Zindagi Ke Rang ~ Rangad/Kabirima/Amritam FF - chap 26 on pg 5 - Page 4

Chapter 15

Sehgal House

Meera stood in her room, glaring at the engagement ring lying on her palm—the one Angad had once slipped onto her finger with a promise. Her brows furrowed, frustration simmering in her chest.

"Why am I even bothered looking at this ring?" she muttered, turning away as if distancing herself could ease the ache. "He never truly understood me... or my feelings. All he ever did was disrespect my father and dismiss my pain. I don't need someone like him in my life."

With those words, she walked over to the dustbin. She stared at the ring for a long moment, her expression conflicted, but her anger hardened her resolve. She dropped it in.

Just then, her younger siblings Divya and Navin entered the room, calling her name. They immediately noticed the tension on her face.

"What's going on, Di?" Divya asked, concerned.

Meera rolled her eyes and waved them off. "Why are you both here? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Navin shrugged. "Kabir called. You didn't answer his mobile calls, so he tried the landline. Di, why do you even talk to guys like him? Seriously, Angad bhai is way better than—"

Meera spun around, cutting him off sharply. "Enough, Navin! Don't you dare talk like that about Kabir. And don't you ever compare him with Angad. At least Kabir understands me—something Angad never did, even when we were together."

Divya stepped in cautiously. "Di, I get it... Navin shouldn't have insulted Kabir. But I also think you're being unfair to Angad jiju. You keep expecting so much from him, but you're not trying to see his side either. It wasn't only his job to fix things between you two—it was a relationship. You both had responsibilities."

Meera's face tightened. Her anger flared, and her voice rose. "Enough, Divya! How dare you speak to me like that? You're still a child—what do you know about relationships? I'll handle my life on my own terms and decide who stays in it—Angad or Kabir! And stop calling him 'jiju'! He's not your jiju anymore!"

Hurt and silenced, Divya and Navin slowly walked out of the room. As they reached the hallway, Navin muttered under his breath, "You could've avoided that whole conversation. She never listens anyway. I like Angad bhai more than Kabir too, but it's her life. Let her do whatever she wants."

Divya sighed, her eyes moist. "She is our sister, bhai. And that means it's also our responsibility to correct her when she's wrong. I truly feel Meera di crossed the line with Angad jiju. She gave up without even trying."

Navin was about to reply, but Divya cut in, voice trembling. "Yes, I know he's not her fiancé anymore. But I still wish they'd talk it out and sort the misunderstandings. If Apa were here... maybe she could've helped Di see things more clearly."

Saying that, Divya walked away, her steps slow and heavy with sadness. Navin remained behind, silently replaying her words in his head.

Inside Meera's Room

Meera paced back and forth, visibly agitated. Her thoughts spiraled with the heat of unresolved emotions.

"I've had enough of Angad," she whispered fiercely. "I don't want to think about him, hear his name, or be reminded of him ever again."

But then, Navin's parting words echoed in her mind—"Find someone else, since Angad has now left you."

She scoffed to herself but couldn't ignore the sting of truth in that taunt.

"Navin may have said it in anger... but maybe he's right. Maybe I do need someone else in my life—someone who'll help me erase every memory of Angad. That's the only way to move on."

Still conflicted, Meera sat down at the edge of her bed, trying to bury the ache. But as the silence filled the room, the weight of her decision didn't bring the comfort she expected—it only deepened her turmoil.

Next Day – S & P Media

The atmosphere at S & P Media buzzed with energy as the team gathered around the conference room. Mr. Sethi, the head of the firm, stood at the center, beaming with pride.

"I want to take a moment to appreciate the incredible work done by Meera and Kabir on the latest ad campaign," he announced. "Their on-screen chemistry and teamwork have not only made the project a creative success but also brought in a record profit for the company!"

A round of applause erupted across the room. Meera and Kabir shared a proud smile, soaking in the moment of shared triumph. As the applause died down, Sethi gave them a final nod of approval and left, followed by the other team members who returned to their desks.

As the crowd thinned, Kabir leaned closer to Meera and said with a gleam in his eye, "See, Meera? We make a fantastic team. Whenever we're together, things just seem to fall into place."

Meera smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed with the compliment, but then Kabir—caught in the moment—blurted, "Honestly, Meera, I'm the best choice for you. You should've chosen me instead of Angad."

The words slipped out too quickly. Kabir's smile faded the moment he realized what he had said. Meera's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What did you just say?" she asked sharply.

Kabir stammered, trying to deflect, "Nothing—I just meant we work well together."

"And after that?"

"We... uh... we always make things work out the best," he mumbled weakly.

Without warning, Meera slammed her fists on the desk. The sound turned heads across the room. Kabir flinched. Realizing the attention she had drawn, Meera quickly composed herself. Once the others looked away, she turned back to Kabir, voice lowered but laced with fury.

"Didn't you just say I should've been with you instead of Angad?"

Kabir shifted uncomfortably. "No... I mean... when did I say that?"

Without a second thought, Meera grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him closer. "Don't lie to me, Kabir! Say it to my face—right now!"

Kabir was momentarily stunned, but something about being so close to Meera, her eyes blazing, stripped him of his restraint. He took a breath and confessed, softly at first, "Meera... I've liked you since we were kids. I don't know when it started, but I think it was when you always stood up for me—especially when your brother kept picking fights. You became that one person who always had my back."

His voice deepened with emotion. "Over the years, that liking turned into something more. I was going to tell you... but then your father came to our house with a proposal—for Angad. After that, I just kept everything buried. I never wanted to come between you two."

Meera was taken aback. Her lips parted, searching for words. "Do you... still feel the same way about me?"

Kabir looked into her eyes, startled by the question. "I don't know what to call it anymore, but I do know one thing—I feel at peace when I'm with you. That's why I joined S & P... I knew you were here."

Meera's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected that. "You joined the company... because of me?"

Kabir nodded, a little sheepish but unapologetic. "And if I still have feelings... would you consider giving us a chance?"

Meera stood silent, her thoughts in turmoil. Just yesterday, she had told herself she needed someone—anyone—to move on from Angad. And here Kabir was: a childhood friend, someone who truly understood her, someone who had loved her quietly for years.

He ticked all the boxes. Then why... why did her heart feel like it was bracing for a mistake?

She finally asked, hesitantly, "What about Dolly?"

Kabir chuckled nervously. "Honestly? I was just using her to distance myself from you. I liked her, but not the way I liked you."

Meera's stomach churned. Am I doing the same with Kabir now? she wondered. Am I using him to escape Angad? But before she could untangle the thoughts, Kabir interrupted.

"You're drifting. What are you thinking?" he asked gently. "Would you give us a shot—something more than friendship?"

Meera closed her eyes, trying to listen to the voice within. But instead of clarity, Angad's face appeared—his silence during her father's humiliation, Guneet's slap, the sting of betrayal. Her fists clenched.

"Yes," she said finally, "I want to give you a chance."

Kabir blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I mean... you were always there for me," she replied. "When Angad's family insulted my father, you stood by me. Not him."

Kabir's heart sank a little at the bitterness in her voice. He tried to gently offer a different view. "Look, Meera, Angad wasn't—"

"Oh please, not you too," she snapped. "I've had enough of Divya correcting me. I know he's your brother, but that doesn't justify what he did."

Kabir bit his tongue. She's still too angry to see things clearly. Maybe later, he thought.

"Okay," he said softly. "No more about Angad. Just... trust me?"

Meera nodded slowly.

"So... let's just focus on us?"

Meera offered a faint smile, and Kabir smiled back, relieved. While his heart soared, a tiny voice inside him whispered concern for his brother. He brushed it aside for now.

Days Later

The days that followed saw Kabir and Meera growing closer—lunch breaks turned into coffee dates, professional meetings into personal moments. Kabir was elated. Meera smiled more, laughed more. And yet, a quiet restlessness remained inside her—one she couldn't name.

Kabir noticed it too, but he said nothing. He wanted to believe love would be enough.

One afternoon, as Meera complimented Kabir for a kind gesture, he grinned and said, "That's actually something I picked up from Angad. You always liked it when he did that."

Meera's smile faded.

Seeing her expression change, Kabir quickly added, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring him up. I know he's your past and you're trying to move on. I won't mention him again."

He reached out and hugged her, hoping to offer comfort. Meera hugged him back, but her mind swirled with doubt.

Is Kabir right? Am I trying to find Angad in him? No... No, I've closed that chapter. I have to.

She clung to Kabir, as if holding him tighter would shut out the memories. Kabir closed his eyes in contentment, unaware that the woman in his arms was still fighting her own ghosts.

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To be continued.

Chapter 16

A Few Days Later – Café Al Forno

It was a sunny afternoon when Meera and Kabir stepped into Café Al Forno, a well-known spot near their office. They chose a cozy corner table, laughing and chatting as they settled in. The ambience was warm, the aroma of roasted coffee beans mingling with soft jazz playing in the background.

Unbeknownst to them, Angad was already there, seated at the far end of the café, finishing up a formal meeting with a client. As his client left with a handshake and a smile, Angad stood, gathered his files, and turned toward the exit—only to stop dead in his tracks.

There, in the opposite corner, sat Meera and Kabir.

His eyes widened for a moment. A flash of disbelief crossed his face. Slowly, he walked over, trying to compose himself.

Meera and Kabir, still immersed in their conversation, looked up and froze when they saw Angad approaching. Meera's smile faded, and Kabir shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Angad stopped at their table and, avoiding Meera completely, looked directly at Kabir. "What are you doing here?"

His tone was polite, but cold. Meera's expression darkened instantly at the deliberate snub.

"Why? Is there a problem if Kabir goes out for lunch with his colleague and best friend?" she shot back, her voice sharp.

Angad's brows furrowed in confusion. Colleague? He looked at Kabir, searching for an explanation.

Kabir avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable. Angad realized—this was the first time he was hearing that Kabir worked with Meera at S & P.

Meera, sensing the tension, added with a bitter edge, "What exactly is bothering you, Angad? That Kabir is here? Or that he shares a bond with your ex-fiancée that you no longer do?"

Angad's jaw tightened. "Why are you bringing that up here, Meera?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Why shouldn't I?" she snapped. "It's obvious you're not happy seeing Kabir getting along with me. If this is enough to make you uncomfortable, I wonder what you'll do when you find out I've moved on."

Her words hit like a hammer.

Angad looked at her, stunned. Kabir's eyes widened too—his heart racing with a mix of shock and fear.

Meera met Angad's gaze, her tone unrelenting. "What's that look for? Did you really think I wouldn't move on? You should too, Angad. Maybe then you'll stop showing up in my life uninvited."

Angad stood tall, holding back the pain that threatened to crack through his composure. He took a deep breath before responding.

"Fine," he said coolly. "I will find someone. And I have no issues with you doing the same. After all, you were my fiancée—not my possession. You're free to choose your own path."

He stepped closer, his voice low but piercing. "But remember, Meera—relationships are like glass. If not handled with care, they shatter in seconds. Just like ours did."

For a moment, the café went silent around them. Meera stared at him, momentarily stunned. But before she could reply, Angad turned and walked out, ignoring Kabir's voice calling after him.

Kabir sat frozen for a moment, then turned to Meera, visibly upset.

"What was the need to say all that?" he asked quietly. "You know he still loves you, Meera."

Meera scoffed, though her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. "Love? If he truly loved me, he would've understood me when I needed him the most."

Kabir let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead. "You still don't know the whole truth. And I don't even know how to tell you because you refuse to hear anything against KK Uncle. But trust me, Meera—Angad did love you. I saw it. Every single day."

For the first time, Meera felt a pang of guilt. Her anger had shielded her for so long that she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything else.

Sensing her silence, Kabir softened. "Let's not get into all that now," he said. "You told Angad today that you've moved on... and though part of me was scared you'd say too much, another part of me..."—he smiled, pulling her into an embrace—"was so happy. Because it means you've finally accepted what we have."

He hugged her tightly.

But this time, Meera couldn't bring herself to return the embrace. Her arms remained still at her sides, her heart caught in the whirlwind of guilt, confusion—and a faint, distant ache for the man who had just walked away.

Later That Afternoon – A Quiet Park

Angad drove aimlessly for a while, his thoughts swirling, his grip on the steering wheel tight. Eventually, he pulled up near a secluded city park. The sun filtered gently through the trees as children laughed in the distance and the breeze rustled the leaves—but none of it reached him.

He walked over to an empty bench and sat down, his heart weighed down with an ache he could no longer suppress. As soon as he was alone, the mask of strength fell from his face. His shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands, letting the tears fall—silently at first, then in quiet sobs.

Meera's words echoed mercilessly in his mind.

"I've moved on... Maybe you should too... Stop coming back into my life."

He clenched his fists, struggling to breathe through the pain. After a while, as he became aware of passersby casting sympathetic or curious glances in his direction, he quickly wiped his tears and straightened up, forcing composure onto his features.

Muttering under his breath, he said to himself, "Why am I even crying? It's her life. She has every right to move on... and I should too."

But the words felt hollow.

Then, as if fate decided to test his resolve, Meera's parting words surfaced again in his mind—"You should find someone else."

He laughed bitterly under his breath. "She's right. Maybe I should. Maybe that's the only way I can finally escape the grip her memories have on me."

Just then, his phone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly glanced at the screen—Sinha Sir.

Taking a deep breath and composing his voice, Angad answered, "Yes, Sir."

Sinha's voice came through, warm and enthusiastic. "Angad, I just heard from the client. He was really impressed with the presentation you gave. Great job!"

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Angad's face. "Thank you, Sir. He was very receptive and wants to move ahead with the project. I'll coordinate with his team going forward."

"Excellent," Sinha replied. "Also, a heads-up—my daughter Rima is returning from the UK tomorrow. She'll be co-leading this project with you. She's been away from India for a long time, so make sure she receives a warm welcome and all the support she needs."

Angad nodded, trying to match his boss's enthusiasm. "Absolutely, Sir. I'll make sure everything is arranged. Looking forward to working with her."

"Good," Sinha said, sounding pleased, before hanging up.

Angad placed his phone down beside him and exhaled deeply. His eyes wandered to the sky as he whispered to himself, "So... Rima is coming tomorrow. A fresh face. A new project."

He paused, the heaviness in his chest still lingering.

"I should focus on work now," he muttered, trying to convince himself. "Build something new. Move forward."

But even as he spoke of new beginnings, Meera's voice haunted him—the warmth, the anger, the love that once was, and the coldness that remained.

Still, he looked ahead, forcing himself to believe that time and distance could heal the wounds of love lost.

"...And maybe," he added softly, "with time, I'll forget everything about the past."

Yet, as the breeze picked up around him and the sun dipped lower, a part of his heart whispered that forgetting Meera wouldn't be as easy as he wished.

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To be continued.

Chapter 17

Unbeknownst to Angad and Kabir Sakhuja, the dynamics were about to shift.

Rima Sinha, daughter of the influential and warm-hearted Sinha Sir, was returning to India after several years of studying and working abroad. Poised, confident, and elegant with a mind as sharp as her fashion sense, Rima had grown up watching her father's dedication to his company—and now, she was finally ready to take on her role alongside him.

What she didn't yet know, however, was that her arrival would spark changes in not just the professional dynamics at LML Global—but also in the lives of Angad and Kabir.

The Arrival of Rima Sinha – Shifting Equations

The sun rose over the Sakhuja House, but warmth was far from the atmosphere between the two brothers. Ever since the café encounter the day before, Angad had been deliberately distant, avoiding any interaction with Kabir. The latter, meanwhile, had been trying to strike a conversation since the moment Angad returned home the previous evening—but to no avail.

Though Kabir was relieved that Angad had chosen not to disclose his workplace at S & P Media—or his growing closeness with Meera—to the family, he couldn't ignore the coldness between them. And it was gnawing at him.

The next morning, their shared room was quiet as the brothers got ready for work. Angad, seated on the bed, was putting on his socks while Kabir nervously adjusted his shirt, trying to gather courage. Finally, Kabir broke the silence.

"Angad, this is getting too much. I've been trying to talk to you since yesterday and all you've done is ignore me. This isn't fair!"

Angad let out a sigh and tossed his socks down in mild frustration. "Alright. Talk. What is it that you want to say?"

Surprised by his brother's bluntness, Kabir hesitated but eventually began. "Listen, I'm sorry—for everything that happened yesterday."

Angad remained quiet, giving only a nod.

Kabir continued, "And... thank you for not telling anyone about my job at S & P. I seriously don't know how Mumma would have reacted if she found out I work with Meera."

Angad shook his head in disapproval. "But why hide it? You could've at least told me or Bhabhi."

Kabir sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know how desperately I needed a job. I went around a few corners to get into S & P, and with everything going on between Mumma and KK Uncle... I was afraid if I told the truth, they'd ask me to quit. Especially since Meera works there."

Angad considered Kabir's words and finally said in a calmer tone, "Alright. I won't say anything for now. But eventually, you'll have to tell the truth—especially once things settle down between the families."

Kabir nodded with quiet agreement.

Angad stood up, ready to leave for the office, but paused at the door. Without turning to face him, he said softly, "Take care of Meera. She's your best friend—and right now, you're probably the only one who understands her."

Kabir gave a silent nod, but then took a deep breath and asked the question lingering on his mind. "Do you... still have feelings for her?"

Angad paused for a beat. Then, turning his gaze slightly toward Kabir, he answered, his voice low and filled with unspoken sorrow, "Relationships can be broken when people part ways... but feelings? They don't die that easily."

Kabir watched silently as Angad exited the room, the weight of those words lingering in the air.

Left alone, Kabir looked down thoughtfully and murmured to himself, "I know it's hard, Bhai. But I truly wish you move on. The day you find someone who fills that void—just like Meera is trying to move on—I promise you'll be the first one I tell about us. And I know... you'll understand."

Moments later, Kabir finished getting dressed. Today, he had a promotional shoot with Meera—one he'd been excited for all week. Shaking off the heavy thoughts, he put on a cheerful face, took blessings from his family, and stepped out of the house with a determined smile.

When Paths Collide

Kabir stepped out of his house, the morning air crisp and fresh, his mood unusually cheerful. Waiting outside were his childhood best friends, Sunny and Ronny, who immediately noticed the spring in his step.

"Someone looks like they've just won the lottery," Sunny teased.

"Yeah, what's with that million-dollar grin?" Ronny added.

Kabir chuckled and shrugged, "Let's just say... things are finally falling into place."

Curious, the duo prodded him until Kabir finally opened up. As they strolled down the street, he narrated everything that had unfolded between him and Meera over the past few weeks—from casual workplace banter to emotional confessions and everything in between.

Sunny and Ronny exchanged looks before Sunny cautiously asked, "But bro... aren't you feeling even a little bad for Angad?"

Kabir fell silent for a moment, then said with quiet resolve, "Angad only ever wanted Meera's happiness. And I believe, when the time is right, he'll understand. I'll explain everything to him, and he'll get it." He paused, his voice softening. "Meera is not just a friend anymore. She's my ray of hope—my zindagi. No one can take that place in my heart."

Just then, a sleek white luxury car came speeding recklessly into the narrow street, sloshing a filthy pool of muddy water all over Kabir's neatly pressed clothes. He stumbled back in shock, drenched.

"What the—?!" Kabir shouted furiously at the departing car. "What kind of crazy driver are you? Ever heard of brakes? Or eyesight?"

To his surprise, the car screeched to a halt just a few feet ahead. The back door opened with flair. Sunny and Ronny walked up to Kabir's side, all three of them glaring at the car.

Out stepped a young woman—tall, confident, and striking. Her short designer dress, high heels, and dramatic hair flip were enough to make Sunny and Ronny gape openly.

"Whoa..." Sunny whispered under his breath.

"Angel from Milan..." Ronny mumbled, practically drooling.

But Kabir's reaction was anything but impressed. He glared at her, arms folded, as she walked toward him.

Before the girl could even open her mouth, Kabir began angrily wiping his shirt, muttering, "Oh, great. So it wasn't a reckless guy, but a woman. No wonder the driving was atrocious."

The girl raised an eyebrow.

Kabir continued without stopping. "Who even gives people like you a licence? Must be some spoiled, rich dad handing out keys to his pampered princess—no road sense, no common sense. And look at your clothes... are you immune to winter or just allergic to fabric?"

Now clearly offended, the girl crossed her arms and snapped, "Shut. Up!"

Her voice echoed loud enough for passers-by to stop and stare. Sunny and Ronny instantly clamped their mouths shut and gulped.

She stormed forward and said in a sharp tone, "First of all—yes, I'm rich. My dad's rich. That's hardly a crime. Second, I'll wear what I want. You don't get to dictate anyone's wardrobe just because your ego is bruised. And third—believe it or not—I was going to apologize. I'm new here and I genuinely don't know the roads well. But after this delightful show of toxic masculinity, I take that apology back."

She turned on her heel, stormed back to her car, grabbed a packet from the back seat, and returned to Kabir. Without a word, she shoved it into his hands.

"These are fresh clothes. Consider them compensation," she said coldly. "Unlike you, I have manners."

The two stood face to face, seething. A moment passed. Another. Then the girl turned, headed back to her car, and climbed in.

"Uff..." Sunny whispered in awe. "What a girl, Kabir!"

"Her style, her sass, her stare... She's fire," Ronny added with stars in his eyes.

Kabir rolled his eyes and snapped, "Have you both lost your minds? Didn't you see her horrible attitude? You actually want a chudail like her in your life?"

Sunny shrugged, "Bhai... you're sounding kinda jealous."

Ronny grinned, "Yeah... jealous because we were admiring your girl."

Kabir practically shouted, "My girl?! I already have a girl in my life—and I would never bring a witch like her into it!"

Sunny and Ronny quickly nodded in mock fear.

"Come on. We're getting late," Kabir muttered.

The three turned to walk away, but instinctively, Kabir glanced back. At the same moment, the girl turned around just before stepping into her car. Their eyes locked again.

Glowering.

Judging.

Challenging.

"Chudail!" Kabir mouthed under his breath.

"What a creepy fattu man!" the girl hissed in return.

Their scowls said it all.

Sometimes, the people we are destined to meet enter our lives at the wrong moment. And in that wrong moment, they leave behind the worst possible first impression.
But as time unfolds, those very people become the most unforgettable chapters of our story.

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To be continued.

Chapter 18

LML Global

Outside the sleek glass building of LML Global, Angad stood with a bouquet of white orchids in hand, exuding both elegance and nervous energy. Around him, the office staff had gathered, all prepped to welcome the boss's daughter. Angad checked his watch for the third time in a minute—everything had to be perfect.

Mr. Sinha had informed them that his daughter Rima would be joining the office that day, and Angad, being the lead on her upcoming project, wanted to make the right first impression. Soon, a luxurious car glided to a halt at the front entrance, grabbing everyone's attention. From it stepped a confident young woman in chic formal attire—Rima Sinha.

What no one knew was that this poised, elegant woman was the same person Kabir had a fiery altercation with that very morning.

The staff stepped forward with cheerful greetings. Angad, holding the bouquet a bit too high in his eagerness, walked toward her and said warmly, "Welcome, Rima. I'm Angad Sakhuja, and I'll be assisting you on the new project."

[Flashback to the Previous Night]

On a late-night call, Mr. Sinha spoke to his daughter.

"Rima, tomorrow you officially join LML Global. I've been preparing for this day—and for my retirement. But before that, I want to hand you a special responsibility."

"What is it, Dad?" Rima asked, intrigued.

"Angad Sakhuja. He's the most talented among our employees. I see in him not just the future of this company... but also a prospective son-in-law."

Rima chuckled in disbelief. "So, you've already chosen my life partner without asking me?"

"Well... kind of," Sinha replied with a smile in his voice. "He's capable, grounded, and has the potential to lead. But he's been through heartbreak. That's his weak point. And remember, broken hearts often leap toward the place they find genuine care. You could be that place."

Rima grew serious. "And what if he's still in love with the girl?"

Sinha replied, "Knowing KK—her father—I doubt he'll ever allow their relationship to be mended. Just meet Angad. I believe, once you do, my choice will become yours."

[Back to the Present]

Rima remembered her father's words as she tried to peek past the large bouquet that Angad was still holding awkwardly high. Finally, losing patience, she said with a smile, "Mr. Sakhuja, thank you for the lovely bouquet—but I'm afraid I can see only the flowers, not the person offering them."

Angad quickly lowered the bouquet, revealing his face. The moment Rima saw him, something shifted. She remembered her father's words and felt an instant connection. She accepted the flowers, still slightly lost in her thoughts as Angad began to speak.

"...and I truly look forward to working with you," he concluded, extending his hand for a handshake.

Rima, still somewhat distracted, didn't respond. Noticing her hesitation, Angad said politely, "I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable with handshakes. I assumed you'd be okay with it, considering you've spent much of your life abroad."

That snapped Rima out of her reverie. Smiling, she replied, "On the contrary, Mr. Sakhuja. A handshake is the beginning of any relationship—professional or personal. And I don't mind shaking hands with someone I'm going to lead a project with."

She extended her hand. Angad smiled and shook it warmly.

Just then, Mr. Sinha appeared and smiled at the sight of them. "Didn't you bring something for your project partner, Rima?"

Rima's face fell slightly as she remembered what she had forgotten.

S&P Media – Men's Washroom

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Kabir stood in front of the mirror in the men's washroom, still irritated.

"She drove like a maniac, splashed mud all over me, and then had the audacity to act like she's the Prime Minister! What a chudail, seriously!"

He glanced at the gift packet the girl had handed him earlier. Curiosity got the better of him. He opened it and found a neatly wrapped box inside.

"She ruined my mood and then tries to compensate with a gift?" he scoffed. "Chudail!"

As he opened the gift, a small note fell out. It read, "With love." The handwriting was elegant, almost too graceful for someone with her temper.

"Oh, now Madam Chudail is giving me love too?" he said mockingly. He was about to crumble the note and toss it into the dustbin but paused.

"Wait. I'll keep this. If I ever meet her again, I'll shove this right in her face and say—'To hell with you and your so-called love!'"

Still grumbling, he folded the note and searched his wallet for space. Eventually, he slid it beside Meera's photo, covering it with his family photo for now.

Returning to the box, he discovered a baby pink shirt with grey pants. His expression softened.

"Baby pink? That's my favorite..." he murmured, surprised and a little amused.

LML Global

Sinha chuckled, teasing gently, "What happened, Rima? You didn't bring any gift for your project partner?"

Rima's smile faded as her father's words triggered a quiet memory—how, in a moment of rage and misunderstanding, she had handed over the very gift she had thoughtfully chosen for Angad to the wrong person that morning... to that rude, arrogant man who had called her a chudail.

Before the awkward silence could deepen, Angad sensed her discomfort and immediately stepped in, his voice kind and reassuring.
"Oh, what's the need for gifts, Sir?" he said warmly. "I'm already honoured to be working alongside someone as talented as Rima. Honestly, Rima, you remind me of my younger sister, Soni—you're just a few months older than her. And at such a young age, to have achieved so much—it's truly admirable. For me, the real gift is getting to collaborate with someone like you."

Rima's face lit up with genuine admiration. She had expected formal introductions and stiff professionalism. Instead, she had met a man who spoke with humility, grace, and sincerity. Her heart, unknowingly, had already started leaning toward Angad.

Angad glanced at the bouquet in her hands and added with a smile, "So... how did you like my welcome gift?"

Rima looked at the bouquet of elegant white orchids, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Who doesn't love flowers? And I must say—you have quite a classic taste. Orchids are a beautiful choice. I'm impressed."

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, "But... I would've been happier if you had chosen pink orchids instead of white."

Angad raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You like the colour pink?"

Rima replied gently, "More precisely—I love baby pink."

S & P Media

Back at the S&P Media office, Kabir burst out of the washroom grinning like a child. Holding the baby-pink shirt against himself, he shouted joyfully,
"Baby pink shirt! Wah bhai, Kabir Sakhuja! This is the first time someone's actually gifted you clothes in your favourite colour. Otherwise, people always say, 'men don't wear pink... pink is for girls...' and so on. But look at this!"

He paused mid-celebration, his grin faltering slightly as a thought crept into his mind.
"Wait a minute... Did that chudail actually bring these clothes for me? I don't think so. But still... the packet did have my name on it. So, maybe... destiny decided they belonged to Kabir Sakhuja anyway!"

With that, he eagerly slipped into the new clothes. The soft fabric, the perfect fit—it felt like luxury. He admired himself briefly in the mirror and then walked out, where he was stopped by Muskaan, the bubbly receptionist.

"Whoa, Kabir!" Muskaan gasped, scanning him from head to toe. "You're looking seriously good today. And what's this—branded clothes too? Don't tell me you robbed a fashion store on your way here!"

Kabir gave her a toothy grin. "You really think so? Handsome and branded, huh?"

Muskaan reached out to feel the fabric. "Wait a second—this is one of the top luxury brands. Kabir, who gifted you these? I've never seen you wear anything like this before!"

Kabir's smile froze for a moment, her words hitting a nerve.
"Did someone special give them to you?" she asked innocently.

His grin faded. The question echoed in his head. Someone special?
His mind flashed back to the morning's chaos—the mud-splash, the shouting, the gift shoved into his hands, and the note that read "With love."

--------

To be continued.

Chapter 19

LML Global

Angad chuckled, teasing playfully, "Alright then—next time I gift you something, I'll make sure it's painted head to toe in baby pink."

Rima laughed along with him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Their laughter echoed lightly through the office corridor, drawing a satisfied smile from Sinha, who had been observing them quietly.

Sinha subtly gestured for the other staff to disperse. The employees took the hint and began exiting, giving the duo some privacy.

Once they were alone, Sinha stepped forward with a knowing smile.
"I'll leave the two of you to it," he said warmly. "From this moment on, you both will be heading the next project together. I'm handing over full responsibility to you, while I finally take a little off-time. I trust you'll manage brilliantly."

Angad and Rima exchanged glances, nodding confidently.
"Absolutely, Sir," Angad said.
"You can count on us," Rima added.

With a pleased nod, Sinha turned and exited, leaving the two future project heads alone in the room.

Rima glanced at Angad, then spoke thoughtfully, "You know, it's not very common for a man to like the colour pink—especially baby pink. Society's always defined such rigid lines... blue for boys, pink for girls. It's almost like a man liking pink challenges some unspoken rule."

Angad nodded in understanding. "I get that. But... I actually know a guy whose favourite colour is baby pink—just like you."

Rima raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Who?"

A small grin tugged at Angad's lips. "My younger brother, Kabir. He's completely obsessed with baby pink—shirts, sneakers, even his phone case once. You two might just get along too well."

S & P Media

Back at S&P Media, Kabir scowled as he adjusted his newly gifted shirt in the mirror. Muskaan's lingering words echoed in his head.

"What's with you, Muskaan?" he snapped, frustrated. "Does every gift have to come from someone special?"

Muskaan raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. "Well... usually, expensive gifts are bought for someone special, Kabir. Especially something this high-end. Why would anyone spend so much on someone they supposedly hate?"

Kabir stiffened at her logic. Her question had hit a nerve.

"I don't need your psychological analysis right now," he retorted. "Don't you have anything better to do? Go prep the team for the promo shoot!"

Muskaan sighed and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine, fine! No appreciation for good observation these days," she muttered, walking out.

Alone again, Kabir paced slowly, Muskaan's words still tugging at his thoughts.
Why would someone give an expensive gift to someone they hated? If that girl truly despised me, then why was the packet addressed to me? And Meera... he paused, frowning. Why hasn't she ever given me anything special? Back when she was with Angad, she used to shower him with gifts all the time.
And if those clothes were meant for someone special by that chudail... then who exactly was that "someone special"?

His thoughts circled back to the note tucked safely beside Meera's photo in his wallet: With love.

Kabir's expression hardened with confusion.

"Was that gift... even meant for me?" he murmured aloud.

And in the silence that followed, the pieces had just begun to shift.

LML Global

Angad smiled gently. "You must be surprised to hear my brother loves baby pink too, right? Well, Kabir has always been... something special. I'll introduce you both someday."

Rima's eyes lit up with curiosity. "You have a brother too?"

But as soon as the words left her lips, she noticed Angad's smile falter. A faint shadow passed over his face. The warmth in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly as memories stirred—memories of Karan.

Rima immediately sensed the shift. She recalled what her father had told her: the tragic loss of Angad's elder brother, the burden he had taken upon himself after the accident—financial strain, emotional collapse, losing his first job, and the broken engagement that followed. It was a lot for anyone to endure, especially someone as young as Angad had been back then.

"I'm so sorry, Angad," she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "Dad had told me everything... about your brother, and what your family went through. I don't know how I forgot."

Angad shook his head, his composure steady but his voice quiet. "It's alright, Rima. Losing someone you love never stops hurting... but eventually, you learn to live with the void. You learn to see life from a new perspective. We can't forget Karan bhai—not for a moment. But somehow, his presence still lingers. In every decision we make, in every success we achieve... he's there."

As he said this, Angad lightly placed his hand over his heart.

Rima was moved by the depth of his resilience. There was something incredibly strong about how he had turned his pain into purpose.

"I feel like I could learn a lot from you," she admitted. "When I lost my mother, I was too young to process it. I never quite recovered the way you have. Even now, I feel like I'm still chasing pieces of myself."

Angad gave her a soft smile. "We'll both learn from each other, Rima. After all, we're a team now."

He turned and began to walk toward the office, but just as he reached the door, Rima called out behind him, her voice hesitant—vulnerable.

"And her?" she asked. "Can you... forget her?"

Angad stopped in his tracks.

He slowly turned around, his eyes meeting hers—stunned, unprepared.

The question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.

S & P Media

Meanwhile, at S&P Media, Kabir strolled over to Meera's desk, hands in his pockets and an expectant grin on his face.

"Meera," he said, leaning casually against her workstation, "we've been in a serious relationship for over a month now. I just realized—I've showered you with gifts, and not once have I received anything from you. Isn't that a little unfair?"

Meera didn't even look up from her computer. "Kabir, seriously? We're about to shoot a major promo, and that's what's bothering you—gifts?"

Still, she sighed and reached into her designer handbag, pulling out a sleek black box.

"Alright," she said, placing it in his hands. "Here. A personalized Pierre Cardin gift set. Consider it my first official gift to mark the beginning of our relationship. Happy now?"

Kabir opened the box, impressed by the elegance of it. But as he examined the engraved pen, his face dropped.

"Umm... Meera?" he said hesitantly. "This... it has Angad's name on it."

Meera froze.

She slowly turned away from her screen and stared at Kabir, words caught in her throat.

The silence between them grew thick with unspoken truths.

Narrator's Voice:

Moving on in life is hard. But moving on from a relationship built on love, broken only by misunderstanding—that's even harder.

Because once the misunderstanding clears... nothing is ever quite the same again.

------

To be continued.

Chapter 20

LML Global

Angad stood frozen, still processing Rima's question, his gaze locked on her with a silent inquiry—Who was she talking about?
Rima continued gently, "Meera Sehgal. Your ex-fiancée. Can you really forget her?"
Realizing the sensitivity of her question, she quickly added, "I'm sorry if I crossed a line. It's just... after hearing from Dad about your broken engagement and then seeing how strong and positive you still are, I couldn't help but wonder..."

Angad cut in, his voice calm but heavy. "Yes, I had a relationship with her, but..."
His thoughts flashed back to Meera's words from the day before. His fists clenched involuntarily.
"Relationships thrive on mutual love and understanding. If even one side falters, the foundation weakens—and everything falls apart. That's what happened between me and Mee—"
He paused, refusing to say her name out loud, and continued, "Yes. I'll forget her... in time."
With that, he turned and walked swiftly into the office, leaving Rima staring after him, deep in thought.

A gentle smile spread across her face.
The way he loved her... it was intense, selfless. And somehow, it's drawing me closer to him. I want that kind of love—for myself. Maybe Dad was right. There is something about Angad... something magnetic. I wish I could be the one to fill that void she left behind in his heart.

Just as she smiled at the thought, a sudden memory interrupted her: the gift. The one she had lovingly picked out for Angad—now in the hands of that rude, arrogant man she'd clashed with earlier that morning.
Kabir's face flashed in her mind, and her smile disappeared.

Two completely different men in one day.
On one side, there's Angad—kind, thoughtful, grounded... And on the other, that ill-mannered fattu, who clearly had no idea how to speak to a woman.
She shook her head in annoyance.
Why am I even thinking about that creep? I just hope I never have to see his face again. What a pathetic, clueless fattu!

S & P Media

Kabir stared at Meera, visibly puzzled. She was equally stunned, realizing with a sinking heart that the personalized Pierre Cardin gift set she had just handed him was actually the one she had once bought for Angad—back when they were still together. In the chaos of their breakup, she had completely forgotten to remove it from her bag.

Snatching it back awkwardly, Meera stammered, "I'm really sorry, Kabir... I had bought this for Angad before we... before things ended. I meant to throw it away but completely forgot it was still in my bag."

Kabir gave her a soft, bittersweet smile. "Growing up in a middle-class family, I was used to hand-me-downs—books, toys, clothes—all from my brothers, Karan and Angad bhai. And I used them proudly, feeling like I was carrying a part of them."
His voice turned serious.
"But with you, Meera, I don't want that. You're not a thing to be passed down. You're someone I want to call mine—without anyone else's shadow hanging over us. Not even my brother's."

He quietly walked away, leaving Meera stunned and wordless.

Her fingers tightened around the gift box as she whispered to herself, Why is Angad always lingering in everything I do with Kabir? Why can't I escape him—even when I'm trying so hard to move on?
Frustrated, she crushed the gift box in her hands, a symbol of the war inside her heart.
Why am I still not free of him?

LML Global

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into two full months, Rima and Angad spent long hours collaborating closely on their joint project. In that time, Rima learned more than just Angad's professional brilliance—she discovered his patience, his subtle humour, his quiet resilience, and the unspoken depth in his silences. From the very first meeting, his calm, composed demeanour had left an impression on her, but now, as she watched him work with effortless sincerity, she felt herself slowly but unmistakably falling for him.

Tucked safely in a drawer of her cupboard were two things that had grown dear to her—a once-fresh bouquet of white orchids, now gently fading but still cherished, and a copy of First Love by Sheeja Jose. She had bought the book the same day she met Angad, and as she read it in the nights that followed, she found herself deeply relating to Tina, the novel's protagonist—a girl who believed in love even when life tested her. The delicate, pale petals of the bouquet and the tear-stained pages of the novel became quiet witnesses to a new chapter unfolding in her life.

On the inside of her cupboard door, she had also placed a photograph of Angad—taken discreetly during a team outing. It wasn't just a picture anymore. It was a silent confession of feelings left unspoken.

Rima knew she had fallen in love.

But love, she also knew, could not be one-sided—not when the man she loved was still healing from wounds of a past relationship. Angad had always carried himself with grace, never letting pain cloud his responsibilities, but Rima sensed the unspoken caution in him. His heart was not yet ready to leap again. And perhaps, it never would be—unless she was honest.

She decided it was time.

Not to demand love in return, but to tell him what she felt. To give him the freedom to choose, knowing fully well that her confession could either bring them closer—or change things forever.

That evening, she dialed his number.

"Angad," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral, "we have a meeting with a prospective client tomorrow evening. It's over dinner—restaurant meeting, the usual pitch."

"Got it," he replied, as matter-of-fact as ever. "Text me the address. I'll be there."

As she hung up, her heart raced—not because of the meeting, but because of the truth she had decided to share.

Tomorrow evening, it wouldn't just be a client pitch. It would be the moment Rima laid her heart bare.

-------

To be continued.

Chapter 21

S & P Media

That same evening, Kabir excitedly approached Meera with a wide grin. "I've planned something special for tonight," he announced. "Just you and me—at a late-night movie show. I've booked the entire theatre for us. We'll have the whole place to ourselves."

Meera's expression instantly changed—shock, then discomfort, clouded her face. "Are you serious, Kabir?" she asked, clearly disturbed. "Your family is going through a financial crisis and you're spending on private theatre bookings and gifts? How could you be so reckless?" Her voice rose slightly as frustration seeped into her words. "Why are you placing the entire burden on Angad—"

She paused, realizing too late that she had invoked Angad's name once again between herself and Kabir.

Kabir's face darkened. "Why did you stop? Go ahead—say it. My whole family keeps comparing me to Karan and Angad bhai, and now you too?" His voice was low but laced with hurt.

Meera shook her head quickly. "That's not what I meant, Kabir. It's just... you need to be more responsible. You know your family is relying on you and Angad right now. How long do you expect poor Angad to manage everything alone? Doesn't he always put everyone else's needs before his own? You should be supporting him, not focusing on extravagant gestures just for your own happiness."

Kabir's expression turned from hurt to irritation. "Seriously, Meera? I'm asking you out on a date, and all I get is a lecture on Angad's selflessness? Sometimes I wonder if you're even in a relationship with me—or with him." He pulled the tickets out of his pocket, gripping them tightly. "Forget it. If you don't want to go, I'll just tear them up."

Just as he was about to rip them, Meera reached out and stopped him.

"Wait. I'm not lecturing you about Angad," she said gently. "I'm just asking you to step up for your family—because I care. I saw how helpless your father looked in front of Sethi Sir the other day. Your family needs both their sons right now, Kabir."

Kabir frowned but defended himself. "Did I ever say I wouldn't support my family? Am I not working too? And for your information, the theatre isn't some fancy multiplex—it's an old rundown one on the outskirts of Gurgaon. One ticket costs just ₹10. I spent only ₹10,000 for the whole place."

"Only ₹10,000?" Meera's eyes widened in disbelief. "Kabir, that's nearly one-fifth of your salary! Do you even realise how much that money could have helped your family? How can you be so careless?"

Kabir let out a sigh, clearly exasperated. "Now you sound like Mumma. Look, the money's already spent. Can't we just enjoy the moment for once?"

Meera stared at him, incredulous. "Enjoyment? You booked an abandoned, unsafe theatre in the middle of nowhere for a late-night show and you call that enjoyment? Do you even know how unsafe the city is for women at night? Kabir, you're so impulsive!"

Agitated, Kabir stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. Several heads turned in the office. Meera, concerned by the sudden attention, quickly caught his hand and gestured for him to calm down.

He sat back down, visibly trying to control his emotions.

"I'm sorry," Meera said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to understand the difference between what's right and what's careless. That's all. You want me to come tonight, don't you? Fine. I'll come. But promise me—next time, be more thoughtful. Please?"

Kabir's frustration melted into a smile as he nodded eagerly. Her agreement was all he needed.

He leaned in, arms open, about to hug her when Meera stopped him with a firm hand. "Not here, Kabir. This is our workplace. And don't forget—we've agreed to keep our relationship private for now."

Kabir nodded sheepishly, then whispered with a teasing grin, "Fine. But I'll make up for it during the date tonight." He winked and returned to his work.

Meera smiled faintly, but as she watched Kabir return to his desk, her thoughts drifted elsewhere—back to a moment from her past.

Flashback

The golden evening sun bathed the Sakhujas' terrace in a warm, mellow glow. Meera and Angad stood close together, the city's distant hum softly filling the silence between them. Meera turned to him with a teasing frown.

"I don't get it, Angad," she said, folding her arms. "What's wrong with my fiancé? Usually, when a guy is in a relationship, he's all excited to get romantic—but you? You're the total opposite. Even when I try to get close, you pull away. Tell me honestly... are you asexual or something?"

Angad's eyes widened in surprise, a wave of embarrassment spreading across his face. "It's not like that, Meera," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "The thing is... most of the time when we're together, there are always people around—family, relatives, neighbours. And if someone sees us getting too close..."

He paused, his tone growing serious.

"No one will blame me," he said quietly. "They'll blame you. That's how our society works, doesn't it? Even if both the man and the woman are equally involved, it's always the woman who gets judged first. And I don't want anyone questioning your character, Meera. You're already my favourite. I want the whole world to see you that way too."

His voice dropped to a soft whisper as he stepped behind her. Gently resting his chin on her shoulder, he circled his arms around hers. The gesture was tender, protective.

"And once we're married," he murmured, brushing his nose gently against hers, "I'll show you whether I'm asexual or not."

Meera's cheeks flushed pink as a laugh escaped her lips.

Just then, Nimmo's voice echoed from downstairs. "Angad! Come down, beta!"

Startled, Angad sprang back, flustered. "Yes, Mumma! Coming!" he called out. He cast Meera one last sheepish grin before hurrying down the stairs, leaving her giggling alone on the terrace.

Flashback ends.

Present

A faint smile tugged at Meera's lips as the memory replayed in her mind. That terrace, that innocence, that moment—it all felt like a lifetime ago, and yet it remained so vividly etched in her heart.

Kabir noticed her smile and leaned over with a playful grin. "Wow, Meera. Already blushing about our date tonight, huh? I knew you'd be excited," he teased. "Just don't forget to make up some excuse for KK Sehgal—or he'll probably show up at the theatre with a flashlight in hand."

Meera quickly nodded and offered him a smile—but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

As Kabir turned back to his laptop, humming to himself, Meera's gaze drifted.

If things hadn't fallen apart... I'd be going on a date with you tonight, Angad. Not your brother.

A dull ache settled in her chest.

Do you ever think about us, Angad? Do those memories still find their way into your heart like they do in mine?

She blinked, forcing herself back to the present, eyes on the glowing screen before her. Kabir's soft chuckle floated across the table, but her heart remained suspended somewhere else—on that quiet terrace, in the warmth of Angad's embrace.

That peaceful evening. His silent strength. His unwavering care. The same qualities she now longed to stir in Kabir.

And for just a fleeting second, Meera found herself wondering...
Why does Angad's presence still haunt my thoughts, even when I'm trying so hard to move on?

-------

To be continued.

Chapter 22

Ottimo at Westview – ITC Maurya, Diplomatic Enclave

Angad stepped into the restaurant as instructed by Rima, but was taken aback to find the place completely empty. Not a single diner in sight.

He paused near the entrance, his brows furrowing.
Is this really the restaurant Rima mentioned?

Pulling out his phone, he quickly opened the message and compared the address to Google Maps. The location matched perfectly.

"This is it," he murmured to himself. "Then why does it feel like I've walked into a private event?"

Still puzzled, he wandered towards the rooftop, drawn by the quiet ambiance and the famed view of Delhi's luxurious greenbelt. The soft evening breeze brushed past him, carrying with it the scent of fine cuisine—and memories he hadn't asked for.

Flashback

Angad and Meera were seated in a modest local café, sipping on steaming cups of coffee as a plate of buttery biscuits sat untouched between them.

Just as the waiter left, Meera leaned forward with a playful pout. "Angad, why is it that whenever you take me out, it's either to a tiny café or some ordinary roadside dhaba?"

Angad raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer a five-star roadside tea stall then?" he chuckled.

"I'm being serious!" she protested, crossing her arms. "Have you ever even heard of Ottimo restaurant?"

Angad tilted his head in mock confusion. "Ottimo moh?" he grinned. "What kind of moh (attraction) are we talking about?"

Meera rolled her eyes dramatically and smacked his arm. "Shut up! I'm not talking about moh the feeling—I said Ottimo, the restaurant. You know, they say it has this beautiful rooftop view reserved just for couples. Just imagine...you and me there, the city lights glowing beneath us. So romantic, right?"

Angad, mid-sip of his café crema, shrugged. "Meera, your would-be husband currently doesn't even have enough in his wallet to fulfil your moh, let alone your Ottimo dreams." He set his cup down, cream sticking stubbornly above his lips. "For now, adjust with this coffee, these biscuits, and this budget café. We'll think about Ottimo lasoon ter—later!"

Meera burst out laughing. Angad blinked. "What now?"

She pulled out her compact mirror and held it up to him. "Even your coffee agrees with me. Look! That creamy moustache says you'll take me to Ottimo only when you're an old man."

Flustered, Angad scrambled. "Ugh—I forgot my handkerchief today. And these café folks couldn't even leave a single tissue!"

He turned to call the waiter, but Meera gently caught his chin, guiding his face back toward her. In a soft, unhurried motion, she wiped the cream off his lips with her fingers, her touch tender.

"Done," she whispered with a smile.

Angad looked into her eyes. "You know, Meera... we don't need Ottimo to feel romantic. With you around, even a roadside stall feels special."

She blushed and playfully pinched his arm. He yelped, then both burst into laughter, lost in their own perfect world.

End of Flashback

Angad smiled softly as he stood by the rooftop railing, the memory replaying so vividly it almost felt real. He could still hear the echo of their laughter in the wind.

"I did bring you to the place of your dreams," he whispered, "just not with the right girl."

Tears welled up in his eyes before he quickly blinked them away. Pull yourself together, Angad. You're here for work—not to fall back into old memories.

He was still trying to steady himself when a voice from behind jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Hi, Angad!"

He turned—and froze.

There stood Rima.

She was radiant. Dressed elegantly, with a quiet poise in her stance and warmth in her eyes, she looked nothing short of breathtaking. For a moment, Angad could only stare, momentarily stunned.

And just like that, the present reasserted itself.

Rima walked in gracefully, her short black dress with a square neckline and half sleeves hugging her frame with effortless elegance. Her long diamond earrings shimmered with every step, and a shiny, embellished purse hung from her arm. As she moved closer, Angad couldn't take his eyes off her—more out of surprise than admiration.

Snapping her fingers lightly in front of his face, she teased, "Hello? Earth to Angad?"

He blinked, snapping out of his daze. "Uh... is the client someone really important?"

Rima giggled mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "Why do you ask?"

Angad gave her a once-over. "I've just never seen you dressed like this before."

She tilted her head and smiled. "Well, aren't there people other than clients who are worth dressing up for?"

Angad frowned, not quite understanding. "Huh?"

"Never mind," she waved off the question breezily. "Come on, let's sit."

She reached for his hand, trying to guide him to the table, but Angad gently pulled his hand away, his discomfort evident. He walked ahead and took a seat on his own. Rima followed with a smile, settling down beside him.

"Waiter!" she called out. When the server arrived, she ordered confidently—a curated list of Angad's favourite dishes.

He turned to her, genuinely surprised. "You remember all that?"

She shrugged casually. "Well, as partners, it was part of the job to learn each other's preferences... wasn't it?"

Angad nodded slowly but looked away, a strange unease settling over him. The whole setup felt... off. Too personal. Too curated. Not work-related at all.

As the food arrived, he hesitated. "Rima, shouldn't we wait for the client? Maybe ask them to join us? It might not be appropriate if we're already eating when they arrive."

Rima reached for his hands again and offered a confident smile. "Don't worry about that. I'll handle it."

Angad glanced down at her hands wrapped around his and gave her a look.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"I can only start eating if you let go of my hands," he replied, half teasing, half serious.

Rima laughed awkwardly and released him. "Oops! Sorry."

He gave a polite smile, picked up his spoon, and began eating. But internally, his mind was a whirlpool of confusion.

Why does this feel more like a date than a client meeting? No, no... I'm just overthinking. Maybe Meera's memories are playing tricks on me again. I'm here for work. That's it. Finish the task and leave.

Just then, soft violin music began playing from behind. Angad turned instinctively, assuming the client had arrived. But all he saw was a group of violinists gracefully performing.

He turned back toward the table—and froze.

There, right in front of him, was Rima. On one knee. A red rose in hand.

Time stood still.

Angad sat motionless, the spoon suspended in his hand mid-air.

"I know this isn't what girls usually do," Rima said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "But my feelings for you... they've become too strong to keep inside."

She held out the rose.

"I love you, Angad. I really love you."

The spoon slipped from Angad's hand and landed on his plate with a loud clang, the sound echoing in the silent, empty restaurant.

He stared at her, lips slightly parted, too stunned to respond.

A New Chapter Begins

For Angad and Meera, life was beginning to move in unfamiliar directions. Two new people—Rima and Kabir—had entered their lives. Each one hoping to claim a space left vacant by past heartbreaks.

But the real question loomed large:
Would Angad and Meera allow that space to be filled?

Or were their hearts still quietly echoing with the laughter, memories, and love they once shared—with each other?

------

To be continued.

Chapter 23

Angad sat frozen, unable to process what was happening. Rima's words echoed in his ears, but it was as if his mind couldn't catch up with reality. She was still kneeling before him, holding out the rose, her expression earnest.

Sensing his paralysis, Rima gently snapped her fingers in front of him and spoke again, her voice soft yet steady. "Angad, I know this must feel incredibly awkward for you. But believe me, I didn't know any other way to say it. I'm aware you've been carrying a broken heart, and I've seen you trying to patch it together piece by piece. That's why I had to tell you how I feel. I just wanted you to know—so that you can decide whether or not you're ready to begin a new chapter... with me."
She held the rose out once more, her eyes searching his.

But Angad couldn't speak. His mind was caught in a whirlwind of disbelief. In the past two and a half months of working with Rima, he had always regarded her as a competent teammate—a dependable colleague, even someone who reminded him of his younger sister Soni. After all, Rima was only a few months older than her. Never once had he imagined this scenario unfolding.

Still stunned, he stood up slowly and gently motioned for Rima to get up. "You don't have to stay like that," he said quietly. "Please, sit. You'll catch a chill."

Moved by his kindness, Rima rose to her feet and took the seat he gestured to. Her eyes lingered on him, warm and affectionate, touched by the care he extended even amidst his clear confusion.

As she sat, a gust of wind swept in from the rooftop, making her shiver slightly. Angad noticed immediately. Without a word, he reached into his bag to look for something to keep her warm.

His fingers touched a familiar texture—the soft, hand-woven shawl Nimmo had given him.

And just like that, a wave of memories surged through him.

Flashback

Nimmo sat beside Dadi in the living room, her hands gently resting on a bundle of neatly folded shawls. She called out to her sons—Karan, Angad, and Kabir—with a warm smile.

As the three brothers entered, Nimmo began, "Soni never liked shawls. Even if I gift her one, she would simply shove it into her cupboard, never to be used. So, this time, I knitted her a woollen cap and a muffler—something that matches her fashion sense."

She then turned to her sons, her tone softening. "But for you three, I made something with my own hands—three woollen shawls. Despite my aching knees, I went to the market to get the wool, and I embroidered each of your names in Hindi on them."

She handed them over—one by one.

"This is yours, Karan... and these two are for you, Angad and Kabir."

Karan's face lit up with delight. He walked forward, embraced his mother, and kissed her forehead with heartfelt gratitude.

But his brothers didn't react the same way.

Kabir scrunched his nose and said, "What is this, Nimmo? A hand-woven woollen shawl? So outdated! Of course Karan bhai will like it—he's as old-fashioned as you. But not me. I'm new-gen. You made something trendy for Soni, so why not for me?"

Nimmo glared at Kabir, silencing him instantly.

Angad added hesitantly, "Mumma... Kabir does have a point. These days, guys don't wear shawls, even in winter. We usually go for jackets or coats. And these colours—bright Indian green for Karan bhai, cherry red for me, and pink for Kabir?"

Kabir immediately interjected, "Excuse me, I like pink, but that doesn't mean I'll wear a shawl in it. I'll look like a clown!"

Dadi clapped her hands sharply, grabbing everyone's attention. "Oh, just shut up, both of you! You're so caught up in trends and appearances that you can't even see the love woven into those shawls. Do you think your mother doesn't know her sons well? She knows your likes and dislikes better than anyone. So why do you think she made these shawls for you, when she could have easily picked something else—just like she did for Soni?"

All three brothers fell silent, staring at their shawls with puzzled expressions. They looked to Nimmo, who only smiled mischievously, exchanging a meaningful glance with Dadi.

Dadi went on, "When Nimmo became my daughter-in-law, I knitted a similar shawl for Guneet, your father. And guess what? He too made the same ridiculous complaints."

Angad and Kabir flushed in embarrassment.

"That's when I told him the shawl wasn't just for him—but for the woman who would one day sit beside him. Because the first time she shares that shawl with him, they'll be wrapped not just in warmth, but in love. And since it's woven by his mother, it would also bind her to this family with affection."

Dadi smiled, her eyes misty. "That shawl became a symbol of the love between me and Nimmo. And now, she's woven these for each of you. Karan is about to get married. Angad, you may be next. And Kabir... well, I'm still wondering who would be brave enough to marry my most stubborn grandson!"

"Beejeee!" Kabir exclaimed in protest.

Dadi chuckled. "Alright, fine. Even Kabir will find his match. And when your wives come into this home—leaving their own families behind—they deserve not just your love, but the love of this whole family, especially from their mother-in-law. Because every girl has a bond with her mother, and when she finds a mother in her mother-in-law, she becomes the luckiest daughter-in-law."

Nimmo beamed. "Just like me, right, Mummyji?"

Dadi smiled. "Well, now it's your turn. Let's see how good a mother-in-law you turn out to be."

"I've already started trying," Nimmo replied playfully.

The words struck a chord in Angad and Kabir. They looked at the shawls again, this time with softened eyes. With quiet reverence, they held them close. Then, without a word, they went and sat down beside their mother. Karan was already seated on her right; Angad settled on her left, wrapping an arm around her, and Kabir knelt at her feet, resting his head on her lap.

"We're sorry, Mumma," Angad murmured. "We were so caught up in style and trends that we didn't see the love in your gesture."

Kabir added, "You really are like neem and pinnis, Nimmo. Bitter one moment, sweet the next. Hard to understand."

Nimmo laughed gently. "You think I'm bitter because I scold you. But just like the warmth in these shawls, love is hidden in every rebuke. One day, when you're fathers yourselves, you'll understand."

Angad teased, "But Mumma, aren't we too young to be thinking about wives and marriage? Karan bhai is getting married next month, that's a different story. But Kabir and I?"

Nimmo smiled knowingly. "I trust both of you will take care of these shawls. But my only doubt is..."

She paused, and both sons looked at her with curiosity.

"...whether you'll give them to the right girl or not. Choosing the right life partner is everything, my sons. Your childhood belongs to us—your family. But the rest of your life will be shared with someone else. She will be your equal in love, pain, and dreams."

Kabir puffed his chest and declared, "Don't worry, Nimmo. I'll give this shawl to the right girl. In fact, I'm sure she'll be a pink-lover just like me."

He thought silently, I'm sure Meera likes pink too.

Angad raised an eyebrow. "Hey, what happened? Where did you drift off to?"

Kabir waved him off. "Mumma only needs to worry about you. You're always stuck when it comes to decisions. I bet you'll be confused over which girl to give your shawl to."

Angad smacked him lightly. "Shut up."

Kabir jumped up. "Go ahead, hit me all you want. But the day you do have to make that choice, you'll be in a dilemma. You can't ever choose between heart and mind, bhai."

"Oh really?" Angad shot up, chasing after his brother. "Let's see who the dumbhead really is!"

The two of them ran through the house, bickering and laughing while their family tried to separate them.

Flashback ends

Back in the present, Angad clutched the shawl tightly in his hands. His heart weighed heavy.

"Kabir said that in jest... but it has become the truth of my life. I had always imagined giving this shawl to Meera—quietly, tenderly—after she became mine. But today, I'm forced to offer it to someone else who wants to claim that place in my life. What kind of cruel game is this life playing with me?"

Memories of Meera rushed back—her laughter, her silences, her unspoken pain—and his eyes began to well up.

As tears brimmed over, Angad blinked rapidly and wiped them before anyone could see. Just then, Rima called out from behind.

"What happened, Angad?"

He turned to her, quickly composing himself. Walking forward without a word, he gently draped the shawl over her shoulders. Rima began to feel the comforting warmth of the shawl wrap around her shoulders, both physically and emotionally. Her face lit up with a cheerful smile as she looked at Angad.

"This... this is what made me fall for you, Angad," she said softly, her eyes glimmering with affection. "That serious, composed, and sophisticated side of you... it always gave me a sense of security. A kind of quiet strength. A ray of hope and positivity."

Her words, though spoken with admiration, sent a strange shiver down Angad's spine.

A chill—not from the cold—but from the eerie familiarity of her words.

"A ray of hope and positivity..."

Those exact same words had once fallen from Meera's lips, long before life had pulled them apart.

---------

To be continued.

Chapter 24

Ottimo at Westview – ITC Maurya, Diplomatic Enclave

The past always lingers—sometimes in a word, sometimes in a silence.

Angad hadn't expected the weight of memory to hit him this hard tonight. And yet, as Rima beamed up at him with joy lighting up her face, he felt a strange hollowness settle in his chest.

She smiled cheerfully, her voice bright. "This is what made me fall for you, Angad—your serious and sophisticated personality."

Angad felt a chill crawl down his spine. Her words, though warm and genuine, echoed from a place much deeper—a voice from another time.

He could still remember that night vividly—how Meera had sat across from him under the soft golden lights of a quiet café, gently sipping her coffee as she'd looked at him and said,
"You may not realise it, Angad, but you carry calm like an anchor... like a silent prayer. In a world full of noise, you make me believe that stability still exists. You give me hope... and a strange kind of peace."

His throat tightened.

It was as if time had folded over itself—Rima's present overlapping with Meera's past. The words were the same, but the feeling... the feeling wasn't.

Rima's voice was steady now, tender. "I feel lucky, Angad. In you, I see the kind of man who doesn't need to speak a lot to be heard. Who shows care not through grand gestures, but through quiet strength."

Angad managed a smile, just enough to appear present. But inside, his heart wandered—to another gaze, another moment. To the way Meera had truly seen him, not as someone to be admired, but someone to be understood.

He stood silently beside Rima, nodding, yet entirely somewhere else. His eyes dropped to the shawl draped around her shoulders—a shawl he had always imagined wrapping around Meera. Maybe on a cold morning. Maybe as a wedding gift. Maybe just on a quiet day when words weren't needed.

Now, that dream felt twisted by time.

His fingers brushed against the wool—the same fabric that carried his mother's warmth, his grandmother's memories, his own unspoken hopes.

A silent ache pulsed in his chest.

What was meant to be a gesture of love had become a performance. A habit. Misplaced affection offered in the absence of truth.

Still, he couldn't take it back. Not now. Not when Rima was looking at him with eyes full of trust and affection.

So, he smiled again. The softest version of it. Not because his heart was in it, but because he lacked the cruelty to hurt someone who loved him so sincerely.

And yet, as he turned slightly, trying to suppress the unrest stirring inside, a single thought clawed back into him—

"Meera had said the same thing... but when she did, I felt whole. Why then, does it feel like something's missing now?"

Elsewhere, in a quiet corner of the city...

The lights inside the old theatre had dimmed completely, the only glow coming from the silver screen at the front. The film played softly, its romantic undertones filling the empty space with music and light.

It was one of those near-abandoned cinemas—just a handful of seats, dusty velvet curtains, and an air of faded nostalgia. Perfect for people who didn't want to be seen.

Meera sat in the back row beside Kabir, her arms folded across her lap, posture relaxed but mind nowhere near the screen.

Kabir stretched his arm behind her seat, feigning a casual yawn. Meera didn't react.

Her eyes were on the screen, but her thoughts had long drifted—to another theatre, another film, another man.

Angad.

His name echoed like a soft, persistent whisper. She tried to push it back, again and again, but it refused to leave.

On screen, a romantic moment played out. The hero leaned in. The music swelled.

Kabir leaned closer too.

"This part's coming out well, huh?" he whispered with a half-smile.

Meera gave a small nod, her lips twitching faintly—though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Then, without warning, Kabir's voice turned low. "Would it be wrong if I asked for a kiss now?"

Meera's breath caught.

A kiss?

She hadn't expected that—not from Kabir, not here, not yet. Her instinct was to retreat, to say no, to guard the part of her heart still healing.

But something about the moment—about Kabir's patience, his vulnerability, the emptiness she was tired of—made her pause.

He wasn't Angad. He wasn't trying to be.

Her voice trembled. "Kabir... I don't know..."

A beat passed.

Then, slowly, she nodded. A hesitant, weary sort of yes.

Kabir leaned in, inch by inch. The moment stretched thin around them, silent and tense.

Just as their lips were about to meet, a sudden noise shattered the stillness.

Clack.

A soda bottle tumbled from the aisle behind them, rolling down the sloped floor with a hollow clatter.

Both startled, they turned, instinctively alert.

Standing at the edge of the aisle, silhouetted against the dim projection light, were figures—motionless, watching.

Kabir staggered to his feet as the shadowed figures advanced toward them. His instincts flared—protect Meera.

"Stay behind me," he growled, pushing her gently behind the seat.

The men didn't speak. They lunged. Kabir fought—his fists landing solid hits, driven by adrenaline and fury—but they kept coming, like a wave too heavy to withstand. One blow struck his temple, and his vision blurred. Another punch to his ribs knocked the wind out of him.

He collapsed to the ground.

"Meera—run!" he gasped hoarsely, trying to rise.

But before he could get back on his feet, they grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down the aisle. With one final kick to his stomach, they hurled him out of the theatre and slammed the doors shut behind him.

Inside, Meera's heart pounded like a drum. Panic surged in her chest as the men slowly turned toward her.

"Please," she said, her voice shaking. "Don't come any closer."

They didn't listen.

Meera backed away, her mind racing—not just with fear, but with fury. She was not the same girl who had once waited for life to fix itself. She knew she had to act—fast.

Her eyes darted across the dark theatre. Her hand reached into her purse—shaking, fumbling—until her fingers found the small pepper spray her Aapa had insisted she carry.

As one of the men lunged toward her, she unleashed it directly into his eyes.

He screamed, reeling back.

The others faltered—just for a heartbeat. But that brief hesitation was all Meera needed. With trembling hands and fierce resolve, she hurled her bag at the nearest attacker, aiming for his face. But he caught it mid-air and, without pause, flung it back at her.

The heavy impact struck Meera squarely, and pain shot through her forehead. Her vision blurred, the room spinning around her. Dizziness overtook her senses.

Sensing her vulnerability, the men surged forward.

Meera staggered back, still trying to fight them off with the remnants of her strength—kicking, clawing, refusing to go down quietly. Her spirit burned bright, even as her body began to betray her.

Her pulse raced, her vision still foggy from the blow. She heard footsteps—heavy, approaching. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Please..." she whispered, barely able to move.

But pleading only seemed to fuel their cruelty. They advanced. She tried to scream, but her voice cracked. Her limbs flailed, desperate to push them away. She fought—furious, trembling, brave.

But she was one, and they were many.

What followed was more than just violence. The men closed in on her like predators long starved, tearing at her clothes with sickening urgency. She struggled to fight back and cried out for help.

Outside, Kabir heard her screams and, mustering every ounce of strength left in him, tried to force the theatre doors open. But the brutal beating he had endured had left him too weak to break through.

Inside, one of the men forced himself on Meera. Unable to resist any further, she was subjected to repeated assault as multiple perpetrators took turns violating her.

Due to the severity of her injuries and the trauma inflicted, Meera remained immobile and unresponsive throughout the continued attack. Her mind began to retreat, dissociating from the horror unfolding—a defense mechanism her body clung to.

Images flickered through her memory: her father teaching her how to ride a bicycle, her Aapa reminding her to be careful late at night, Angad's quiet strength. She tried to hold on to those—anything that reminded her she was more than what was being done to her.

In the suffocating darkness, something inside her refused to break. Even when her body was overwhelmed, her spirit kept whispering: You will survive this.

Outside the locked theatre, Kabir—who had earlier attempted to intervene—collapsed from his injuries and the emotional shock of hearing her cries for help.

And then—just as suddenly as it began—it was over. The men fled like cowards, leaving Meera behind in the wreckage of what should have been an ordinary evening.

Her body was bruised, her spirit battered—but she was still alive. She curled up on the cold floor, sobs wracking her frame.

------

To be continued.