Intensely Twisted Fate

Chapter : 2

Shravan's POV

As I opened the door to my house and walked in, I took in our little two-bedroom flat—a place Nicholas gave us when he found out my parents and I had been kicked out of our old home. Nicholas, my boss and friend, offered us this place in good faith. Though I pay him rent based on its projected cost, I'm also searching for another apartment because I can’t stay here forever.

I’m an orphan, but these two adopted me, and they are my only parents. They had an arranged marriage. My mother was a workaholic, working day and night, even resuming work once I was old enough to handle myself. Some nights, she wouldn’t even come home. My father and I always worried about her; I love her deeply but despise her workaholic mentality. She never even took our calls.

In high school, I was more invested in my studies than anything else. Social activities didn’t interest me, and I kept my focus on academics. I studied day and night, knowing that one day, I’d be the man who would provide for my family. My parents are elderly now and unwell. My mother suffers from a brain hemorrhage. A year ago, she developed a brain tumor due to stress and overwork, and she finally stopped working. My father, who works from home in the share market, has been taking care of her, even though he has experienced episodes of depression and is currently undergoing therapy.

Back in school and college, I was ridiculed—nicknamed “nerd” and “the specky one.” I was always the teacher’s pet, answering questions and acing exams.

I met Nicholas in college. His father was a trustee, and I’d seen him around the library. After observing me and my grades, he approached me, asking if I wanted to join his company. I’m not sure what he saw in me, but he seemed to believe I could help run the firm. While he made me his second assistant, with responsibilities across departments, I also worked on his schedule and other tasks, allowing him to pay me better. Nicholas was a great help because he knew my situation at home.

After graduation, I joined his company, where I’ve been working for the past six years. Five years ago, I met Laranya, someone who was a carbon copy of my mother—a workaholic who embraced stress. Sometimes I even help her with her tasks. But in person, I find her both unpleasant and foolish. Despite that, I’ve had feelings for her since I first saw her.

I may not know her situation, but I care about her. She’s not the kind of person to entertain much, which makes her like me in some ways. Right now, though, she’s really starting to get under my skin. We were good friends at first, but she started avoiding me because of her boyfriend.

Yesterday, when I brought her to my secret cabin, she tried to be polite, but as usual, she irritated me. I was annoying her too, so it was best to keep some distance; otherwise, I might end up just as work-obsessed—or worse, a lone lover.

Tonight, I’m going to take a shower, give my folks their medications, and get some solid sleep. They’re the reason I’m doing this job. My real passion was photography, but I had to sell my cameras and give it all up. So I guess this is better.

---

The next day, I walked into the office and immediately noticed her. She was working on her notes, and the exhaustion in her eyes told me she hadn’t slept. Her clothes were the same as yesterday’s. She hadn’t even gone home.

I was about to approach her when the head of the article department called me over. Work began right away, since Ignatius, our boss, is on a four-day business trip. The department heads are taking all major decisions, and I’m assisting them. I don’t mind, though; they never overload me.

“Shravan, I know you have your own work, but I just assigned Laranya a particularly important topic. It’s due tomorrow evening, and it’s a big one,” the HOD explained. “Knowing Laranya, she wouldn’t ask for help, but I’d really appreciate it if you could assist her. Honestly, you’re the only other person who’s written about this subject before, and we don’t have time for practice on short notice. Besides, everyone’s swamped with other projects. The company is growing fast, as you know.”

She skipped her lunch yesterday and only ate late in the evening. Today, she hadn’t even gone home. Her exhaustion was written all over her face. “I’ll help her out. Don’t worry—you’ll have it by tomorrow evening.” I smiled and walked toward her.

I stood behind her desk, watching her take notes from the internet. She’s going to work herself into an early grave. I pulled her chair back, and she jumped. “Who the hell—oh, it’s you?” She glared, clearly annoyed.

“Cat got your tongue? Can’t you speak like a normal person?” she snapped, exhausted and irritated. “Listen to me, and don’t argue for once,” I said firmly, and she gave a reluctant nod. We moved to the couches on the edge of the room, away from others.

“What do I even say? Do you need my assistance? No. HOD asked me to assist you? Not happening. Why can’t we just share the work?” I thought, my mind racing.

“Fast. I don’t have time,” she said impatiently, tapping her foot.

“Time! Yes, you don’t have time, but I do, so let me help you!” I stammered, frustrated.

“What? I don’t have time to play around with you. I’m leaving,” she said, standing up. I grabbed her wrist.

“Just… take a break, and I’ll help you with the project while you rest.” I struggled to find the right words. “But—”

“Please, just this once, don’t argue,” I interrupted, annoyed.

She huffed and headed back to her cubicle. “Wait, I’ll bring your laptop and notes. We’ll work here on the couch if you’re okay with it.” She nodded, and we got to work. Gathering information was the toughest part, but she’d already collected most of it.

“Go grab something to eat. Unless you want to starve yourself to death,” I said.

“I don’t want to.” She glanced at me, and I raised my eyebrows, prompting her to head to the café. Two minutes later, she was back, working as if nothing happened. She needs a babysitter, apparently. “What did you eat?” I asked, annoyed.

“Coffee,” she muttered. I felt like scolding her right there. “I told you to eat, not drink coffee!” Frustrated, I went to the café, bought the sandwich she usually eats, and brought it to her. She thanked me and ate quietly, but as soon as others gathered, she received disapproving stares and whispers.

She leaned over and whispered, “Send me the info you’ve collected; I’ll sit in my cubicle.” She seemed embarrassed, and I felt a pang of sympathy.

“Laranya, come with me for a second,” I said, ignoring her hesitation. We went to my hideaway, out of sight. “Be honest—are you ashamed to sit or talk with me?” I asked bluntly.

“Ashamed?” she scoffed. “Why would I be?”

“Then why did you walk away when people started giving you looks?” I pressed.

“People think you’re attractive, and they assume something’s going on between us because I only talk to you. They’ve even waited for me after hours, asking if we have a history or if anything’s happening between us,” she explained. “They envy me, thinking there’s more between us than there is.”

Melissa and some senior colleagues had apparently been harassing her for this. “Why didn’t you report them to the boss?” I asked.

“Report them? Waste time firing people over this? I’d rather keep quiet,” she said. Her loyalty to others, even when it hurt her, struck me.

“Fine. You’re coming with me after work, no arguing,” I said, determined. “If you don’t want to talk to me, so be it, but don’t risk your safety because of me.”

She glared at me. “I’m done talking. If you want the information, send it. Otherwise, I’ll manage it myself,” she muttered and walked out, slamming the door.

This has become personal now. The least I can do is ensure she gets home safely. I may have unintentionally brought this trouble on her, but now, I'll be there to protect her.