Chapter 11
Armaan
I arrived at the office before sunrise, the sky still painted in shades of deep purple and grey. The building was almost empty, just the night security wrapping up their shift and a few early maintenance workers. My footsteps echoed through the marble lobby as I made my way to the elevator.
I had not eaten breakfast. There had not been time.
I had an important video conference with our Japanese clients scheduled for eight in the morning, and I needed to review the contract terms one more time before the call.
These were the moments when being CEO meant sacrificing the small comforts. Sleep. Meals. Normal human routines.
The meeting went well. The Japanese clients were pleased with our proposed timeline and budget. We shook hands virtually, bowed respectfully through the screen, and concluded the call with promises to move forward with the partnership.
As soon as the screen went dark, Meera knocked on my office door and entered with her tablet.
"Good morning, sir. The meeting went well, I assume?"
"Very well. They have agreed to all our terms."
She made a note on her tablet, then looked up at me.
"Your next meeting is at eleven o'clock. Viya Mehra from the development team will be presenting her optimization proposal."
Something warm flickered in my chest at the mention of her name. I had been looking forward to this meeting more than I wanted to admit. I wanted to see what she had prepared. I wanted to watch her present her ideas with that quiet confidence she had shown in the conference room yesterday.
She had worked so hard last night, so absorbed in her code that she had forgotten to eat dinner. I wanted to see the results of that dedication.
"Thank you, Meera. Make sure the conference room is ready."
She nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her.
I threw myself into work, responding to emails, reviewing reports, signing off on approvals. The hours passed quickly, the way they always did when I was focused.
But by eleven fifteen, there was still no sign of Viya.
I glanced at the clock on my computer screen, then at my phone. Nothing. No message. No call. No explanation.
By eleven thirty, irritation had begun creeping up my spine.
This was not like her. She had been so nervous about this presentation yesterday. So determined to do well. Why would she miss it?
At eleven forty five, I called Meera.
"Yes, sir?"
"Has Viya Mehra arrived yet?"
There was a pause. I could hear Meera typing on her keyboard.
"Let me check with her manager, sir. One moment."
The silence stretched out, each second feeling longer than the last. Then Meera came back on the line.
"Sir, I just spoke with Vikrant. Viya has not come to the office today. She has not called or sent any message to inform anyone of her absence."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Thank you, Meera."
I ended the call and set my phone down on the desk with more force than necessary.
What kind of unprofessional behavior was this? She had worked on this presentation all night. She had been so excited about solving the problem. And now she simply did not show up?
I reached for my phone again, intending to call her and demand an explanation.
Then I stopped.
I did not have her number.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was her husband. We had been married for three days. We lived in the same house. We slept in the same bed.
And I did not even have her phone number.
What kind of husband was I?
The question sat heavy in my chest, uncomfortable and accusatory.
I called Meera again.
"Sir?"
"I need you to get me Viya Mehra's phone number from HR. Immediately."
If Meera found the request strange, she was professional enough not to comment on it.
"Of course, sir. I will have it for you in just a few minutes."
Those few minutes felt like hours. I paced my office, unable to sit still. I was angry at her unprofessional behavior, yes. But underneath the anger was something else. Something that felt uncomfortably like worry.
What if something had happened? What if she was sick? What if she was hurt?
When my phone finally buzzed with a text from Meera containing Viya's number, I dialed it immediately.
It rang once. Twice.
Then she picked up.
"Hello?"
Her voice sounded small. Uncertain.
"This is Armaan," I said, my tone sharper than I intended. "I have been informed that you have not reached the office yet. You were supposed to present your optimization proposal today at eleven. It is now eleven forty five. What kind of careless behavior is this?"
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence on the other end of the line.
The silence stretched on for so long that I thought the call had dropped.
"Viya? Are you there?"
Then I heard it. A soft, broken sound. A whimper.
All the anger drained out of me in an instant, replaced by sharp, immediate fear.
"What happened?" I demanded, my voice suddenly urgent. "Viya, what is wrong?"
"I am at the hospital." Her voice was thick with tears, barely above a whisper. "With Dadi."
My entire world tilted.
"What? What happened to Dadi?"
"I found her this morning. She had fallen in the bathroom. There was so much blood, Armaan. So much blood."
I was already on my feet, grabbing my coat from the desk, my phone pressed against my ear.
"Why did you not call me immediately?"
"I do not have your number." She was crying openly now, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Mamta ji and Ramesh uncle were not home. I did not know what to do. I just called an ambulance and brought her here. Please come. Please. I am at City Hospital."
"I am on my way. Stay with her. I will be there as soon as I can."
I ended the call and ran out of my office. Meera looked up in alarm as I rushed past her desk.
"Sir, is everything alright?"
"Cancel all my meetings for the rest of the day. Family emergency."
I did not wait for her response. I was already at the elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly as though that would make it arrive faster.
The ride down to the ground floor felt interminable. When the doors finally opened, I ran through the lobby, ignoring the surprised looks from employees and security guards.
Ramesh was in the parking garage, wiping down one of the company cars. He looked up in surprise when he saw me running toward him.
"Sir?"
"City Hospital. Now. As fast as you can."
He did not ask questions. He just got into the driver's seat, and I threw myself into the back. The engine roared to life, and we pulled out of the garage with a squeal of tires.
The drive to the hospital was a blur. Ramesh navigated through traffic with practiced efficiency, but every red light felt like a personal insult. Every slow driver was an obstacle I wanted to physically remove from the road.
Dadi. My grandmother. The woman who had raised me. The only parent I had ever really known.
Please let her be okay. Please.
I did not pray often. I did not believe in much beyond what I could see and measure and control. But in that moment, I prayed to every god I could think of.
Please let her be okay.
We reached the hospital in what Ramesh later told me was twenty minutes, though it felt like a lifetime. I was out of the car before it had fully stopped, running through the automatic doors into the bright, sterile lobby.
The receptionist looked up as I approached, startled by my disheveled appearance and wild expression.
"Kalyani Khanna," I said, my voice coming out harsh and breathless. "Where is she?"
The receptionist typed quickly on her computer.
"She is in the ICU, sir. Third floor. But visiting hours—"
I did not wait to hear the rest. I ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time, my heart pounding in my ears.
When I burst through the doors onto the third floor, I saw Mamta immediately. She was standing outside a set of double doors marked ICU, her face pale and worried.
"Mamta!" I called out, rushing toward her. "How is Dadi? What happened?"
Mamta turned to me, relief flooding her features when she saw me.
"Sir, she is stable now. The doctors are with her. She hit her head when she fell in the bathroom. There was a lot of bleeding from the head wound, but they have stopped it now."
I ran my hand through my hair, trying to process the information through the fog of panic.
"Where were you? Why were you not at home?"
Mamta's face crumpled with guilt.
"I went to the market to buy groceries. It was early morning, and Dadi was still sleeping.
I thought I would be back before she woke up.
But when Viya beta called me, I was still at the market.
She told me Dadi had fallen and there was blood everywhere.
I told her I would come home immediately, but she said there was no time.
She said Dadi had lost too much blood and we needed to get her to a hospital right away. "
My chest tightened.
"So Viya brought her here alone?"
"Yes, sir. Nobody else was home. Ramesh had gone with you. Viya beta called an ambulance and somehow got Dadi downstairs. She brought her here all by herself. I came as soon as I could, but Viya had already admitted her and the doctors had taken Dadi to the ICU."
I stood there, trying to picture it. Viya, small and fragile Viya, finding my grandmother unconscious and bleeding. Making the decision to get her to the hospital. Handling everything alone because there was no one else.
"Where is Viya now?"
"The doctor needed some medicines from the pharmacy downstairs. She went to get them."
The ICU doors opened and a doctor in blue scrubs emerged. I immediately turned my attention to him.
"Doctor, I am Kalyani Khanna's grandson. How is she?"
The doctor pulled down his mask and gave me a reassuring nod.
"She is stable, Mr. Khanna. She suffered a fall and hit her head on the bathroom tiles, which caused a significant scalp laceration.
Head wounds bleed heavily, which can be alarming, but the injury itself is not as serious as it looks.
We have cleaned and sutured the wound. There is no skull fracture and no signs of concussion. "
Relief flooded through me so powerfully that my knees felt weak.
"Thank god."
"She is very lucky," the doctor continued. "If she had been alone for much longer, the blood loss could have been dangerous. But your househelp Viya acted quickly and got her here in time. She did exactly the right thing."
Your househelp.
The words hit me with unexpected force.
"Can I see her?"
"We are going to move her to a private room shortly. Once she is settled, you can see her. I want to keep her under observation for forty eight hours just to be safe, but I expect her to make a full recovery."
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much."
The doctor nodded and disappeared back through the ICU doors.
Mamta looked over at me.
"Sir, I am going to get some coffee for all of us. I will be right back."
She walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway.
The panic was slowly receding, being replaced by a different kind of awareness. An awareness of how close I had come to losing Dadi.