I let out a bitter laugh, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “Are you even listening to me, Mom? I just told you I don’t want this, and here you are, steamrolling over everything I said like my feelings don’t even matter!” My voice rises. “You think forcing me into an engagement will magically fix everything? That I’ll suddenly wake up one day and be okay with a life I never wanted? Newsflash, Mom—it doesn’t work that way! You’re so hell-bent on making this happen that you don’t even care if I’m miserable in the process.” I shake my head, anger pulsing through me. “If you really think a wedding solves everything, then go ahead, plan it. But don’t expect me to show up.”
Mom sucks in a sharp breath before she lashes out. “How dare you speak to me like that, Aditya?” she seethes, her patiencefinally snapping. “I think I’ve been too lenient with you for you to be talking back like this. But not anymore. You will get engaged this weekend, whether you like it or not!” she declares and ends the call without waiting for my reply.
I stare at the phone in my hand, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. A hollow laugh escapes me, though there’s nothing remotely amusing about this.
Unbelievable. She actually thinks she can force me into this. That I’ll just comply and go along with it. She has no idea how wrong she is.
Frustration coils in my chest like a vice. I slam the phone onto my desk, raking a hand through my hair. My heart pounds, anger and irritation warring inside me.
A sharp knock on my office door pulls me back to the present, but barely. I don’t even get the chance to respond before Naitra steps inside, holding a folder in her hands.
“Mr. Thakur, we need to go over the sales report,” she says, settling into the chair across from me.
I barely glance at her, still seething from the conversation with Mom. My fingers drum against the desk impatiently as she flips open the folder.
“So, this quarter’s numbers show a five percent overall increase, but there’s been a slight drop in—”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” I mutter, waving a dismissive hand.
Naitra pauses, her brows drawing together slightly. “Actually, Mr. Thakur, there’s a noticeable decline in revenue from our high-end clients. If we don’t address—”
“The numbers always fluctuate. It’ll fix itself,” I cut in, rubbing my temples.
She hesitates but continues, her tone steady. “Mr. Thakur, I really think we should analyse the data properly before assuming—”
I exhale sharply, my irritation spiking. “Naitra, just send me a summary later.”
She blinks, straightening. “But, Mr. Thakur—”
“I said later, damn it!” I snap, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
Naitra’s eyes widen slightly, her fingers pausing over the page. “Mr. Thakur, we just can’t…” she tries again, but I don’t let her. I push back from my desk, standing abruptly as frustration claws at my chest.
“Does it look like I’m in the headspace to discuss numbers right now?” My voice is sharp, clipped. “This can damn well wait.”
Naitra’s lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t argue. Instead, she studies me, her expression calm and composed. Then, to my utter frustration, she simply gives me a nod.
I curse under my breath, dragging a hand down my face as I slump back into my chair. Damn it.
“Look,” I let out a slow breath and look at her, my tone softer now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take that out on you. That was uncalled for. Can we do this later?”
For a moment, she just watches me and then offers a small, understanding smile. “Of course, Mr. Thakur,” she says, closing the folder and rising from her chair. “I’ll check back later,” she adds before she walks out.
I rub my temples, feeling guilty. As if my mind wasn’t already drowning in frustration, now I’m snapping at people who don’t deserve it.
But the next minute, regret is replaced with anger as Mom’s words ring in my ears, taunting me.You will get engaged this weekend, whether you like it or not.The way she dismissed me still burns through me.
I shake my head.Like hell I will get engaged this weekend.
Looking around, I murmur, “I need to get the hell out of here.” I can’t stay here. Not with Mom forcing a wedding down my throat, not with Sana refusing to accept us, not with my own heart waging war against me. It’s too much—too damn much. I fucking need a break, an escape, something to silence the noise before it drowns me completely.
My hands tighten into fists before I exhale sharply and grab my car keys off the desk. Without another thought, I push out of the office and get into my car. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to get away before it all eats me up alive.
Chapter 27
Sana
I toss another shirt into my suitcase, my phone wedged between my shoulder and ear as Mili’s ever-sceptical voice crackles through the line.
