65. Ghosts Of Seven Years #2
"Actually, he's upstairs." The man checked his watch. "Let me call him."
He stood up and turned toward the staircase. Before he could take more than two steps, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall.
Finally.
I released a small sigh and stood turning toward the staircase.
A tall man was descending the final few steps. At first, I only noticed the expensive watch on his wrist.
Then the sharp jawline. Then the familiar eyes. And suddenly every sound around me disappeared. My breath lodged somewhere in my throat.
This is Udayveer Ranawat. He saw a few samples of your work in an exhibition video and personally asked me to contact you."
The man beside me informed proudly.
I managed a small nod.
What on earth was happening in my life?
If my father was alive, standing right in front of me, then why was Ms. Arora living separately with Naanu?
Why wasn't she using his surname? Why had nobody mentioned him?
My head started hurting. Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on the man standing before me.
His eyes remained fixed on the painting.
Didn't he recognize me? Mumma recognized me within seconds. Naanu recognized me eventually.
But him? Nothing.
Did he forget me? The thought stung. How could he? I was his daughter. Or at least I used to be.
"This is a masterpiece." His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He turned toward me with a bright smile.
The same smile I remembered from childhood.
The same smile that used to make me run into his arms.
"My wife is going to love this."
Wife?
My brows furrowed. Did he mean Mumma?
Before I could think further, he looked toward one of the servants. "Go call Madam."
The servant nodded and disappeared upstairs.
A minute later, footsteps echoed through the hall.
A woman walked downstairs.
Beautiful. Elegant. Confident and completely unfamiliar.
"See, darling?" My father wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "This is your birthday gift."
The woman looked at the painting and gasped happily.
"Oh my God. It's beautiful."
She looked genuinely delighted. Then she leaned into him naturally. Comfortably. Like she belonged there. Like she had been belonging there for years.
My stomach twisted painfully. So this was his wife. Not my Mumma.
Not the woman he once claimed he couldn't live without. Not the woman for whom he used to bring flowers every week.
Not the woman whose hand he used to hold under the dining table when they thought nobody was watching.
Someone else.
A completely different woman.
What happened? How could everything change so much?
The man who used to look at my mother as if she hung the moon in the sky was now looking at someone else the same way.
My father turned toward his assistant.
"Prepare the cheque."
The assistant immediately handed him the book.
After signing it, he extended the cheque toward me.
"We are extremely happy with your work, Ms. Rathore. We'll definitely approach you again in the future."
I stared at his signature.
A few minutes ago, I had imagined running into his arms. Telling him I was Dhwani. His daughter.
But now...Now I can't do any of it. I folded the cheque carefully and slipped it into my bag.
"Thank you," I managed. I turned around and walked away.
I barely remembered reaching the car. The moment I settled inside, I shut the door.
"Drive."
The driver looked at me through the mirror.
"Ma'am?"
"Just drive."
The car pulled away.
I rolled the window down and inhaled deeply.
One breath.
Then another.
Then another.
But the tightness in my chest refused to disappear.
I didn't know what I was feeling.
Shock.
Confusion.
Anger.
Nothing.
Everything.
I wasn't even sure anymore.
The strange thing was, seeing him hadn't hurt the way seeing Mumma had.
When I saw her at Raizada Mansion, it felt like someone had ripped open an old wound.
But seeing him...
It felt empty.
Like looking at a stranger wearing my father's face.
Because if I still had feelings for Mumma after all these years even if it hatred, why did I feel nothing for him?
My head fell back against the seat.
How can a man who claims to love you like the moon loves stars change?
What happened that they ended up living separate lives?
And why did I have this horrible feeling that somehow.....Somewhere......I was standing in the middle of that story?
The thought made my stomach twist.
Because if I was the reason everything broke...
I didn't know how I was supposed to live with that.
?????
"Mr. Raizaada, you don't have to behave aggressively in the courtroom," Mumma said, looking at Yugant.
"The opposing lawyer will try their best to provoke you. They will question your decisions, your marriage, your character, maybe even your family. Their goal won't be proving their case. Their goal will be making you lose your temper. So stay calm."
I sat there with a cup of coffee in my hands that had gone cold a long time ago.
It was late at night, and I had been sitting there for more than an hour. Silently listening to their conversation.
Or maybe not listening. Maybe just looking at her.
"I promise, I will stay calm," Yugant assured.
She nodded and opened another file. "I've collected all the evidence, including the wedding footage showing Olivia and Adhvait together. We will use that against them. But make sure Vedika is present in court tomorrow."
"Everyone will be there."
"I didn't mean present, Mr. Raizaada."
Yugant raised a brow.
"I mean safe, available, and protected. As I told you before, Kingsleys are dangerous people. We might win this case in the first hearing, or it may drag on for months. We don't know. That's why I've prepared three copies of every piece of evidence. If by any chance one set goes missing,
or one of us faces a problem reaching court, we still have enough to fight."
"We will reach and we will win," I spoke up. "You don't have to keep talking as if something bad is going to happen."
Three pairs of eyes turned to me.
Of course I didn't want anything to happen.
Not to Yugant.
Not to Ishaan.
Not even to her.
Her eyes softened for a moment before she looked away.
"It doesn't matter what we want. Anything can change at the last moment, and sometimes we lose in life even when we win."
Why does it sound so personal?
She closed the file in front of her and stood up.
"I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong. After that, I'll finish the work I started and leave the same way I came. There is no reason for me to stay."
The words were simple. But the meaning behind them felt far too heavy.
I placed my cold coffee cup on the table and left the study.
After freshening up, I stepped into the balcony.
I rested my arms on the railing and looked at the empty driveway below. From there, I saw Ishaan's car leaving through the mansion gates.
My eyes stayed on it long after it disappeared.
Who could tell me what happened seven years ago? What was so terrible that my parents, who once looked inseparable, ended up living completely different lives?
Who knew the truth? Maybe Naanu.
Mumma was living with him. If anyone knew everything, it had to be him. But would he tell me?
I was so lost in my thoughts that when a hand touched my shoulder, I jumped.
"Relax. It's me." Yugant's calm voice reached me.
I turned around. "Are you alright?"
I nodded immediately. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Before I could react, he stepped forward, trapping me between himself and the glass railing. "What's the matter? Tell me."
I looked away. I didn't want to worry him. Not now. Not when tomorrow was such an important day.
But everything was becoming too much.
The questions.
The confusion.
The fear.
I wanted to share it with someone. And right now, that someone could only be him.
"You'll always stay with me, right?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His fingers moved to my cheek and neck, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Of course I will."
A sad smile touched my lips. "He used to say that too."
Yugant frowned. "He?"
"My father."
Even saying "my father" felt unfamiliar after all these years.. "I met him today."
His brows shot up. "What?"
"He was the one who ordered the painting." I swallowed. "For his second wife."
For a moment, Yugant said nothing.
"Why do you care? You hate her anyway."
"Hating doesn't mean I wanted this." My voice came out louder than intended.
"I just..." I exhaled slowly. "I want to share what I'm feeling with someone. I just don't know whom to trust."
The moment the words left my mouth, regret followed.
I saw the change in his face instantly. The crease between his brows deepened. "Am I not standing right in front of you?"
My chest tightened. "Yugant-"
"Can't you trust me?"
God. That wasn't what I meant. Not even close.
I immediately stepped closer and cupped his face.
"I trust you. More than myself."
His jaw remained tight.
"I just don't want to stress you anymore. You're already stuck in this mess because of me."
"For fuck's sake, stop blaming yourself, woman."
His voice wasn't loud. But it was sharp enough tomake me freeze. "My Dhwani wasn't like this." I looked at him. "I wanted to be your safe place." His eyes locked with mine. "Not the person you shut out every time it's about you."
The words hit harder than any accusation.
"I wanted to be the one you came to when things hurt."
His gaze softened for a brief second.
"But every time it's your pain, your fears, your past, you build walls so high that even I can't reach you."
I lowered my eyes. Because he wasn't wrong. Not even a little.
"When it's about me, you break every wall without thinking twice." He laughed bitterly. "But when it's about you, suddenly I'm treated like an outsider."
I wanted to tell him that wasn't true. That I wasn't doing it intentionally. That I was trying.
But the words never came because deep down... I knew he was right.