Komal’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Fine. If that’s what you believe, then I’m with you. I’ll help you however I can.”
Just then, a voice echoed from the staircase. “Bring me a glass of orange juice,” Kanika ordered one of the housemaids.
Komal’s eyes darkened, then slowly gleamed with mischief. “You know what…” she said, tilting her head toward Mishti, “let’s make her thebestorange juice she’s ever had.”
Mishti frowned in confusion, wiping her tears. “What do you mean?”
“I promised to help you, right? Well… consider this my first step.” She grabbed Mishti’s wrist and tugged her gently toward the kitchen.
Mishti followed, hesitant but curious. “Komal, what are you planning?”
“Something harmless. Just a little reminder for Madam Kanika that she’s not welcome everywhere.”
Komal reached for the spice rack and sprinkled a generous pinch of black pepper and a dash of salt into the orange juice glass.
“Komal!” Mishti gasped. “No! What if something goes wrong?”
“Relax. I’m a doctor, remember? A little pepper in juice won’t kill anyone. But yes, it’ll surely make her cough like a drama queen for two minutes.”
Mishti still didn’t look convinced. “But what if Karan finds out and gets angry?”
“He won’t,” Komal said, winking. “Now stop worrying and tell Maria to serve it.”
Maria had just returned home by then, so Mishti hesitantly handed her the tray. “Please take this orange juice to Kanika ma’am… she asked for it.”
The two women stayed in the kitchen, while secretly waiting for the chaos to begin.
“I’m scared, Komal,” Mishti whispered, wringing her hands.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mishti! You and your pure little heart. Just wait. Dr Komal’s plans never flop.” She flicked her hair dramatically, grinning.
But before Mishti could respond, a loud, harsh coughing sound came from the living room. It was deep, hoarse, and very muchmasculine.
Komal’s grin vanished. “Wait… that didn’t sound like Kanika.”
Mishti’s heart dropped. “Oh no… please don’t tell me Karan drank it instead.”
Komal’s eyes widened, then twinkled. “If he did… well, that’s what I call divine justice.”
Mishti gasped and lightly smacked her arm before rushing out toward the living room, with Komal following close behind.
But instead of Kanika or Karan, they froze at the sight of a tall, handsome man, around Karan’s age, standing near the couch, coughing violently while holding the now-empty glass of juice.
CHAPTER 11
Wadhwa Mansion
Mishti just stared at the man, wide-eyed, while Komal hurried to him.
“F*ck, that’s… definitely not part of my plan,” Komal exclaimed, rushing forward as the man in front of them coughed violently, clutching his throat. “Someone, please bring water, quickly!”
Maria hurried to fetch a glass while Mishti panicked as his coughing grew worse. Even through his discomfort, his eyes flickered between Komal and Mishti in confusion.
When Maria returned with the glass, Mishti quickly stepped forward, offering it with both hands. “Here… drink this,” she said softly.
He took it and gulped it down in one go, his chest heaving until the coughing finally subsided. Komal instinctively placed a hand on his back and rubbed it gently.
“Breathe,” she murmured, her tone suddenly softer, more personal. “You shouldn’t have drunk that. It wasn’t meant for you.”
