Aparna Sawant, a woman who prioritizes her independence and fulfilling career, has never subscribed to the idea of happily ever after. Marriage, for her, is a practical decision.
Varad Oberoi, a successful businessman hardened by past experiences...
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A P A R N A
Nine months into my arranged engagement with Mohit Shah, my life had settled into a comfortable routine. We weren't lovebirds, but a companionship had blossomed. He was someone I genuinely cared about, a rarity in my circle. So, when the call came at midnight, my world tilted on its axis.
Rushing to the hospital in my sleepwear, adrenaline coursed through my veins. "I'm here for Mohit Shah," I rasped at the receptionist, my voice thick with panic.
"Are you family?" she inquired, barely glancing up from her screen.
"Fiancée," I clarified.
Her gaze softened as she directed me towards the ICU. "Mr. Shah is in there."
A man in his late twenties, presumably Mohit's relative, was already there, conversing with a doctor. Relief washed over me momentarily. But as the doctor spoke, the blood drained from my face.
"He's perfectly fine, just a scratch on his forehead. He can be discharged right away, if you'd like."
Confused, I stammered, "Doctor, uh... Mohit Shah?"
"Yes, Ms. Sawant? I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Mr. Shah has only a few hours, I'm afraid. Internal bleeding." Pity flickered in his eyes, a familiar emotion I loathed.
Pity was all I received seven years ago when I was abandoned. Back then, everyone's eyes held the same sentiment. Only Antara offered solace – the love and support I craved.
"The police want to speak to you and Mr. Oberoi about the accident," the doctor added, gesturing towards the distraught man in the suit. Mr. Oberoi?
He was a titan in the corporate world, the CEO of Oberoi Automobiles, a company I yearned to work for. But this was hardly the dream introduction I envisioned.
The doctor led us to a secluded area where a police inspector and his team awaited. We exchanged introductions – me, the fiancée, and Mr. Oberoi, the... husband? My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Do you know the child with them?" the inspector inquired. A child?
"He's my son," Mr. Oberoi mumbled, his voice devoid of warmth.
A whirlwind of questions followed. I denied knowing Mrs. Oberoi and claimed limited knowledge of Mohit's whereabouts. The strained silence between Mr. Oberoi and me spoke volumes.
Finally, the interrogation ended. Exhaustion gnawed at me. It had been nearly eight hours since the life-altering call, and sleep deprivation was taking its toll. Just then, my phone buzzed with Antara's insistent calls.
"Okay, fine, you can come," I sighed, answering after what felt like an eternity.
Antara, my best friend, had been a pillar of strength throughout. As I explained the grim situation, a booming voice echoed from down the hall. It was Mr. Oberoi, his booming voice laced with frustration.
"About damn time! Where were you? I've been calling nonstop!" he yelled into the phone.
The conversation that followed painted a picture of a ruthless businessman. He cancelled meetings, fired his assistant, and coldly informed his in-laws – Mrs. Oberoi's parents – about their daughter's impending demise all within the span of five minutes.
I couldn't help but feel a sliver of sympathy for them. Their daughter was on her deathbed, and they had to deal with his callous demeanor. Just then, a tiny voice broke the tense atmosphere.
The doctor, now holding a baby boy, approached Mr. Oberoi. The child's infectious smile and playful demeanor caused a metamorphosis in the stoic businessman. A genuine smile softened his features, and his cold gaze melted into warmth as he showered the baby with kisses.
This tiny human, Junior Oberoi as I learned, held immense power over his father. The ruthless CEO transformed into a doting dad, his cold exterior replaced by a fierce protectiveness.
Suddenly, Antara barged in, her usual composure shattered. "Apu! Where is Jiju? Is he okay?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with worry.
Mr. Oberoi, now cradling his sleeping son, shot a wary glance at Antara.
"Shh," I cautioned, gesturing towards the sleeping Junior Oberoi. "There are kids here."
Antara, ever the blunt one, seemed unfazed. She had never warmed up to Mohit, her suspicions lingering around his reluctance to marry.
"The doctors don't think he'll make it," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
"But where was he going?" she pressed, her voice laced with suspicion. And rightfully so.
"He mentioned Pune for a conference," I offered, the memory sparking a new question in my mind. "Why was a married lady and her child with him, though?"
Antara's eyes narrowed. "Who and what now?"
I explained everything to her and watched as her confused expression was replaced with realization and anger.
"Where is my daughter?" We were interrupted by a lady walking towards Mr. Oberoi sleeping son. They would have looked adorable if Mr. Oberoi didn't have a scowl plastered on his face.
"Is she ok?" The man- Mrs. Oberoi's father- asked his son-in-law. Both of them had their back towards me so I couldn't see their face but their voice was familiar. I couldn't pinpoint exactly but I had surely heard them a lot.
"She's dying in a few hours." Mr. Rich-guy-with-attitude said.
"Can we see her?" His mother-in-law asked, or more like yelled, causing Junior Oberoi to shift in his sleep. His father's bored eyes immediately turned cold and he glared at the woman in front of him.
"Go ask the doctor; and lower your voice for fuck's sake!" He whisper-yelled at them.
The older couple flinched at his cold tone but turned around anyways to talk to the doctor.
But as soon as they turned around, I cursed all my stars for my bad luck. My hand immediately flew to the necklace around my throat, playing with the diamonds of the charm on it.
The woman- my mother- let out a harsh gasp and her husband- my father- narrowed his eyes in distaste.
