CHAPTER 13
Keeping the sting of Karan’s earlier words buried somewhere deep within her, Mishti stepped into the garden area where the party was unfolding.
Guests mingled around in relaxed groups, as she moved forward slowly, her eyes searching through the crowd.
She did not know many people here and needed someone she trusted by her side, at least until she settled into the role of the host’s wife.
Expecting help from Karan felt pointless. Which was why she looked around for Abhimanyu instead. He would at least guide her through the initial greetings, help her blend into their world.
But just as she took another step forward, she saw Komal walking toward her, much to her relief.
“You look so pretty in red,” Komal said sincerely, giving a brief hug to Mishti, taking in the red saree she wore.
“Thank you. You look very elegant as well. And I’m so glad you are here.”
“Oh, trust me, I had almost cancelled my plans,” Komal admitted, almost looking once behind Mishti before meeting her gaze again. “But then I thought it would be nice to see you again outside those four clinical walls. So, I’m here.”
Before Mishti could understand who she glanced at, Abhimanyu reached them first, followed by Rajat. Both men greeted Mishti warmly, who then introduced Komal.
“Rajat, this is Dr Komal Sharma. She is the one who has been taking care of me ever since the accident.”
Rajat stepped forward, slightly curious.
“So, you are the doctor who doesn’t get along with Karan,” he asked, as if he had been waiting to confirm it.
Komal blinked, genuinely taken aback. Mishti too stared at him, surprised how he knew Karan and Dr Komal never got along.
Rajat smiled, clearly enjoying their reactions. “Please don’t look at me like that. Karan and I are best friends. We may not gossip the way people assume women do, but trust me, we are not saints either.”
Both the women looked at each other, amused, as Rajat continued, “When he told me Mishti’s doctor practically threatened not to discharge her unless he behaved properly with his wife, I imagined someone older and strict. Definitely middle-aged.”
He paused, just enough to make the moment playful.
“But you… You are quite young, and if I may add without risking my life, far too beautiful.”
Komal let out a soft laugh. “If that is your polite way of saying I scared your best friend, then I shall take it as a compliment.”
Rajat grinned. “You should. Karan rarely gets scolded. It was refreshing to hear.”
Mishti nearly chuckled while Abhimanyu shifted slightly beside her, his eyes narrowing a fraction towards Komal. He clearly was affected seeing Rajat and Komal talking with such ease. Komal also held his gaze for a few seconds before continuing her talk to Rajat.
Mishti once again noticed the faintest shift of breath in both of them.
They continued speaking in a small circle, the conversation gentle and pleasant.
Mishti smiled more than she expected, especially at Rajat’s light-hearted teasing and at the way Abhimanyu animatedly recounted his recent welcome at the Wadhwa mansion, with a glass of orange juice that had been mysteriously laced with pepper, leaving him coughing for several minutes.
He was still trying to understand whom that unfortunate drink had originally been meant for.
Rajat took Kanika’s name without hesitation, startling Mishti and Komal, who exchanged embarrassed glances at how accurate that guess sounded.
But Rajat only continued, unbothered, adding that his sister was capable of far worse mischief and that a little pepper would hardly make a difference to her.
Although he did warn them never to try that again, he loved his sister very much, no matter what.
The conversation drifted onward.
Karan, who stood among several businessmen who were speaking animatedly about the latest mergers in the industry, was not entirely present in that conversation.
His gaze slipped across the garden once again, toward Mishti, who was standing with Komal, Rajat, and Abhimanyu, and smiling, as if the bitterness he had thrown at her merely an hour ago had not managed to dim her warmth.
He tried to turn back to the conversation, tried to listen, even tried to ignore the tug that pulled his eyes toward her again, but failed.
When Rajat leaned a little closer to Mishti in the group, Karan’s fist clenched. When Abhimanyu pulled Mishti to introduce her to his friends, something twisted sharply in his chest. And when one of Abhimanyu’s friends shook hands with her affectionately, praising her, the feeling only intensified.
Kanika noticed every shift in his expression. “You are not even trying to hide your interest in her anymore,” she said, stepping closer.
His gaze snapped to her. “I have no interest in her,” he said coldly.
“Oh, really? You have been looking at her more than you have looked at anyone the entire evening.”
Karan gulped his drink in one go before glaring at Kanika.
“You dislike her, and you dislike me watching her,” he replied. “Both are your personal problems. Do not involve me in it, Kanika.”
Saying that, he simply walked away. But even as he moved across the lawn, even as he stood with a different group of guests, even as he tried to drown his thoughts in polite conversation…his eyes continued to drift back to his wife, who was enjoying this party, far more to his liking.
Back to Mishti, when Rajat described the Lonavala evening in detail, especially the moment Karan had refused to let his own friends linger near Mishti, Abhimanyu’s eyes glimmered of mischief, the kind that only appeared when he was tempted to test something for himself.
“Wow. Honestly, I feel I deserve to see it firsthand too,” Abhimanyu said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin. He extended his hand toward her, palm open, inviting. “Will you dance with me, Bhabhi?”
Mishti froze for a moment. It was not the request that startled her.
She liked Abhimanyu’s company and felt comfortable around him.
What unsettled her was the question rising inside her…
would this matter to Karan at all? Would he even look up?
Or would he simply stay unaffected, exactly as he claimed to be?
Before she could answer, Rajat urged, “Come on, Mishti. It’s just a dance. And do not worry about your doctor friend here. She can survive my humour without you.”
Komal nodded. “Go, Mishti. You deserve to enjoy this evening.”
Their insistence made the choice easier. People were already dancing, and she could not stand rooted in her hesitation forever. She placed her hand slowly into his and let him guide her toward the dance floor.
The music was lively. Abhimanyu’s touch was respectful. Within less than a minute, he leaned closer just enough for her to catch his words over the music, telling her that Karan had already seen them dancing together. Before she could react, he spun her with an easy flourish.
Mishti drew in a soft breath, and just as the twirl ended, she collided with his solid chest. Not Abhimanyu but… Karan caught her shoulders before she could stumble.
He stood close, too close, his hands firm on her arms as though he had been waiting for her to fall into him. There was no surprise on his face, only a brooding intensity that made the sounds around them fade.
Abhimanyu noticed the way she had landed in Karan’s hold and stepped back, raising his hand toward the DJ, giving a quick signal.
The music shifted instantly, the lively beat melting into a slow, romantic tune that coaxed the dancers into each other’s arms. The lights dimmed too and couples moved closer. The entire atmosphere turned romantic around them.
Heat crept up Mishti’s neck when Karan’s hand slid down to take hers, guiding her gently into the slow rhythm. He didn’t speak, but simply drew her forward, letting their bodies fall into a synchronised sway she had no strength to resist.
“You are getting predictable these days,” she murmured, “Abhimanyu and Rajat said you would be jealous. That’s why they coaxed me into dancing. And you didn’t disappoint them.”
His jaw tightened as he threw an angry glance at the two men far away, but he said nothing.
Just his hands curved at her waist, drawing her closer than the others around them.
She could feel the restraint in his breath near her temple, the tension in his shoulders, the soft battle in the way he held her, yet tried not to hold her too much.
“This is exactly what I meant,” she continued. “You say one thing and do something entirely different.”
He pulled her another inch toward him, their foreheads almost touching. Finally, his eyes lowered to her face.
“I am doing this only for the sake of appearances,” he said with jaw clenched.
“The Goels may not, but I still have a reputation to maintain. And I will never stand by and watch someone else… even my own brother… behave as if my wife belongs to him. If you dance, then you dance with me, Mishti. With your husband. No one else.”
The way he said the word husband was completely hot and possessive.
“I see,” she sighed. “So, this is all for the sake of appearances. But then, just like the way you told your brother and best friend how disinterested you were in this marriage, why not tell the world the same thing? It will save you from all this pretence in future.”
She had struck the point brutally, and she knew it. In one swift motion, he pulled her closer…so close their bodies aligned, leaving no gap for even air to pass between them. It was the kind of touch which was too intimate for a man who claimed to feel nothing for his wife.
“Do not teach me what I have to do, Mishti,” he warned.
Her gaze rose to his face while his eyes lowered to her parted lips for a fleeting second before he forced them upward again, fighting whatever had sparked inside him.