekhar wasn’t going to let this go.
“We need to talk about this dangerous path you’re on, Rudra.”
“I’m not interested,” Rudra retorted, his patience fraying.
When he attempted to leave, Shekhar grabbed his arm to stop him.
“I’m trying to help you, before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late, Bhai,” Rudra snapped, his voice sharper now. “You’re 11 years late.”
He shook off Shekhar’s grip and strode into the drawing room, picking up his phone to make a few calls. Shekhar could only sigh in frustration. This wasn’t working. His brother was walking on a path paved with thorns, and if he didn’t turn back soon, his heart would bleed beyond repair.
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The next morning, as Kashish immersed herself in sketching designs in her cabin, an email notification popped up on her screen—directly from Rudra Raheja.
“Where are we with the deadlines?”
Of course, she remembered his orders from the previous day. As much as she loathed reporting to him, she had no choice as the lead designer. Begrudgingly, she typed back.
“We’re working on them. I’ve scheduled a meeting with the team. All designs will be ready by the end of the day.”
She minimized the email, trying to refocus on her sketches, though her mood had already soured. Communicating with him ? It felt infuriating. Her fingers trembled as she worked, but she pressed on. Another email pinged on her screen.
“Don’t forget to get them approved before you leave.”
Rolling her eyes, Kashish dove back into her sketches. After an hour, she gathered her team, discussed the designs, and selected the final ones. Reluctantly, she headed to Rudra’s cabin to get them approved. To her relief, he wasn’t there. Using the intercom, she called Jay, who informed her that Rudra was in a conference but would return soon. Deciding to wait, she placed the sketches on his desk and, in the process, knocked over a few envelopes.
Kneeling to gather them, one plain brown envelope caught her attention. Unlike the rest, it wasn’t official, and it hadn’t been opened yet. Addressed to Rudra Raheja, it bore a stamp from the Uttam Nagar Post Office—the same area where Kashish had lived with her father. Suspicion gnawed at her. Why would Rudra have a connection to Uttam Nagar? Was he planning something behind her back? Without thinking, she slipped the envelope into one of her files and hastily arranged the others back on the desk.
That’s when she heard his voice.
“What are you doing in my cabin?”
Startled, she quickly composed herself, turning to face him.
“I wouldn’t step in here by choice. The designs are ready. I need you to approve them.”
She handed him the file with the sketches, keeping the one with the hidden envelope clutched tightly in her hands. He sat down, reviewing the designs with an intensity that surprised her. His gaze softened as he admired her work.
“I approve them all. We’ll meet with Tanuja tomorrow. If she likes them, we’ll move forward with production.”
He approved them all? She couldn’t believe it. Was he trying to impress her for the sake of an apology, or had he become lenient due to the tight deadlines? She picked up the file and turned to leave, anxious to read the contents of the mysterious envelope.
“Kashish, wait.”
No, not now. She wanted to escape before he suspected anything. She turned, her heart racing, as he rose from his chair and walked toward her. Did he realize she was hiding something? She swallowed nervously, gripping the file tighter. There was no way she’d let him know what she had taken.
Without breaking eye contact, he bent down to pick up another envelope that had fallen at her feet. The moment he did, she curled her toes in reflex. His sharp gaze caught the subtle movement, and as he rose, he locked eyes with her—seeing the fear flicker in her expression. She was hiding something. He held up the envelope, scrutinizing her reaction.
Before he could say anything, she snatched it from him.
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
His jaw tightened at her audacity. He had just helped her, and now she was giving him attitude?
“Maybe learn to keep your things in order before you start mouthing off,” he shot back, his words cutting through the air.
That remark left her breathless for a moment, but she didn’t linger. Without another word, she hurried out, clutching the envelope. She was lucky he hadn’t noticed it belonged to him.
Locking herself in her cabin, she tore open the envelope—only to find it empty. What? After all that, there was nothing inside? Why would someone from Uttam Nagar send an empty envelope to Rudra Raheja? Was this a mistake or some sort of twisted message? Frustrated, she slammed her palms on the desk. A dead end. But Kashish wasn’t one to give up easily. If there was a hidden truth behind this, she would uncover it—no matter the cost.
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At 8:00 p.m., Rudra returned home, his eyes scanning the living room. Shekhar and Anjali were sitting on the couch, engaged in conversation, but Rudra had other things on his mind. As he made his way to his bedroom, he noticed Ram Prasad rushing ahead with his laptop bag. Passing by Kashish’s room, he saw the door open, the maid cleaning inside. A sense of unease hit him. She wasn’t home yet.
“Isn’t Kashish home?” Rudra asked.
“She will be late today, Shekharji said,” Ram Prasad answered, hesitantly.
Late? Why? Where had she gone? When Rudra left the office, her cabin was empty, lights off, everything as usual. She had left at her normal time. So why hadn’t she returned home yet? His instincts screamed at him to find out, to use the very skills that had helped him track people in the past. But this was different. He didn’t want her to feel cornered, knowing she already despised him.
After a quick shower and a few failed international calls due to poor signal, Rudra stepped outside into the entrance lobby for a better connection. Just as he was about to redial, the sound of a motorbike approaching made him pause. Kashish got down from Sanjay’s bike, draping a shawl over her shoulders. The sight of her with Sanjay—her colleague—sent a strange pang of unease through him.
“Thanks for the ride, Sanjay,” she said, her voice soft.
“Anytime, Lead,” he winked, clearly playful in his tone.
Kashish chuckled at the title, unaware of the storm brewing in Rudra’s chest. She waited until Sanjay drove out of the gates, but the tension in Rudra had already peaked. He was standing in her path before she could even take a step inside.
“Where were you?” His voice was rough, demanding.
Kashish rolled her eyes, trying to sidestep him, but in her haste, her heel twisted. She stumbled, falling hard onto the floor. Panic shot through Rudra, and he instinctively moved to help her, but her cold glare froze him in place. She waved him off, refusing his assistance as she winced, clutching her twisted ankle.
“Ouch!” she hissed in pain, cradling her injured foot.
He stood there, watching her struggle, knowing she needed help but refusing to give in. “You need help,” he offered, his voice a bit gentler.
“I can manage,” she snapped back, her voice sharp despite the obvious pain.
Rudra clenched his jaw, his frustration barely contained.
“I’d love to see you manage a walk with a twisted ankle,” he retorted.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to stand, using a nearby pillar for support. But her efforts only worsened her injury, and she landed back on the floor, her bottom bruised now too. It was all because of him—if he hadn’t blocked her way, she would have been in her room by now.
“If you don’t let me take care of that ankle now, you’re only going to make it worse,” he warned, his voice calm but firm.
“You’ve already made my life worse. What more could you possibly do?” she spat; her voice laced with venom.
She groaned again as another sharp wave of pain shot through her ankle. Rudra had it enough. Without another word, he bent down, scooping her up in his arms despite her protests. Fury flashed in her eyes, but he didn’t care. He was done playing nice.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed through the pain, her voice shaky.
Rudra ignored her, quickening his pace as he carried her to the bedroom. She was so overwhelmed by the pain that she didn’t even notice when he set her down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling in front of her, he gently placed her injured foot on his thigh. Her eyes widened in shock, and she tried to pull away, but he held her leg firmly in place, his gaze locking with hers.
“I’d rather cut my leg off than let you heal it,” she growled, trying to yank her foot away again.
His response was a cold, unwavering look.
“Have some mercy on your body,” he muttered, giving her just a second before twisting her ankle back into place.
Kashish gasped in pain, her hands instinctively fisting his shirt over his shoulder.
The sharp pain quickly subsided, leaving behind only a dull ache, and soon, even that faded. Her eyes met his, a mix of confusion and anger swirling in her gaze. She knew what he was doing. And she hated that she knew.
She jerked her foot away and stood up abruptly.
“Oh, so now you're a doctor too?” she snapped. “How did you know twisting my ankle would ease the sprain?”
“That’s called common sense, Kashish—something your hatred for me tends to overlook.”
Her jaw dropped at his mocking tone.
“I know exactly what you’re trying to do. You think by doing this, you’ll earn my apology? Get it through your head—I’ll never forgive you.”
Her words were like daggers, piercing him deeply, but this wasn’t the first time he’d heard them. Forgiveness from her was as impossible as forgiving the devil himself. He hoped—prayed, even—that one day before his last breath, she would find it in her heart to forgive him. But he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that hope now. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared back at her, his expression unreadable.
“So,” he said, his voice cold. “Why were you with Sanjay?”
Her mouth fell open, stunned. Was he seriously questioning her like that?