CHAPTER 20
KW Capital Office
Mishti noticed the bruises on Karan’s knuckles during one of the meetings.
It was not immediate. At first, her attention was where it was supposed to be, on the discussion happening across the conference table.
But then Karan shifted slightly in his chair, resting his hands on the table, and her gaze was drawn to them without her intending it.
The darkened knuckles stood out against his otherwise spotless appearance. She was certain the bruises had not been there the night before when she had stood behind him, massaging his head. Which meant it had happened after.
After lashing out on her last night, he must have exhausted himself in the gym punching the bag as a way of controlling his anger, trying to cool the rage that had consumed him.
She knew he would do nothing to tend to those wounds. He would ignore them until they healed on their own or scarred, whichever came first.
By the time the meeting ended, her decision was already made, even if he resisted, snapped or hated it.
She knocked on his cabin door later that afternoon, first aid kit in hand. She had expected him to be alone, but when the door opened, she saw Rajat seated across from him.
“I can come back later,” she said immediately, pausing at the threshold.
Rajat glanced between them before smiling faintly. “We just finished,” he said. “You can come in.”
Karan did not say anything, but his eyes had already gone to her hand.
The first aid kit.
He knew exactly why she was there.
His gaze followed her as she walked in and closed the door behind her, moving toward the table. Rajat noticed the kit then and raised a brow.
“What’s that for?” he asked lightly.
Mishti did not answer. She placed the kit on the table instead, opening it calmly and soaked the cotton with the antiseptic. The moment she reached for Karan’s hand, he pushed his chair back sharply.
“Did I ask you to do this?” he snapped.
She caught his hand anyway.
“You do not say a lot of things to me,” she replied evenly, “but that does not mean I do not feel them.”
Karan froze.
For a moment, he seemed genuinely stunned, and his usual sharp retorts failed him. Rajat leaned back in his chair, openly observing their exchange.
Mishti lowered her gaze from Karan’s eyes and focused on his knuckles instead. She dabbed the antiseptic gently over the bruises.
“You should not leave wounds like this open for too long,” she said quietly, continuing her careful movements. “They tend to leave marks.”
He looked at her then, anger flickering briefly across his face, but it was not directed at the sting of the antiseptic.
She could bandage these bruises, and these fresh wounds would heal with time.
But the older damage, the kind that had already carved itself into his life, she could never touch.
Not even if she knew the truth behind it.
Mishti applied the cream next, blowing softly over his skin, her expression tightening instinctively, feeling his pain.
Karan watched every flicker of emotion on her face.
She was tending to his wounds as though they mattered to her. As though he mattered to her. And that disturbed him.
He had never been kind to her. He had spoken harshly, wounded her with cruel words, and kept her at arm’s length. And yet, here she was, unable to ignore something as small as bruised knuckles, absorbing his pain as if it were her own.
What was this woman?
What was this growing connection between them? That she cared for him without asking for anything in return?
Rajat’s soft whistle broke Karan’s stance.
His head snapped up instantly, glaring at Rajat, who was leaning back in his chair, grinning.
“Wow,” Rajat said, shaking his head lightly. “This feels so much like an office romance of an intense romantic series on OTT.”
Karan rolled his eyes, but Rajat was already enjoying himself too much to stop.
“Broody husband,” he continued, gesturing casually toward Karan. “Caring wife. Husband hiding his emotions as usual. Wife unable to stop showing her feelings openly.” He grinned. “Already a superhit show.”
Mishti did not respond. She gently released Karan’s hand and closed the antiseptic bottle, placing the cotton back inside. Only after she was done shutting the first aid box neatly, she looked up at Rajat.
“I just hope that at least in your story, the hero and heroine get a happy ending,” she said calmly before looking at Karan and continuing. “Because in real life, that looks practically impossible right now.”
Karan raised his eyebrow, caught off guard.
The remark was not loud. It was not dramatic. And yet it carried a sting. He wondered where this growing boldness in her had come from. Every day, she seemed to reveal a new side of herself, one that no longer shrank under his moods or his authority.
Rajat burst into laughter.
“Oh, Mishti,” he stood from his chair, clearly enjoying every second of this. “In my story, the climax is already crystal clear.”
He paused deliberately, waiting until both of them looked at him.
“The hero kneeling,” he continued, “ring in hand, asking the heroine for a happily ever after.”
Karan watched Rajat, despite himself, waiting for the punchline. But Rajat dragged the suspense out shamelessly before finally delivering it.
“And that’s where the series ends,” he said. “Straight into a cliffhanger.”
He lifted an imaginary banner in the air.
“Season two coming soon.”
Mishti laughed heartily this time.
“Imagine doing that,” Rajat added, grinning. “Leaving the hero hanging and clueless about the heroine’s reply. Making him wait an entire season for an answer.” He winked. “Worth it, isn’t it?”
Mishti turned her head slightly and looked at Karan, who was frowning now, his irritation directed squarely at Rajat, though it was clear the situation itself had begun to grate on him.
“Totally worth it,” she said, without hesitation.
That was it.
Karan straightened in his chair, authority snapping back into place.
“Both of you, get out. I have work to do.”
Rajat chuckled under his breath as he moved toward the door. Mishti followed with the first aid box tucked securely in her hands.
Once the door closed behind them, the cabin fell silent again. Karan sat back down, staring at his laptop without immediately opening it. His eyes drifted to his knuckles instead, where the bruises were bandaged now.
For a long moment, he did nothing.
Then he forced his attention back to the screen, though the faint memory of the pain he saw on her face while tending to his bruises still lingered far longer than he wanted it to.
***************
One Month Later
Another month passed in almost the same routine. For Karan, the days followed the same structure. The office. The meetings. Trying hard to ignore his wife at home. But he was not blind to what Mishti was doing in between.
Although work kept her busy. Mishti was trying hard to find some clue that would help her understand why his hatred for her family ran so deep and so personal.
Once, she casually asked Abhimanyu if he knew anything about Karan’s past dealings with the Goels.
He gave her a polite smile and brushed the question aside.
Another time, she tried Rajat, hoping at least now he might loosen his tongue.
But he had the same reply to her. That Karan would be the best person to clear her doubts.
She understood then that both men knew everything, and neither would ever tell her.
What surprised Karan, however, was that she did not push them. She did not corner them. She did not press or provoke. She simply absorbed the silence and moved on.
But Mishti, by now, had realised that something big had happened in the past and it had shaped Karan to what he was now.
Once, Karan even caught her checking old client records, past collaborations and internal reports, trying to see if KW Capital had ever worked with the Goels.
She was looking for any connection between KW Capital and the Goels.
Any overlap. Any business trail that could explain the bitterness he carried. She found nothing. And she never would.
Karan had made certain of that long before she ever thought to look. Whatever history existed between KW Capital and her family had been deliberately erased from every accessible record. No paper trail. No archived transaction. No whisper left behind.
Eventually, Mishti shifted her focus completely to the Trinity project and started putting together simple observations for Karan’s team to decide on the takeover. She spent her days studying the company’s numbers and reports, trying to understand what was not being said openly.
Today, the final meeting at the office was the one she was leading, where she had to present all the progress she had made so far on Trinity.
Every seat in the conference room was occupied.
Karan sat at the head, as always. Rajat and Abhimanyu flanked him on either side.
Kanika and the remaining board members were settled across the table, along with a few senior team members who had worked closely with Mishti over the past weeks on the Trinity watch.
Karan’s eyes had found her from the very moment she had walked in wearing a dark pink salwar suit again. He told himself it was a habit that, as the head of this company, he needed to assess her confidence as the new board member.
As she began speaking, his gaze lingered longer than necessary. On the way she stood straight without stiffness. On the calm sweetness in her voice. On the ease with which she held the room like she was prepared to own it.
She laid out the updates she had so far carefully.
“Based on the developments tracked over the last several weeks,” she said, “Trinity and Co. is now nearing the final stage of investor onboarding.”
A few heads lifted at that.
She clicked to the next slide and continued, explaining how the discussions had consolidated around one investor. Lexi Group.