Chapter 21
Kavya
Restless, I pace back and forth in my room, glancing at the clock . It’s almost eight in the morning, and I should be getting dressed for work, but the turmoil inside me makes it impossible to focus on anything. Biting my nails, I think hard. Who on earth could it be? God, give me some clue here. Help me, please.
The sudden buzz from my phone interrupts the racing thoughts in my mind . My heart quickens as I rush to grab it off the nightstand . One glance at the screen, and my stomach drops. It’s a message from the number I’ve been dreading.
Unknown : Officer Viraj is digging deep and making my life hell. I need to disappear for a while, but I’ll contact you soon with my next move. Meanwhile, remember, I need you to stay quiet—not a word to him. Also, I expect you to get rid of him and have him off my back within the next couple of days. Make it happen.
My fingers tremble as I stare at the message. With a reluctant sigh, I type a reply, knowing I have no choice.
Me: I will do it, but I need a fair amount of time.
Unknown: Fifteen days is a good amount of time, but not a day more. And I presume you’re as intelligent as your sister —after all, she was the top performer of her college .
I tighten my grip on my mobile. He knows every damn thing. Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I clench my phone, ready to hurl it across the room , when suddenly something strikes me. ‘College? Nisha?’ I mutter to myself, the wheels turning in my mind. ‘Yes, I need to search her room; I may find something there.’
Throwing my mobile onto the bed, I step out of my room and head down to Nisha’s room. As I push open the door , I see Sunita Aunty wrapping up Nisha’s sponge bath.
“Morning, baby,” she smiles, carrying the small tub of water in her hand. Her eyes flicker over my attire, and she frowns. “You’re still not dressed for office? Are you feeling okay?” she asks, taking in my track pants and t-shirt.
I offer her a faint smile as I walk further into the room, settling beside her . “I am fine, Aunty. I thought I’d go to the office a bit later. I wanted to go through Nisha’s stuff and see if I could find something to donate to the orphanage. Maybe we’ll receive some blessings, and Nisha will wake up soon. You’ve been telling me for so long, and I’ve always been putting it off, so I thought of doing it today.”
Aunty’s expression softens. “Do you want me to help you?” she asks, concern evident in her voice. She knows how difficult it is for me to go through Nisha’s things, especially since I haven’t touched her things since the accident . In fact, Aunty was the one who gave away my parents’ belongings to the orphanage, but I’ve been adamant about holding on to Nisha’s things so that when she wakes up, she’ll find everything just as she left it . Nor I have ever felt the need to pry into her stuff, as I never suspected it to be a planned murder. I always thought my parents and sister were at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“No, I’ve got this. I want to do it alone, Aunty. I hope you understand.”
“I understand. You go ahead. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of breakfast,” she smiles, giving me a kiss on my forehead before stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind her.
I let out a shaky breath and gaze down at my sister, bending to kiss her forehead. I place my hand on her cheek and whisper, “Please help me, Nisha. Please help me find some clue, something —anything .”
Straightening up, I look around her room, my heart pounding in my chest as I am not exactly sure where to start. My gaze falls on her desk, and I walk up to it, starting to rifle through notebooks and papers. Nothing out of the ordinary —just the usual jumble of her college work and random notes. Damn! Frustrated, I turn around and move to her dresser, opening each drawer. My hands shake slightly as I sift through her belongings. Nothing here either. Feeling defeated, I huff, ‘How foolish of me to believe I’d stumble upon a stroke of luck.’
Disappointed, I am about to give up when my eyes land on her laptop sitting on the nightstand . It was her prized possession, a gift from our parents, which she always kept close to her.
Crossing my fingers, I pick up the laptop and carefully sit next to Nisha on the bed. When I open the screen, I find it dead. I quickly pull the charger from the nightstand drawer, plug it in, and wait with bated breath. The screen lights up, and to my relief, it’s not password protected . Looking up from the laptop screen, I give my sister a smile, reminiscing that Nisha was never the one for high-tech security. I recall how I always teased her about how I was better with gadgets . Pushing the memory aside, I drop my gaze back to the laptop.
Biting my lip, I go through her files, searching for anything that might give me a clue. Then I open her browser and see the shortcut for her email. I click on it, desperately hoping she’s still logged in. To my relief, her email opens right up.
I browse through her inbox when my eyes fall on a string of messages from someone called ‘ Your Admirer .’ I pause to take a closer look, feeling a creepy vibe that makes my skin crawl as I open each email and read through it carefully.
Nisha, we need to talk. Meet me at the usual spot in college.
I’ve seen you staring at me in class.
Stop ignoring me. You can’t hide forever.
Don’t think you’re safe at the campus. You can’t escape me.
My breath catches in my throat. ‘ What the hell? There was someone tormenting her,’ I whisper to myself before I read the last message, sent on the day of her accident.
This ends today.
A chill runs down my spine as I shut the laptop and look again at Nisha. “Why? Why Nisha? Why didn’t you ever tell me someone was after you ? Why did you keep it a secret?” I ask her with tears in my eyes, even though I know she can’t reply back.
As I wipe my tears away, I find myself pondering—something doesn’t quite add up. Nisha was never one to keep things to herself. We were close, and she would share everything with me. So why did she hide this? I always thought I was someone she would always confide in, besides her stupid diary. Diary...
I quickly rise from the bed and kneel beside the nightstand. Opening the bottom drawer, I find her small leather-bound journal hidden beneath a pile of novels. Flipping through the pages, I see it’s filled with Nisha’s neat handwriting. Most of it is mundane, daily entries, but my eyes pause at a page that reads:
He’s making my life hell. I saw him in the college locker room today. He was... he was... I am scared. I need to tell someone, but who?
I turn the page.
He’s becoming more aggressive. I don’t know what to do. He’s even following me.
The last entry is dated the day before the accident .
I am meeting him after I get back from my family trip. I need to put an end to this.
Tears blur my vision again . She had been so scared, so alone, and I had no idea. My anger boils over, not just at the person torturing her, but at myself for not being there for her—for being oblivious to her hidden struggle . I am a horrible sister.
But no, this is not the time to blame myself. I have a mission. I have to find out who this person is.
I am about to put the journal back when something slips from its pages and lands on the floor, catching my eye —a photograph. Slowly, I pick up the photograph and see it’s a picture of Nisha at a café, taken from a distance. The café in the photo was ‘Coffee Lover,’ a place Nisha loved and visited often. I turn it over and notice something scribbled in messy handwriting.
I always know where to find you.
My blood runs cold. This person had been stalking her, keeping tabs on her every move , even at her college. My heart thumps in my chest as I re-read her diary entries.
I’ve seen you staring at me in class.
Meet me at the usual spot in college .
This means the person is someone who studied at her college— someone close enough to know her schedule and make her feel uneasy . The danger suddenly feels much more real. But I’m not going to let him get away with this. Not this time.
Placing everything back in its place, I let my brain do the thinking. I need to visit Nisha’s college and get a hold of her classmate list.
???
After a quick breakfast and a quick excuse to Aunty about not finding anything suitable to donate, I grab my keys and head out. An hour later, I find myself driving to Nisha’s college, which is about twenty minutes from my place. I had already messaged Akash earlier to let him know that I would be late to the office. Thankfully, he was okay with it.
As I pull up at the signal, my eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and there he is—Karan Singh, my so-called bodyguard. I couldn’t help but shake my head, recalling how I’d stepped out of the house and was greeted by Mr. Hulk. I suppress a giggle at the nickname I’ve given him, but honestly, it suits him perfectly . Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with a thick, well-trimmed beard that almost obscured half his face. But the next second, my smile turns into a frown at the thought of him following me. I am still questioning Reyansh’s decision to have a bodyguard, but I know it’s not a battle I can win. Besides, right now, I have other pressing concerns to focus on, and the bodyguard seems to be the least of my worries.
As the signal turns green, I shift the car into gear and drive off. Deep down, I know I should call Officer Viraj and inform him about this, but I can’t afford to take the threats lightly. What if the sender finds out I contacted Officer Viraj? No, for now, I must handle this on my own. Perhaps later, once I have more information, I can figure out a way to discreetly discuss it with Officer Viraj.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the college parking lot. Stepping out of the car, I signal Karan to wait for me here while I make my way into the college. Entering the campus, I head straight to the office. It’s college hours now, and I catch sight of a few students bustling about, chatting and laughing as if they have no worries at all.
As I approach the office door, I spot a woman in her thirties, dressed in formal pants and a silk shirt, typing away on her laptop. I knock gently and step inside.
“Hi, I am Kavya,” I say, giving her a friendly smile.
She looks up from her laptop and gives me a bored look. “Yes, what can I do for you?”
Her rudeness makes me frown, but I try to stay focused on the reason I am here. “ Could I please get the list of all the student from last year’s B. Com batch, section A ?”
“Do you have permission from the principal?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” I say hesitantly.
“Then I am sorry, I can’t help you,” she says dismissively, turning her attention back to her laptop.
“If you can show me the way to the principal’s office, I’ll get the permission,” I suggest.
“She’s on leave. She’ll be back in four days. You can come then,” she replies, not even looking up.
Damn! She’s testing my patience. However, I choose to remain calm and polite. “Please, ma’am, it’s really important,” I implore.
“I am sorry, but such things take time. They don’t happen with the snap of a finger,” she says, finally looking up from her screen.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I ask, “How long?”
She shrugs. “One hour, one week, one month, or maybe even a year?”
I open my mouth to give her a piece of my mind when a baritone voice cuts through, interrupting me.
“I don’t think it should take that long to give my wife the information she needs,” a deep, authoritative voice fills the room.
I glance over my shoulder to see Reyansh walking over to stand beside me. My heart does a little flip at the mention of him calling me his wife , but I ignore my stupid heart. Instead, I ask him, “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be there whenever you need me,” he says, kissing my forehead and wrapping his hand around my waist. Then he turns to the woman at the desk, who is now on her feet, trembling under Reyansh’s cold gaze.
“Good morning, Mr. Kk… Kundra?” she stammers.
“My wife needs some information. Would you mind giving it to her?” he asks, emphasising the word ‘wife,’ which makes my heart skip a beat once again, while the woman nods vigorously.
“Give me a moment, Mr. Kundra,” she gulps, typing frantically on her laptop. The printer whirs, and soon she hands a sheet of paper to me .
“Thanks,” I say politely as I put the paper in my bag. I turn to Reyansh to tell him we can leave, but his eyes are still fixed on the woman.
“Well, Miss...” His voice trails off as he reads her name on the badge, his tone simmering with anger. “Jaya, how dare you think of showing that attitude to my wife and treating her with disrespect?”
She looks at me nervously, then drops her head to her feet. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she mumbles.
“It’s okay,” I say softly, not wanting to prolong this any further.
“It’s not okay, and your sorry is not good enough for me,” Reyansh adds firmly.
I glance at Reyansh, startled by his sternness. I’ve never seen this rude side of him before.
“Mr. Kundra, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know ma’am was your wife,” she says with trepidation.
“Doesn’t matter. As one of the top donors to your college, I am sure the college will happily grant my small request to have you fired from your job,” he says sharply, and I instinctively grab hold of his arm.
“Reyansh, that’s really not necessary,” I interject, trying to diffuse his anger.
“It is necessary. Let me handle this my way, sweetheart,” he tells me, then turns his focus back to Jaya.
“I suggest you start looking for a job elsewhere,” he says, paying no heed to her pleas. Giving her one last scornful look, he tightens his grip around my waist and ushers me out of the office. I let out a sigh once we reach my car.
“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh?” I ask, slipping into my car but leaving the door open.
With a smirk, he leans in, his body almost caging me in my seat. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart, is that I don’t spare anyone who dares to touch or hurt what’s mine.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, but instead of scaring me, they send butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
“You didn’t have to call me your wife.” The words escape my lips before I can stop them.
His eyes twinkle as his lips curl into a smile . “But I wanted to, and it did have a nice ring to it.”
“I am not your wife,” I point out, licking my lips nervously. God, his words and his proximity are making me jittery.
“I intend to rectify that soon,” he murmurs, his breath fanning my neck.
My eyes widen, and I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words.
“ Don’t overthink it; that’s a conversation for another day ,” he says, kissing my forehead before stepping back and closing my door.
I nod at him through the window, start my car, and pull out of the parking lot.
My pulse races and my stomach tightens as his words echo in my mind. ‘ I intend to rectify that soon. ’ Did he really mean it... does he actually want to marry me? The mere thought of being his wife sends my heart and brain into a frenzy. They both scream that with him, my life could be the beautiful dream I’ve always longed for but never had the courage to chase.