Chapter 1
Kavya
Seven months later
“Here’s your tenth cup of coffee, ma’am,” Akash says, placing the cup on my desk. Looking up from my laptop, I grin at the man who has been more than just a boss to me; he’s been a pillar of support and an extremely good friend.
“I didn’t know the boss was keeping track of my coffee intake,” I tease, bringing the cup to my lips, as he moves to sit in the wooden chair across from me. He’s dressed casually today, wearing a crisp white shirt and blue denim jeans. His brown hair matches his eyes, and his handsome face drives the girls crazy. Trust me, this man loves every bit of attention he gets from them. And as his best friend, he flaunts it to me every day.
“Well, someone’s got to make sure you don’t turn into a coffee bean,” he chuckles.
I grin and shake my head, setting the cup back on my desk. “At this rate, I might just. Thanks for the coffee, though. You’re a lifesaver.”
For the past six months, I’ve been working as the marketing head for Akash’s clothing brand. When I first walked in for the interview here, I was filled with uncertainty, doubting whether I even had a chance, given my lack of experience. But as I explained my situation—how crucial this job was for me to support my sister’s medical needs—Akash didn’t hesitate to offer me the position, saying he believed that work experience alone doesn’t define a person’s talent. His firm belief that I possessed all the qualities he was seeking for the role helped me navigate this challenging time without falling apart. From day one, Akash Sharma has proven to be a true blessing during these rough times.
“Anything to keep my favorite one and only workaholic going,” he says with a smile, pulling me out of my thoughts. But the next moment, a look of concern crosses his face. “You do realize it’s nine at night, and everyone has left. You’re the only one in the office, putting in the extra hours.”
I sigh and nod towards my laptop. “I had to finalize the campaign that we’ll be posting two days from now.”
“It could wait until tomorrow morning,” he counters.
I shake my head. He knows all too well how much I hate leaving work unfinished and pending. It’s not about the time; it’s about meeting deadlines. Besides the paycheck, I genuinely love my job, and I don’t mind putting in the extra hours to make sure everything is completed on time.
“Nope, I didn’t want to go home without getting this done. And look who’s talking. You’re also still here,” I point out. “Classic case of the pot calling the kettle black,” I murmur.
“Well, as the boss, it’s my duty to be the last one to leave the office,” he says with a wry smile. Then, he adds. “Kavya, you do know if you ever need any help, I am here,” he offers, echoing his support as he has countless times before. Despite my insistence that I can handle things, he never fails to remind me that he cares. Maybe, since he’s ten years older than me, he just naturally looks out for me like a guardian would.
“Thanks, Akash, but I’ve got it covered. You’ve already done so much for me. This job, the six-digit salary—which is more than I deserve—has been a lifeline for managing my sister’s medical bills and my own expenses. I couldn’t ask for more.”
“You deserve it, Kavya. You’ve been a great asset to the company, and the hours and hard work you put in don’t go unnoticed,” he says, placing his arms on the desk and leaning forward to cover my hands with his. “I know it’s not easy to manage medical expenses on your own, especially after losing your parents. I want you to tell me if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
I give him a polite smile. “Akash, your support means the world to me. Knowing you’re here for me makes all the difference. I’ll definitely reach out if I need anything. But right now, I am good.”
“Just let me know,” he nods, glancing at his Rolex wristwatch and then back at me, “Kavya, I need to head out for a dinner meeting. Are you winding up or staying?”
“I just need a few more minutes. You go ahead.”
“Alright, just don’t lose yourself in work,” he advises with a gentle smile.
“I won’t, I promise,” I assure him.
He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re very good at keeping that promise. Remember all work and no play—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Makes me a very productive person,” I smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to wrap up within an hour.”
He rises to his feet and looks down at me. “I’ll hold you to that. Just don’t make me drag you out of here.”
I grin, “Deal. But if you do have to drag me out, at least make sure there’s more coffee wherever we’re going.”
He laughs, “You got it! Coffee on standby for any rescue missions.”
“Exactly,” I wink.
“See you tomorrow,” he says, planting a kiss on my cheek before heading out.
Once he leaves, I return my attention to the laptop screen, diving back into the files before me.
???
An hour later, I finally pull into the driveway of my house, park the car, and turn off the engine. My heart pounds in my chest as I gaze at my house that once looked like a haven. Everything looks the same—the small two-story house with its white and brown paint and the little garden, where my mom, my sister, and I used to spend hours together. But now, every time I step inside, it feels profoundly different. There is no warm welcome from my parents, no lively chaos from my sister. Instead, I will find her lying in silence, deep in a coma.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and open the car door, only to see the front door of the house opening at the same time. Closing my car door, I smile when I see Sunita Aunty standing on the front porch, dressed in a peach salwar, her short salt-and-pepper hair neatly tied in a bun. Sunita Aunty is my sister’s full-time caretaker and, more importantly, she’s taken on the role of a mother figure, filling a void in my life left by my mom’s absence.
“Kavya,” she smiles as I take a step towards her. The smile on her wrinkled face brings me comfort after a hectic day at work. “I was waiting for you to get home,” she says, opening her arms, and my heart tightens painfully in my chest. Closing the distance between us, I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the crook of her neck.
“I am sorry, Aunty. Work took longer than I thought,” I murmur, pulling back slightly . I then narrow my eyes at her and put on my stern voice. “How many times have I told you not to wait up for me? You need your rest.”
“You know I can’t do that. I can’t sleep peacefully until I see your face,” she replies, her brown eyes sparkling with affection.
“Aunty, I don’t like—” I begin, but she cuts me off before I can say anything further.
“Shush, stop fighting with the old lady and let’s go inside,” she quips, taking my hand and leading me into the house .
“You like playing the ‘old lady’ card with me,” I groan, rolling my eyes as I drop onto the couch, setting my purse down on the coffee table.
She laughs, sinking into the couch next to me. “Well, what can I say? It works every time.”
I glance around the living room , where the white walls, wooden furniture draped in colourful rugs, and scattered flower pots, all evoke memories of days when I would spend hours here with my parents and sister.
Blinking back tears, I turn to Aunty. “How is Nisha? Did… did she wake up?” My voice wavers slightly with hope, despite knowing the answer.
“She’s still the same,” she replies softly. “ I know how desperately you’re waiting for her to wake up . Even these old eyes of mine are waiting for that little girl to open hers. I’ve heard countless stories about her from you. I want to experience it firsthand — her laughter and her mischief. In such a short time, you two have become my own, my family. Seeing her lying there like this pains me, it…” her voice falters , and I instinctively reach out to hold her trembling hand.
“Aunty, I know no one can replace my parents, but you’ve filled that void in a way I never thought possible, ever since my mom passed away. Having you here, taking care of us, means everything to me. I am truly fortunate to have you by my side, Aunty,” I reply, my voice catching slightly as I gently squeeze her hands, holding back tears. I am overwhelmed by the depth of our bond. It’s truly a stroke of luck to have found someone like Aunty. She doesn’t have any children of her own, and her husband passed away a few years ago, so she understands my pain of losing someone dear better than anyone else.
Her eyes soften and she pats my cheek tenderly. “You’ve been the daughter that I never had, one I never imagined I would be blessed with. I guess we’ve both hit the jackpot by finding each other,” she says adding humour to lighten the mood.
“Indeed,” I smile at her. She seems to be on the verge of saying something more, but then, she looks away, clears her throat, and then meets my gaze again.
“I bet you haven’t had dinner yet. And before you start fussing, let me tell you, you’re in for a treat. I’ve cooked your favourite chicken curry and rice.”
“God, my mouth is already watering!”
“Why don’t you go see Nisha first, then freshen up and come down for dinner?”
“Thank you, Aunty. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I say softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Now, go on and hurry up,” she says, rising to her feet.
I give her a nod, mirroring her movement. She turns and walks towards the kitchen, and I make my way down the hall to my sister’s room.
Stepping into the room, I take in the sight of my sister lying there, so still and peaceful, in her queen-sized bed, a machine beside her, monitoring her every breath . I let my eyes wander around the room before I make my way towards her. The walls are painted her favourite shade of purple and cream, with matching furniture. Her bookshelf stands proudly in the corner, and the brown leather recliner I bought her for her fifteenth birthday, using my saved pocket money, still sits by the window, where she would spend hours lost in her books.
I quietly approach the bed, my heart aching as I plop on the chair beside her bed. Gently, I take her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” I whisper softly. “I know how much you loved playing pranks and teasing me. Even now, you’re probably enjoying troubling me. But, Nisha, please stop this game and wake up. I miss you so much. Every day feels like an eternity without you. The house feels so empty and quiet without your laughter and your mischief.”
I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You know, we have a new member in our family now. You have to meet Aunty; she’s wonderful. You’ll love her. She is taking such good care of us and has become like a second mom. And what’s more, she loves you so much already.” Tears blur my vision as I continue, “ I keep thinking about all those times we spent together , reading by the window, gardening with Mom, and just being silly. Nothing is the same without you. I need you to wake up, Nisha. I need to hear your voice, see your smile, and feel whole again. I know you’re fighting in there, and I believe in you. Please, come back to us. Aunty and I are waiting for you.” I gently squeeze her hand, hoping she can somehow feel my love and desperation. “I love you, Nisha. Please, we need you here with us,” I whisper, dropping my head onto her shoulder and squeezing my eyes shut, as bittersweet memories flood my heart.