Intensely Twisted Fate

Chapter : 1

Laranya's POV

When I woke up, I squinted against the bright rays streaming through my window—a daily reminder that another day awaited. Our modest apartment building was more than just a home; it was a legacy from my father’s grandfather. Strange, sometimes, to think of the lives that had unfolded here before mine. My dad, Ramesh, the coolest dad ever, and my younger sister, Preeti, were the constants in my life. Since my mother passed away from cancer one year after Preeti was born, it’s been just the three of us, navigating life’s complexities together.

As I prepared for work, the smell of dosas wafted through the air, teasing my hunger. Dad was in the kitchen, a flurry of activity, preparing our breakfast and packing our tiffins. I could hear the sizzle of the pan and see his focused expression as he flipped the dosas.

“Morning, Pa!” I greeted him, trying to keep my voice cheerful despite the heaviness in my heart. It always stung a bit to see how much he still took care of us, refusing to let us take over.

“Morning! Your dosa with chutney and sambar is ready. Just a second; I’ll pass you the plate,” he replied, a warm smile lighting up his face as he turned to me. “Morning, Preeti!” he added, catching her sleepy nod.

I couldn’t help but complain, a playful whine escaping my lips, “When will you stop cooking for us? We can manage on our own!”

He chuckled softly, his laughter wrapping around me like a warm hug. “I’ll keep cooking as long as my hands and legs work! Now, eat up and head to the office. The old man needs his peace!” He pretended to threaten me with a morsel, all in good humor. Moments like these made me cherish our little family, even amidst our struggles.

Once breakfast was devoured and our tiffins packed, Preeti and I headed out. We didn’t own a car, but the bus stop was just five minutes away, and we often walked to college and work together. It was a simple routine, but comforting in the chaos of life.

Life hadn’t been easy since Dad retired from the police force. At fifty, he was forced to step down—a decision cloaked in mystery, one he’d never fully explained to us. My heart ached at the financial instability that loomed over us like a dark cloud. Thankfully, I’d landed a job just two months before his retirement, allowing me to support our family. At twenty-seven, I was a bit of a parent myself, watching over Preeti, who was only twenty-one.

The bus ride to IPC, the company where I worked as a journalist, was a blend of anticipation and dread. I didn’t socialize much with anyone there; my colleagues were just names to me. But I loved my job, even if it meant solitude in a bustling office.

When I arrived, I saw my cubicle at the far end of the open space, nestled between the editorial department and marketing team. Our manager, Nicholas Ignatius, was the epitome of kindness, often treating us to group dinners and encouraging collaboration. But today, something felt off.

As I settled in, I was startled by the sight of Shravan, my boss's personal assistant—the one person who could ruin or make my day with just his presence. With sharp features and deep-set eyes, he could be incredibly infuriating. Not only was he knowledgeable about everything—writing, publishing, you name it—but he had an uncanny way of making me feel inadequate. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly perfect?

Walking to my cubicle, I felt his gaze on me. Annoyance simmered, mixed with something deeper I refused to acknowledge. The past played in my mind like an old film reel; once, we’d shared a connection—a brief friendship that faded when I started dating Sumit. Now, we were just two people sharing the same space, bound by a professional facade.

“Gather in my office now. We have a new article to discuss,” my head of department messaged me, pulling me from my thoughts. Groaning, I stood from my chair. The office was eerily quiet, just me and the hum of the computers.