She offered a faint smile, clearly unconvinced.
Abhimanyu leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “He is right. I even texted Bhai the location,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Just in case he feels like dropping by, you know.”
Mishti shook her head slowly, her gaze still fixed on the dark screen of her phone. “Woh nahi aayenge, (he won’t come here),” she said sadly.
She knew him too well. His ego would have taken a hit tonight, and Karan Wadhwa did not walk into places where he felt unwanted or challenged, especially not for explanations he had no intention of giving. Today was different in another way too. For the first time, he had asked her to cook for him. A small thing, perhaps, but it had mattered to her.
She should have stayed.
She should have been there, serving him dinner, sitting across from him, sharing that first meal in silence or tension or whatever form it took. That moment should have belonged tothem. Instead, she had chosen to honour Rajat and Abhimanyu, the two men who had stood by her when she felt most out of place. She did not regret that choice, yet guilt pressed hard against her chest.
She did not want to ruin their mood by dragging her worry to the surface, but she knew she had hurt her husband tonight. And with Karan, hurt never passed quietly.
The waiter arrived just then, breaking her spiral of thoughts. One by one, the dishes were placed on the table, and aromas filled the space. Plates gleamed, cutlery aligned perfectly, yet her appetite had vanished.
As the last dish was set down, Mishti lifted her eyes once more toward the entrance of the restaurant, her heart betraying a foolish hope.
He would not come.
She knew it even as she wished otherwise.
Her fingers curled together under the table. If nothing else, she hoped he had eaten. That he had at least tasted the food she made for him. That he had not let anger win over hunger.
Then, with a quiet exhale, she finally looked back at the table, forcing herself to be present, even as her thoughts stayed behind, waiting in her house that suddenly felt too far away.
****************
When she returned home around eleven thirty with Abhimanyu, the first thing Mishti did was look for Maria.
She did not even pause to take off her footwear properly. The question had been lingering in her mind all through the drive back, growing heavier with every passing minute. The moment she saw Maria in the corridor, she asked her urgently, “Did Karan have dinner?”
Maria hesitated, her eyes dropping for a brief second before she answered. That hesitation alone was enough for Mishti to know.
“No, Ma’am,” Maria replied. “Sir refused to eat. Since you were not home, he did not want dinner. He went to bed without eating.”
She stood there, stunned, guilt spreading slowly through her chest. He had actually slept hungry. Not because there was no food, but because she had not been there.
Abhimanyu, sensing her distress, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry so much,” he said lightly, trying to soften the moment. “Bhai’s ego needs a little trimming anyway. You cooked for him. You even invited him for dinner, clearly. What was the harm in joining us all for one meal?”
Mishti nodded faintly, though the ache did not lift. “Still,” she murmured, “I shouldn’t have left.”
Abhimanyu smiled and added, “He will be fine tomorrow. And anyway, I am going to eat the rajma chawal myself in the morning. No breakfast for me, only that. You know I love it too. Tonight, I am already full, but tomorrow, for sure.”
That earned a small, fragile smile from her.
They parted for the night soon after. Mishti returned to her room, exhaustion finally settling into her bones. She considered checking on Karan, even standing outside his door for a moment. But the thought of facing his anger drained whatever strength she had left. The day had already been too long. The office, the boardroom, the cooking, the emotional strain, and then the dinner. She simply did not have it in her to withstand another confrontation.
Tomorrow, she decided to speak to him. But sleep refused to come.
Even by the time the clock crept past two in the morning, she was still awake, staring at the ceiling, the image of Karan going to bed hungry replaying relentlessly in her mind.
Restless and uneasy, she finally gave in.
She slipped out of bed, pulled a soft pink robe over her nightgown, and stepped quietly out of her room, straight down the stairs without sound. Her first instinct was to check the bar counter at the far end of the living room. Karan had a habit of drinking late into the night when his thoughts refused to settle.
But the bar was empty.
