Chapter 19
Raghav’s car sliced through Mumbai’s evening traffic as he rehearsed what he’d say. Simple. Direct. Clear.
He’d never talked about a woman in front of his parents. This was different. This was Ishani.
Khanna Sadan’s gates opened as he approached the gates. He parked beside his father’s vintage Mercedes, took a breath, and headed inside.
The front door opened before he reached it, the household staff ready as always.
“Good evening, sir,” the long-time family servant said with a respectful nod.
Raghav paused, scanning the foyer. “Where are Mom and Dad?” he inquired, his tone clipped.
“Everyone is in the dining room,” the servant replied, gesturing toward the elegant archway leading deeper into the house.
Everyone. So Vikram was here too. Good. His brother could provide some buffer if things got tense. Though Raghav doubted they would. His parents had always bent to his will eventually.
He handed over his jacket and made his way to the dining room. The scent of spices grew stronger as he approached—his mother’s favorite dishes were being served.
He paused at the entrance. His father sat at the head of the table, reading something on his tablet with casual interest. His mother was giving instructions to one of the staff, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. Vikram lounged in his usual spot, phone in hand, looking suspiciously innocent.
He cleared his throat. All three heads turned at once. For a second, there was genuine surprise on their faces.
“Well,” Vikram said, leaning back in his chair. “Look who remembers he has a house.”
Kavita blinked. “You’re home? This early?”
Harshit adjusted his glasses. “Business dinner?”
“Yes,” Raghav said, walking in. “Deal closed.”
That got his father’s full attention.
“Signed?” Harshit asked.
“An hour ago.”
A slow nod. “Good.”
Kavita beamed. “See? I told you he would seal it.”
Vikram set his phone down and looked at Raghav dramatically. “So if you’ve already eaten and conquered another company, what blessing has brought you to dine with the commoners tonight? We usually need to book you two weeks in advance.”
Raghav ignored him and took his seat. “I’ll just have something light,” he said.
“Of course,” Vikram muttered. “He descends from the corporate heavens to sip soup with us.”
“Enough,” Harshit said mildly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
Kavita signaled the staff. “Serve him.”
Raghav waited until the bowl was placed in front of him. He didn’t pick up the spoon. “I need to talk to you,” he said.
The table quieted instantly.
Vikram leaned forward, delighted. “This sounds promising.”
Raghav didn’t look at him. “There’s someone,” he said calmly. “A woman.”
Kavita’s spoon froze mid-air. Harshit blinked once. Vikram slowly placed both elbows on the table. “I knew it.”
Raghav continued, steady. “And I intend to marry her.”
Silence.
The kind that feels deliberate.
Kavita recovered first. “What?”
Vikram stared at him in open fascination. “You. In love. I need to sit down.”
“You’re already sitting,” Raghav said dryly.
Kavita looked between her husband and her son, something unreadable passing across her face.
Harshit set his fork down with deliberate care. “Go on.”
Raghav finally picked up his spoon. “I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
Across the table, Vikram’s grin returned. “Oh, I’m definitely hearing more,” he said. “Please continue.”
“And what about the family we’ve been in talks with for months?” Kavita asked gently.
“I’ve made my own decision.” Raghav responded.
A weighted silence fell over the table. Vikram suddenly became very interested in his curry, though Raghav could swear he saw his brother’s shoulders shaking slightly.
“Your own decision?” Harshit asked, voice level.
“Yes.” Raghav met his gaze without hesitation. “I want you to meet her.”
He had expected shock. Resistance. Perhaps even anger. What he hadn’t expected was the calm curiosity that passed between his parents, or the way his mother’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners.
“Name?” Harshit asked.
“Ishani Rao.” Raghav stated. “She works as my executive assistant.”
“How long has this been going on?” Vikram asked brightly.
“That’s not important,” Raghav said, dismissing the question with a slight wave. “What matters is that I’ve made my choice. She’s intelligent. Steady. She understands the way I work.”
A brief pause.
“She understands me.”
That landed heavier than he intended.
His father’s eyebrow arched slightly. “High praise indeed from you.”
Raghav didn’t notice the faint amusement in his mother’s eyes. “I don’t give it lightly,” he replied.
Across the table, Vikram bit the inside of his cheek so hard it must have hurt.
“How interesting,” Kavita said, dabbing her lips with her napkin as Pista the puppy skidded across the polished floor and nosed at her plate. “And does she return these feelings? This assistant of yours?”
Raghav shifted in his chair, glancing down at Pista’s wagging tail. He still didn’t know how his parents came up with this name, matching the category of dry fruits, like Kaju.
That brought Ishani’s memory. He thought of her lips against his, her fingers threading through his hair, the breathy “come inside” she’d whispered not long ago.
“Yes,” he said simply. “She does.”
Kavita’s eyes twinkled, but her tone stayed gentle, probing. “Well, this is quite a surprise. Especially since we’ve been in negotiations with the Rao family for months. They’re very respectable—accomplished daughter, excellent match.”
The name Rao rang in Raghav’s mind like a discordant note. Same surname as Ishani’s. For a moment his strategist’s brain pinged with possibilities—until he shrugged it off. Mumbai had millions of Raos. Pure coincidence.
“I’m not interested in your arrangement,” he said firmly.
“But you haven’t even seen her photo,” Harshit protested, reaching for his phone. “She’s beautiful. MBA from London, fluent in four languages—”
“Dad,” Raghav cut in, tone final. “I don’t need a photo. I don’t need credentials. I’ve found the woman I want.”
At the word “want,” Pista let out a triumphant bark, tail wagging so hard he nearly toppled the salt shaker.
Vikram’s shoulders trembled as if he’d swallowed a ghost. Raghav shot him an irritated look and continued.
“Nothing else matters.”
Harshit leaned back, studying his son. “And you think that’s how marriage works? That nothing else matters but what you want?”
“In this case, yes,” Raghav replied, cool as ever.
Kavita shook her head slowly. “You haven’t even met the Rao girl.”
“I don’t need to meet her to know she’s not right,” Raghav insisted. Pista hopped up so his paws were on Raghav’s knee, tongue lolling.
A strange silence settled. Kavita’s fingers tapped lightly. Harshit’s jaw tightened. Vikram watched the showdown like a hawk.
“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” Kavita said at last, voice carefully neutral. “Though I must admit, Raghav, you’ve always been so logical, so thorough. To refuse even a glance at her biodata…”
Raghav felt a flicker of irritation. “I’ve already chosen. Ishani is everything I could want, and more.”
“Perhaps,” Harshit interjected, “but there are obligations. Family honor. The relationship with the Raos.”
Raghav’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so keen on that match, maybe Vikram can marry their daughter.”
At this, Vikram choked on his water, coughing violently as it gurgled down the wrong way. His face went a very undignified shade of crimson.
“Are you all right?” Kavita hurried to pat his back.
“Fine!” Vikram croaked, tears in his eyes from laughing-coughing. “Just surprised by Big Brother’s generosity, offering me the rejected bride!”
“I’m not being generous,” Raghav said with a shrug. “I simply never agreed to this arrangement.”
“But we did,” Harshit said, voice firm. “On your behalf. And now you want to walk away without meeting them.”
Raghav recognized the familiar tactic of forcing you to prove your stance with action. He leaned forward. “Fine. I’ll meet them. I’ll tell them in person why I have no interest in this arrangement.”
Harshit allowed a small smile. “That’s the least you can do. Tomorrow at eleven, their house. We’ll meet the Rao family and you explain why you’re choosing your assistant over their daughter.”
Raghav clenched his jaw at the emphasis on “assistant,” but nodded. A half-hour obligation, and then he’d be free to claim Ishani openly, no more clandestine calls or whispered meetings.
“Now that’s settled,” Kavita said brightly. “Who wants dessert? Raspberry kulfi, your favorite, Raghav.”
Just then Pista leapt onto the table, looking up at Raghav with expectant eyes. The puppy’s soft whine stole everyone’s attention.
“By the way, why did you bring a puppy? And don’t dodge this time.” Kavita had asked this question dozens of times in the past few days.
But Raghav dodged, until today.
Because today, Raghav met their astonished gazes and smiled. “He’s a gift for Ishani.”
Silence. Then Harshit lowered his spoon, Kavita’s napkin fluttered to the table, Vikram’s jaw dropped as he sprang up from his chair.
“Gift…?” Vikram whispered, staggering as if he might faint.
“Exactly,” Raghav said, scooping Pista into his arms. “She loves dogs.”
Kavita clutched her pearls, Harshit’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Dinner’s been delightful,” Raghav said, heading for the door, Pista snuggled against him. “But I have some work to finish before tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Behind him Kavita sank back, still gasping for breath, Harshit wiped his forehead, Vikram pitched forward in a theatrical swoon.
As Raghav stepped into the hallway, he grinned, pressing Pista closer.
Tomorrow at eleven, he’d clear the path. And then, Ishani would be his, officially and joyfully, forever.
He didn’t hear the laughter tumbling after him.
Or his mother’s dainty chitters.
Or his father’s amused rumble.
Or Vikram’s high-pitched cackle.
Raghav Khanna, who noticed everything in business, missed every single sign.