Chapter 2

3 months ago

Pearl_Oyster

@Pearl_Oyster

March 2005, Lucknow

She lay on the bed, clutching her stomach as a wave of pain swept through her. Her body felt fevered and her insides twisted in knots. She barely noticed the warden’s sharp gaze boring into her.

“Get up, Khushi. You are not fooling me this year,” the warden’s clipped tone broke through the haze of discomfort.

She tried to speak, to explain, but her voice faltered.The pain was overwhelming, and she could only clutch tighter at her stomach.

“I don’t think she is acting, Didi,” came Arnav’s voice, quiet and concerned. He was standing beside the warden, his face drawn with worry.

Khushi dared to open her eyes for a moment and saw his familiar boyish face etched with an earnestness that made her want to cry harder.

The warden, however, was unmoved. “Both of you are acting,” she snapped, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “This happens every year. If it is your birthday, she gets sick to skip classes, and if it is her birthday, you do the same. It is not going to work this time. Get up, Khushi, and go to school!”

She wanted to protest, to explain that this was not the game they usually played. But her voice betrayed her again, replaced by a low moan.

“My stomach hurts, Didi,” she managed to whisper.

“It is probably because of the pani-batashe,” Arnav chimed in, rushing to her side. “I told you not to drink the extra water. It was too spicy.”

Khushi whimpered in response, too pained to reply.

The warden’s patience snapped. “You have become a drama queen, Khushi. And this boy—he is a terrible influence on you! Consider this your last warning. If you do not get off that bed right now—”

Her words faded as the pain in Khushi’s stomach sharpened. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the warden would relent, but instead, she felt her arm being yanked.

“Let her rest!” Arnav’s voice rose, trembling with urgency. “I will help her with her lessons later, when she is better.”

The warden turned on him. “That is enough! You children think you can tell me what to do?” Her grip tightened as she dragged Khushi upright.

“Want to fool me so you can skip classes and celebrate his birthday together? Huh? Let me show you—”

Khushi felt herself being hauled forward, her body too weak to resist. The room spun, and before she could gather her strength, her knees buckled. She hit the floor with a painful thud.

“Chii!” The warden recoiled with disgust, her expression twisted as she noticed the blood staining Khushi’s clothes and pooling on the sheets.

“Khushi!” Arnav’s panicked voice broke through the chaos. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as they hovered over her.

“Are you hurt? What is happening? There is so much blood—”

She couldn’t look at him. Shame burned hotter than the pain in her abdomen. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she curled into herself, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

The warden, however, was unmoved. “Get out, you petulant fool! Go play with the boys!” She seized Arnav by the ear, dragging him away despite his protests.

“But Khushi—”

“Stay away from her! She is not a child anymore. Go and send Radha here,” the warden ordered before shoving Arnav out of the room and slamming the door shut.

Khushi buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled by her palms. The pain, the humiliation, and the warden’s scorn was too overwhelming.

.

.

.

Khushi awoke with a start, her chest heaving as the memory dissolved into the dim quiet of her room. For a moment, the ache in her stomach felt real, and the warden’s harsh voice echoed in her ears.

She sat up slowly, pressing her palm to her forehead. Her heart still pounded, but the pain was gone, replaced by a dull weight in her chest.

Arnav.

His name slipped into her thoughts, unbidden but persistent. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock on her bedside table— 3:27 a.m. There night still stretched on, heavy and silent, but sleep was no longer within reach.

She lay back down, staring at the ceiling. The memory of that day at the orphanage lingered, vivid and unrelenting. She thought of Arnav’s face as he had pleaded with the warden, his eyes wide with worry. Even then, he had been her protector, her anchor. She closed her eyes and recalled rest of that fateful day.

She had been mortified that he had seen her in that condition. She had avoided him the entire day, only to be found by him when she was trying to slip into the mess to check whether they were serving any dessert that night.

Her stomach was still hurting, a constant, nagging ache that refused to fade. She had tried to ignore it earlier, but it had only grown worse. She couldn’t focus on anything else—just the throbbing discomfort deep inside, hoping that eating something sweet might help.

She had slipped into the mess but much to her disappointment there was nothing sweet. She had been leaving, heading back to the dormitory when he had called after her.

"Khushi."

She had looked up, and there he was, running toward her with concern written all over his face. His eyes had searched hers, always looking for any sign of distress, always so protective. "How are you? Are you still in pain? Radha Didi told me you needed rest and I should not bother you" He had asked.

She bit her lip, trying to push down the discomfort."Yes! It still hurts, but less than the morning. Radha didi said I will be okay in a couple of days," she had replied, not meeting his eyes. She didn’t want him to see how fragile and ashamed she felt right then.

He didn’t press her for more.

Instead, he reached out and took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Come, let us go inside. We can have our dinner"

She didn’t feel like eating, not at all. The thought of mess food didn’t appeal to her. "I don’t feel like eating."

"I see," he had said, voice gentle but determined."What do you want to eat?"

She shook her head, her throat tight. "No, nothing." Not wanting to demand anything.

"Come on," he said softly, leading her toward the common hall. "Let’s go sit there. It’ll be quieter at this time"

"What about your dinner?" she had asked, still reluctant to leave the doorframe.

"I will eat later. Come now," he had urged and she had followed without protest.

Once they had reached the common hall, it was sparesely. A few kids were sitting down, watching TV. Both of them got seated in a corner. After the clatter of utensils and the loud noise of the mess, the quiet space felt like a relief to Khushi.

She was sitting down quietly and had watched Arnav reach into his pocket and pull out a large chocolate bar. "Here," he said, unwrapping it.

"But this is yours! It is your birthday," she had protested, shaking her head, surprised whether he had read her thoughts about wanting to eat something sweet.

"So? This is big enough for the both of us." He broke the chocolate in half, handing her the larger piece. His smile was soft, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to share with her. Even his birthday chocolate!

"Chocolate will make you feel better," he had said, his voice full of sincerity.

"It will?" she had asked, looking at him, still unsure. Did he know what she was going through?

He continued looking at her, as if wanting her to know that he understood, that he wasn’t just giving her the chocolate; he was offering her comfort in a moment where he could do nothing more.

She had kept her gaze down, eating the chocolate as he told her that he had seen the girls in his class eating chocolates and toffees whenever they got stomachaches. So, he knew. And he was not disgusted with her like the warden.

Her eyes had stung, as she had realised that he still cared for her. And then, without warning, she had thrown her arms around him in a quiet hug.

"I am sorry I ruined your birthday, Arnav," she had whispered, the words full of regret.

He had gently patted her head, his fingers brushing herhair. "You can make up for it on my next birthday," he had said witha smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Her voice had dropped to a quiet, almost defeated tone."If you don’t get adopted by then."

His smile had faded too. He didn’t like talking about getting adopted. It was a reality they both knew too well.

"You still think that can happen, Khushi? No one wants to adopt kids as old as we are. Everyone wants babies. When our parents didn’t want us as babies, why would anyone want us as grown-up children?"

She had always held onto a faint hope, a belief that maybe someone, somewhere, would take them in. But Arnav didn’t share that belief. He had closed himself off from it long ago.

"Maybe they wanted to keep us but they could not",she had whispered, not willing to accept what Arnav had. They were unwanted children, a burden to those who birthed them.

He had shaken his head, the familiar sadness settling in. "Let us not get into this again today. I am not getting adopted, and neither are you. We are going to spend all our birthdays together." He had smiled at her, the weight of the world still resting on his shoulders.

"And I am going to take care of you since I am older. Okay?"

The words he had spoken that day still echoed in her mind. In that moment, it had been a promise born out of innocence, out of friendship. But it had meant something to her, something deep within her chest, like a fragile thread that connected them. Both of them had not been aware that promises can rarely withstand the weight of time. She had found it out eventually.

When Arnav had been offered a home, a real family, he had taken the opportunity. As anyone would have in the blink of an eye. It did not matter that he had always been pessimistic about it. Deep inside, all of them longed for love. So, when he had chosen to leave, she had been upset as a child. But, as time had gone by, she had realised that how her anger had been misplaced. She was, in fact, glad that he had found a way out from the grim cycle of waiting and wondering about their future at the orphanage.

Unfortunately for her, the story had been different. Her fate had kept her chained to that same life for another year, until her Buaji had found her and taken her in. She had been blessed with love too, until all of it had been cruelly snatched from her by her fate.

With a steady breath, she wiped away the memories and the ache in her chest. She had her life now, one she had built herself. She willed the sleep to come so she could wake up again and prepare for another day.

...

Next morning, when she reached the office, she was greeted not by the familiar quiet rhythm of a Tuesday morning but by a hum of excitement rippling through the air. The usual monotony had been replaced by a palpable buzz. Something was different, and it wasn’t long before she found out why.

“What is going on?” she asked, stopping by Akash’s cubicle, curiosity tugging at her voice.

Akash looked up with a shine in his eyes. “Arnav Singh Raizada is in the office.”

The words seemed to freeze the air around her, rendering her breathless. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the cubicle wall.

“Here?” she managed, her voice quick.

“Yes, but not on our floor. He is here to meet his father, apparently,” Akash elaborated, shrugging casually as though he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

She nodded, but her mind had already started spinning. Arnav. The name lingered, reverberating through her like an echo in an empty hall. This was the closest she had been to him in thirteen years. The coincidence was too sharp to ignore—she had dreamt of him just last night, his face vivid and alive in her memory, and now he was here, in the same building.

In the six months she had worked at Raizada Textiles, Arnav Singh Raizada had never once visited the office. Fate, it seemed, had chosen this moment to meddle with her hard-won stability. First Shyam, now Arnav. A bitter smile curled at the corners of her lips as she pushed the thought aside. No, she wouldn’t place Arnav and Shyam in the same breath. They were worlds apart—one a distant memory of comfort in an otherwise fractured childhood, the other a scar on her soul she wished she could erase.

She was still lost in her thoughts when Akash tapped his desk to draw her attention back.

“We have a meeting with Rakshit and Ms. Kashyap in an hour,” he said.

Khushi blinked, snapping out of her reverie. “What for? I don’t recall seeing anything about this on my calendar.” She unlocked her phone and quickly checked, her brow furrowing.

“I know. Rakshit filled me in a few minutes ago. He doesn’t know much about the agenda either. Ms. Kashyap is chairing the meeting, and Mr. Raizada will also be present,” Akash added, oblivious to how his words made Khushi’s pulse race.

“Mr. Raizada?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

“Arvind sir,” Akash clarified hastily, noticing her reaction. “Not...Arnav.”

Relief washed over her, though it was fleeting. She wondered how much Akash knew about her days at the orphanage. She had only confided in Payal, and while she trusted her friend, she couldn’t help but wonder if Payal had shared more with Akash than she realized.

“Got it,” She replied, her tone steady once more. She reminded herself that she had nothing to worry about. Even though only a few times, she had been in the same room as Arvind Singh Raizada before, including the one where he had personally handed her a bonus check at the year-end party. In her brief interactions with him, he had struck her as a man of integrity and warmth, a far cry from the intimidating figure she had imagined.

She returned to her desk, determined to focus on her work until the meeting. But as the minutes ticked by, her resolve wavered. The thought of Arnav’s proximity was like a relentless tide, rising and falling, crashing against the walls of her mind. What would she even say if she did see him? Would he recognize her? Did she want him to? No answers came, only the erratic thrum of her heart, rebelling against every effort to calm it.

Her spiralling thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice.

“My star analyst is busy analyzing...what, exactly?”

She jumped in her seat, her pen slipping from her fingers. It was Rakshit, his amused grin adding to her embarrassment.

“Easy, Khushi, it’s just me,” he teased, clearly enjoying her startled reaction.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, gathering herself.

“Don’t be. I’ve come to fetch you personally for the meeting,” he announced. “Ms. Kashyap will be there with Mr. Raizada. And it’s my job to make sure my team shines. Come on, tenth floor. Akash is already there. Akansha’s team will be joining us too.”

She nodded, grabbing her notepad and pen as she rose from her seat. She followed Rakshit through the bustling office, her steps measured, her heart anything but. The anticipation coiled tightly in her chest, her nerves thrumming like a taut wire. Was it possible that she will run into Arnav on the way to the meeting? Or on the way out?

The elevator ride to the tenth floor was a blur. She tried to focus on the task ahead, to convince herself that this was just another meeting. But no amount of reasoning could shake the feeling that today, something was about to change.

As she stepped off the elevator onto the tenth floor, the air seemed to shift again—sleeker, sharper, more charged with authority. This was a space where decisions were made, a far cry from the warm, familiar hum of her own floor. Her nerves prickled at the back of her neck, but she pressed forward, her notepad clasped tightly in her hands.

Akash was already waiting by the glass doors, flanked by Pam, Ms. Kashyap's chatty assistant. Pam gave Khushi a cursory glance beforere turning to her phone.

“So, everyone is here? Let us go in" said Rakshit.

The four of them entered the conference room together, a sleek expanse of mahogany and glass. The walls were lined with muted artwork, and a long table stretched across the center of the room, gleaming under the recessed lighting. She immediately noticed that there were two Raizadas seated at the far end of the table, instead of one.

Her steps faltered as she held Arnav in her sight, her heart thrumming. He was here in the meeting, reading whatever was placed in front of him.

As she stepped further into the room, his gaze lifted: sharp and assessing. He was looking directly at her, and then she caught the unmistakable flicker of shock in his eyes as he recognised her.

For her, the moment was surreal, as though she had stepped into the pages of a story she had tried to leave behind. The years seemed to collapse, leaving her standing once again in the orphanage hall, clutching a piece of chocolate he had pressed into her hands. But this was no childhood memory. This was the present, where the boy she once knew was now a man of power and prestige, and she was no longer the girl who had shared a deep friendship with him.

She steadied herself and schooled her features into polite neutrality, willing her heartbeat to slow. Whatever was happening inside her—a storm of disbelief and nostalgia—it would not show.

Arnav, however, seemed surprisingly less adept at masking his emotions. She could see it in the faint crease between his brows, the way his gaze lingered on her a fraction too long before snapping back to the table. He looked rattled. It was a strange comfort, knowing she was not alone in this whirlwind of unexpected recognition. Some part of her was content that he remembered her, recognised her.

“Take a seat,” Rakshit whispered beside her, nodding toward the chairs closer to the door. She slipped into one, her hands resting on the table to keep them from fidgeting. She didn’t dare glance at Arnav again, though her peripheral vision was acutely aware of him.

Ms. Kashyap, ever poised and confident, stood at the head of the table and began with introductions. “Good morning, everyone. I’d like to start by introducing our core team from market research department. Rakshit, Akansha,Rahul, Akash, Khushi, and Soniya have been instrumental in shaping our exportpolicy this year. Today’s discussion, however is going to be focused on how we can use the insights from their research and apply it towards the growth of ARA- ASR's brand", pointing needlessly towards Arnav.

Khushi tried not to bristle as she realised what was happening in the meeting. The self-control that she had summoned from every corner of her being and used it to keep her gaze firmly on Ms. Kashyap, slipped at the mention of ARA and Arnav.

Her gaze shifted towards Arnav and she found him looking at her with indecipherable eyes. His expression was inscrutable, his jaw set, but there was no mistaking the questions swirling in his mind.

How are you here? He seemed to be asking.

She looked away quickly, focusing on the slides Ms. Kashyap was presenting, though the words blurred into a haze. Time moved in stutters, the meeting dragging and rushing in equal measure. It wasn’t until Arvind Singh Raizada leaned forward that the room seemed to collectively exhale.

“I would like to take a moment,” Arvind Singh Raizada began, his voice deep and assured, “to formally introduce someone I am sure most of you already know. My son, Arnav Singh Raizada.”

There was a ripple of acknowledgment around the room, polite smiles and murmurs of greeting. She remained frozen.

“Arnav has built ARA from the ground up, and I could not be prouder of what he has achieved. His work ethic and business sensibility has allowed him to reach the heights I had not even thought of. But now, he wishes to expand his business even further and build a deeper connection with Raizada Textiles. Our companies have worked independently, but as my son envisages it, we can work as one, at least to some extent. Since I am old and soon to retire, he will anyway be taking over Raizada Textiles in the coming future. This meeting here, is an attempt to put our heads together and figure out how the two companies can support each other. Being a fabric manufacturer and exporter, we will be supplying all fabric demands to ARA henceforth. While this was already happening, as you must be aware, now we need to figure out a formal channel for this. Ms. Kashyap will be heading this and Arnav will be personally overseeing this transformation as well"

Khushi’s chest hollowed out and tightened as Arvind spoke. She risked another glance at Arnav and found him already looking at her. This time, his gaze was steadier, as if he had resolved something within himself.

The meeting continued, but for her it was no longer about strategies of bringing two companies closer. It was a silent reckoning, a confrontation of memories and questions she did not feel prepared to face.

As the meeting wound down, Arnav, who had been silent for most of the meeting, leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table. The motion drew everyone's attention, and the quiet murmur of voices ceased. His gaze swept across the room before settling momentarily—almost imperceptibly—on her.

“Thank you everyone for your presence and attention. This has been a productive discussion,” he began, his tone calm but commanding. “As explained by Mr. Raizada, I look forward to learning from all of you so that together, we can create a legacy for ARA that RaizadaTextiles already possesses. All of you are welcome onboard" he continued, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We shall meet again soon".

Arvind Singh Raizada nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. Great work so far, everyone. Lavanya will be discussing the details with you".

As chairs scraped back and murmurs of thanks and goodbyes filled the room, Arnav straightened and took a step back, his attention seemingly fixed on some distant point. But as she stood, gathering her notepad and pen, she felt his gaze land on her again.

Rakshit said something to her—perhaps about heading back to their floor—but she barely registered it. Arnav’s voice cut through the buzz of the room, quiet but resolute.

“Khushi”

She froze mid-step, her heart lurching as she turned to face him.

“Yes, Mr. Raizada?” she replied, her voice calm, betraying none of the tempest churning inside her. What else was she supposed to call him in this office room full of her colleagues?

There was a pause, brief but loaded as his clouded eyes studied her, searching for something that she could not understand.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, holding back whatever he was going to say.

"ASR?" It was Ms. Kashyap who interrupted the silence that seemed to stretch forever.

His head turned away from her and she took it as the opportunity to walk away, well aware of the prying gaze of all of her colleagues along with the curious gaze of Mr. Arvind Singh Raizada.

She fell in line with Rakshit and Akash, ignoring their inquisitive looks.

As they exited the room together, her pulse pounded in her ears. Her feet carried her forward, but her mind lingered in that room, in the space where her world had collided with his after thirteen long years. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She had never imagined meeting him so suddenly, in front of so many people where she would be forced to pretend.

Once they were in the elevator, Akash leaned against the wall and let out a low whistle. “That was intense. I’m not sure if it’s Arnav Singh Raizada’s presence or the fact that both father and son were in the same room, but I could feel the pressure, man.”

Rakshit chuckled. “It is their way. The Raizadas don’t speak much, but when they do, it’s impossible not to listen.”

She nodded absently, her fingers curling around the edges of her notepad. She could still feel the weight of Arnav’s gaze, the unspoken questions that lingered between them.

“Are you okay, Khushi?” Akash asked in a softer voice when they had exited the elevator and Rakshit had walked ahead of them.

She blinked, meeting his concerned eyes. “Yeah. I am fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Not at all. Arnav’s presence had stirred her. She returned to her cubicle alongside Akash and Rakshit, her steps brisk and deliberate as if she could escape the weight pressing down on her chest.

She made every effort to appear composed, yet her thoughts churned relentlessly. Arnav was here, in the same building. The memory of his startled expression and the unguarded flicker of recognition in his eyes lingered, searing into her like a brand. She had felt the pull of his gaze throughout the meeting, its intensity both unsettling and familiar. What did it mean? Why was she affected ao much? Was it her guilt? For years, she had told herself that he would barely remember her, let alone recognise her. But it was evident that she had been lying to herself.

As she slid into her chair, she tried to focus on her laptop screen, but her mind was elsewhere, spinning with possibilities. What now? she wondered. Would he come to her? Would he demand to know where she had been, what had become of her?

The thought filled her with both dread and yearning. If he came, would he question her choices? Her silence all these years? Would he see her as a stranger now, detached from the girl he once knew? Or worse—would he look at her with pity?

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and then stretched into an hour, no one came. Her gaze flickered to the doorway every so often, and each time she felt a pang of disappointment she didn’t want to acknowledge. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he has grown beyond the bonds they had shared, the makeshift family they had been. Perhaps the past was only a distant chapter for him now, something he had tucked away along with the orphanage and all its bitter memories. Perhaps he had mastered the indifference she pretended to possess.

The thought stung more than she expected. Did it hurt because it meant she had been forgotten? Or because it confirmed her worst fear—that their shared childhood, once the brightest part of her fractured world, meant little to him now? She wasn’t sure if the pang in her chest was sorrow or relief.

The clack of footsteps broke into her thoughts, and she looked up to find a man standing before her cubicle. He was neatly dressed in a sharp gray suit, a professional smile softening his otherwise businesslike demeanor.

“Ms. Gupta?” he asked, his voice polite but firm.

“Yes?” she replied, her brows furrowing.

“I am Aman Mathur,” he introduced himself. “I am Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada’s assistant. He asked me to escort you. He is waiting for you in the conference room on the tenth floor.”

Her heart dropped, then soared, then dropped again, all in the space of a breath.

“Arnav Sir wants to meet me?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

“Yes,” Aman confirmed. “If you are free, I’ll take you there now.”

She hesitated, the weight of indecision settling over her. She could hardly think straight, let alone prepare herself for what awaited her. Still, she found herself rising from her chair, her body moving as though on autopilot.

She followed Aman through the hallways and up the elevator, her mind swirling with questions. Why now? Why alone? What did he want to say?The walk to the conference room felt endless, each step adding to the whirlpoolof curiosity and excitement in her heart.

When they reached the door, Aman stepped aside and gesturedfor her to enter. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as best she could, before pushing it open.

As she entered, the sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. Arnav stood near the window, his back to her, silhouetted against the sunlight streaming in through the glass. The moment he turned and their eyes met, her heart lurched painfully. His expression was no longer composed or distant—it was raw, open, and filled with an emotion she could only name as longing.

“Khushi,” he said softly, his voice a blend of disbelief and something deeper. Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them in three long strides and wrapped her in a fierce embrace.

Her breath hitched as she froze in his arms, utterly unprepared for the warmth and distant familiarity of his hold. She didn’t know what to do, her hands hovering awkwardly by her sides. But her body jerked into reaction the next second, unleashing the tears she was not aware she had been holding in for years.

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