Chapter Fifty Four
Ira walked into the living room, her body aching from the long day, but her spirit still buoyed by the hope of those two interviews.
Also, the encounter of Samar...
She moved to greet her parent, but the expression froze on her face.
Her mother was perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands twisted in her lap, while her father sat staring into nothingness, looking ten years older than when she had left this morning.
"Maa? Papa?" Ira softly called, She dropped her tote bag onto a side chair.. "What’s going on? Why is everyone looking like this?"
"Ira... you’re back.." her mother said, her smile so tight and brittle.
Ira didn't buy it. She crossed the room and knelt beside her father’s chair, taking his calloused, trembling hand in hers.
"Papa? Please, tell me what happened. Are you guys okay?"
"Some suits showed up at the workshop today.." Raghav spat out, unable to keep the venom in any longer. He stopped pacing...
"Total bastards, Ira! They’re claiming ownership of the workshop. They told us we’re trespassing on private property and gave us exactly one week to evacuate before they bring in the bulldozers. They’re going to demolish everything!"
Ira’s breath hitched. A week? Her father’s workshop...the place that had put food on their table and clothes on their backs and even sent her and Raghav through School...was being demolished?
"Papa? Why?" she whispered, her eyes wide with shock. "Is there a debt we didn't know about? I thought we were done with Mr. Tiwari... we paid him every rupee we owed!"
"It’s not Tiwari, beta.." her father interrupted.
He finally turned to look at her, and the helpless apology in his eyes broke her heart. He reached out and stroked her hair, offering her a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I’m so sorry for getting you worried, Ira. I never wanted any darkness to touch you."
"No, Papa, don't apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.." Ira said.."We can fix this, right? There has to be a civil clerk or a land registrar we can meet with to clear up the deed. Maybe it’s just a clerical error–"
"Beta, slow down.." her father murmured, squeezing her hand. The calmness in his voice only made Ira’s heart beat faster.
"Papa, we have to act fast! One week? That’s not a deadline, that’s an execution! And we don't even know why they’re suddenly claiming ownership of a plot you’ve held for decades!"
"Exactly!" Raghav cut in, "They wouldn’t give us a name, nothing! Just handed Papa some high-and-mighty contract and walked off like they owned the very air we breathe. Bunch of arrogant fools."
"A contract?" she asked, turning back to her father.
He nodded slowly, "Yes. But you don't need to burden yourself with this, Ira. Your mother and I will visit the firm claiming the land tomorrow. We will handle it."
"Who is it, Papa? Who is the claimant?"
"Beta..." Her father pulled her closer, tucking a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear and offering a smile that felt like a goodbye.
"Don't worry, okay? we only told you so there are no secrets in this house. but dealing with the wolf at the door? That is a job for your mother and me."
"But Papa!" Ira pulled away. "I want to help! I can help. Where is the contract? Let me look at the signatures."
Her father shook his head...
"No, Ira. You have handled enough cases of your own lately. You’ve had enough heartache with Kunal and... everything else. I will attend to this one myself."
"This is insane, Papa! You won’t let me see it, and you won't let Ira see it either? Who is this person that thinks they can just take what's ours?" Raghav’s voice cracked..
He didn’t answer. He simply let out a long, weary sigh and turned his gaze toward Ira.
He forced a smile.
"Your mother told me you went for an interview today... how did it go, beta? Did they treat you well?"
Ira didn’t smile back. She stood up, with a growing, restless anger. The peach fabric of her anarkali swished aggressively against her legs.
"Papa, stop. We need to see that contract. I’m serious. What is going on?"
"And I said.." her father repeated, his voice firming into that immovable patriarchal tone, "your mother and I will–"
"Take care of it. I know! I heard you!" Ira cut him off, "But who is this person? I just want a name, Papa. Just a name!"
He rose from the couch, his joints popping in the silence. He didn't look at her, he couldn't.
"Ira, focus on the job you will be getting soon. Focus on your future. Leave this to me."
The words stung. It felt like he was dismissing her, pushing her back into the role of a child when she was the only one ready to fight. She watched him walk away.
Why won't he tell me? Who could this person be?
She turned her gaze toward her mother. Mrs. Verma was looking away, her eyes fixed on a loose thread on the rug, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her sari.
Ira narrowed her eyes, her intuition screaming. "Maa?"
Her mother looked up, her expression a fragile mask of forced calm.
"We need to talk.." Ira said..
"She won’t speak either, trust me.." Raghav groaned from the corner, "They’ve made some kind of pact to keep us in the dark."
Ira ignored him, her eyes locked on her mother’s face. What are they hiding?
"Ira, I... I think you... you shouldn't interfere on this one in particular.." her mother said.
Ira’s frown deepened, her confusion shifting into suspicion.
"What? Why? Why are you specifically saying I shouldn't interfere? What are you and Papa hiding from me?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Just... trust us, okay? Please." her mother whispered as she stood up and hurried away.
"Ugh, they are going to drive someone to actual insanity.." Raghav groaned, throwing his hands up in a gesture of total defeat before storming off to his own room.
Ira stood alone in the center of the living room, the silence of the house suddenly feeling like a heavy shroud.
"I will get to the bottom of this.." she mumbled..
~??~
"I know.." he said, his voice sounding thin "But I don't want to drag her into this, who knows if thia is a trap.
Not after what you told me, the way Devraj is obsessed with her now?
Involving her to this problem is like handing him the leash to pull her closer.
I won't be the one to lead my daughter into that man's cage. "
Sunita let out a shaky breath.
"I know. I don't want to be selfish, Mahesh." She looked at him, her voice trembling. "Do you truly think a man like him will even listen to us?"
Mahesh looked at her, his expression a mask of weary, paternal desperation.
"We have to try, Sunita. We have to try to reason with him before he devours us all."
Sunita simply nodded, sadness settling into the lines of her face.
~??~
"I have to get that file." Ira whispered, "The contract is the key. If I can just see the name, I can find a legal loophole. I can solve this before the bulldozers even touch the street."
She paused, her mother’s trembling voice echoing in her mind...
“You shouldn't interfere on this one in particular...”
"Why?" Ira asked herself, her brow furrowing in a deep, suspicious frown.
"Or Is it really a debt they don't want to tell me?
If it were Mr. Tiwari, he wouldn't be sending men in suits with legal folders. He’d be sitting inside our house like it's his, demanding for his money. This... this is different.."
A ping from her phone cut through her thoughts.
Ira grabbed the device, expecting a follow-up from her earlier interviews.
She stared at the notification from her email app. She tapped it open, and the words on the screen made her vision swim for a split second.
Congratulations, Ira Verma. We are pleased to inform you that your application for the position of Senior Consultant has been approved...
"What?" Ira breathed. "I didn't even apply here. I never filled out a single form for the Rathore Empire. And I definitely didn't go for an interview!"
She stared at the digital letter, her thumb hovering over the screen.
It was an impossible offer, But something felt wrong..
"I don't have time for this now." she muttered, her protective instincts for her father overriding her own confusion.
She closed the email and tossed the phone onto her bed, the device bouncing once before settling on the duvet.
"I have a bigger problem to solve tonight."
A sudden realization struck her, making her eyes widen.
Without a second thought, she rushed out of her room.
Behind her, alone on the bed, her phone began to vibrate. The screen lit up, displaying a caller ID.
~??~
"I had to, Maa. You and Papa haven't looked like yourselves all day. I wanted to make everyone’s favorites... so please, eat as much as you want. No holding back tonight!"
She placed a steaming plate in front of her father. He looked up at her, the lines of exhaustion around his eyes softening for a moment.
"Thank you, beta.." he murmured, patting her hand.
Ira nodded with a wide grin.
"Wait! I made dessert, too!" she beamed, her eyes sparkling with a feigned excitement that masked her racing pulse.
She raced back toward the kitchen before they could protest.
Her mom and dad exchanged a glance...half-amused, half-bewildered by their daughter’s sudden burst of joy.
Raghav, however, was already deep into his meal, happily stuffing a large piece of roti into his mouth.
Ira returned moments later, carrying individual bowls of chilled saffron-scented Kheer. She set them down one by one, the sweetness of the cardamom filling the air.
"Thank you, Ira." her mother smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her favorite treat.
"Are you not eating, Ira?" her father asked, pausing as he realized she hadn't pulled out a chair or picked up a plate for herself.
"Oh, Papa... look at me!" Ira gestured to the white flour smudges on her sleeves and the stray hair escaping her braid.
"I’m covered in ingredients. I need to freshen up and wash this off before I can even think about food. My skin feels like a bakery!"
"We will wait for you, dear." her father insisted, setting his spoon down.
"What? No! Absolutely not." Ira urged, her voice light but firm. She gently pushed his shoulder back toward his plate.
"The food is hot, and the Kheer is perfectly chilled. Please, start. I’ll be back before you even finish your first serving. I insist!"
Her father let out a genuine laugh, finally giving in to her persistence. He picked up his spoon and began to eat, followed closely by her mother.
Ira grinned at her parents one last time, the mask of a dutiful daughter firmly in place, and walked away.
The moment she hit the stairs, her pace shifted from casual to urgent. She halted at the top of the landing, glancing down to see the top of her parents' heads as they enjoyed the meal.
She bit her lip, her heart beating against her ribs, and increased her pace.
She walked quietly to the far side of the hallway, bypassing the route to her own room, and slipping toward her parents' bedroom door. She opened it slowly, the hinges letting out a silent breath, and stepped inside.
"Okay, I have them busy with food.." she whispered to herself, her eyes darting around the darkened room. "If I’m a secret contract, where would my father hide me?"
Her gaze roamed frantically, from the sturdy wooden bed to the heavy drawers, to her mother’s vanity table cluttered with bangles, and finally to the massive wardrobe.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, checking the mental clock in her head.
I have exactly two minutes to be here.
She moved to the drawers first, pulling them out in silence and sifting through stacks of old bank statements. Nothing. She checked the bed, sliding her hand under the pillows and feeling along the mattress edge. Still nothing.
She turned to the wardrobe, her breath hitching as she slowly swung the doors open.
She checked every corner, her fingers trembling as she moved past her father’s ironed shirts.
She was almost ready to give up, her heart sinking, when she spotted the corner of a manila folder tucked deep under a stack of her mother’s folded saris.
She gulped, pulling it out with a shaky hand. She flipped it open, her eyes racing through the cold legal text. It was the demolition order...the death warrant for her father’s workshop.
Her eyes blurred over terms like eminent domain and private acquisition, searching for the only thing that mattered. The source. The hand that held the knife over her family’s throat.
She read further and further, her eyes scanning the fine print until they hit the very end of the final page.
The name was there, printed in bold, undeniable ink.