She furrowed her brows trying to decipher what he meant. ‘What dream?’
A brief flash of panic flickered in his eyes, but then he hid it behind a smile. ‘You know… I’ve seen too many Bollywood movies, I guess. I always thought gifting anklets to someone is kind of epic,’ he said, laughing awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
It was a good enough cover, and he was clearly hoping she’d buy it, but seeing how he nervously avoided her gaze sparked suspicion in her. She wondered again, was there something he wasn’t telling her?
The alarm went off with a gentle chime, muffled inside the depths of her clutch. Her heart sank before she even looked at the screen.
Five minutes to midnight.
Siya glanced at him, already feeling the ache of leaving from here. The shadows softened the sharp edges of his face, but he stayed silent, as if even he was not sure what to say with so little time left.
‘It’s time, huh?’
She reluctantly nodded.
He got down on one knee and slipped on her heel as he looked up with a sad smile. ‘Let’s get the princess back to her castle.’
Chapter 5
Present Day
Siya opened the door of her apartment and swung it closed behind her. The adrenaline was crashing hard, and just taking off her heels drained the rest of her energy. She stumbled onto the couch and pulled Kashvi’s comforter around her.
The night wind blew loose strands of her hair and tangled them against her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to push them away.
She still felt trapped at that dinner table. The argument played on a loop in her mind, but one moment stood out the most. The way Abhay had spoken up on her behalf had splintered the anger that encased her heart.
Her father’s cold ambition clashing against Abhay’s concern had lit a spark of rebellion in her. When Abhay had said her opinions mattered, it meant more to her than she wanted to admit. Especially when she had spent the last four years convincing herself everything they once had was a lie.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and a wild thought took seed in her mind. Could she have been wrong back then? Maybe she had jumped to conclusions. Maybe—
The doorbell rang, shattering her train of thought. It rang again, multiple times. She had an inkling of who it was, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to face him just yet.
Her stomach dropped, and with the blanket around her, she padded barefoot to the door. Kartik stood in the hallway, dressed in the same jacket as before. It looked like he had come straight here after the dinner with the Agrawals.
Siya had been hoping to avoid this confrontation for a day or two, but she should have known her luck would run out before that.
He didn’t wait for an invitation—he simply walked in as if he owned the place. His overpowering cologne drifted in with him.
Kartik stopped in the middle of the room and scanned the modest living setup. His expression said it all. ‘I’ll never understand why you girls choose to live here.’
There it is, Siya thought to herself. She let out a long sigh, shut the door, and turned to face him. She swept her gaze over the room and tried to see it from his perspective.
The furniture consisted of essentials only, with no bespoke designer tag on them. Kashvi had picked the curtains and drapes from a factory outlet on sale, and filled their apartment with little clay models designed by her. The rent for the place left little margin in Siya’s monthly budget, but they managed very well.
The walls were adorned with some of the paintings their mother had made before she passed away. They were the only things worth millions, painted by one of the country’s coveted jewellery designers at the time, but nothing could make Siya sell them. They were a part of her mother’s legacy, and that made them priceless in her eyes.
To Siya, the place felt like home, filled with love and shared moments between her and Kashvi, but she could see how it would look bland to him. After all, he was well-known for collecting antiques and hosting private showings at the Kashyap townhouse. But he’d never made space for his late wife’s paintings, so Siya brought them here.
‘It’s enough for us. We love it here,’ Siya said.
‘Love what, living like unpaid interns? We are the Kashyaps, Siya. You need to maintain the image of being a part of this family. I still don’t understand why you moved out of our townhouse and came here,’ he noted with a hint of anger.
The way he said it made it sound like they were living in a dumpster. She fought the tide of anger rising deep within her.
Siya knew her father loved to hold on to the delusion of a united family, and growing up, she did everything she could to make it true, but as an adult, she refused to contribute to that falsity. She simply said, ‘Kashu and I like our space. We’re fine here.’
‘You have all the space you want there. Dhruv lives there too, doesn’t he? At least one of my kids understands the value of living close to the family. On the other hand, you chose to move to Bandra, far from us.’
