𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑.3

Dhriti sat in her office, trying to regain her composure. The day had been a whirlwind of stress, and she desperately needed a moment of peace. But even solace seemed elusive, as her phone buzzed, shattering the brief quiet. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the name flashing on the screen: 'Mrs. Vrinda Das.' A wave of anger washed over her, and she answered the call with forced calm. 

"I told you not to call me," she said, her voice tight with fury.

"Why are you calling me? What do you want?"

A soft, almost apologetic voice responded from the other end, "It's New Year's Day, Riti. I thought I'd call and wish you a happy-"

But Dhriti cut her short, her voice laced with icy disdain. "Don't call me Riti. You have no right to call me that. Only my friends and brother have that right. And I don't need your wishes, or you."

The woman on the other end choked back a sob, "Riti, I am your mother. I have more right to call you than any friend or brother."

Dhriti's anger intensified, her voice turning cold and sharp. "Mom? Which mom? I'm an orphan. My real mom, my real family, they died seven years ago. Now I only have my brother. So next time, don't even dare to call me." With that, Dhriti abruptly ended the call.

A wave of bitterness flooded her as she stared at the phone screen. Dhriti hated her family. Only her mother reached out, but Dhriti never answered. Although her mother never actively harmed her, the fact that she didn't stand up for her, didn't protect her when she needed it most, fueled Dhriti's resentment. It was a festering wound, a deep-seated anger that refused to heal, leaving Dhriti forever alienated from a family she couldn't forgive.

The initial surge of anger had subsided, leaving Dhriti with a stark realization of her mistake. Shouting at a new employee, especially on the first day of a new year, was inexcusable. She had taken her frustrations out on Smitha, who was already feeling overwhelmed and anxious. As Dhriti approached Smitha's desk, she could see the young woman's fear and distress. Smitha, trembling slightly, stood up and looked down at the floor as Dhriti drew near. In a moment of genuine remorse, Dhriti embraced Smitha, her voice filled with sincerity as she apologized.

"I am so sorry, Smitha. I took all my frustration out on you," she said.

Smitha, trying to remain composed, mumbled, "It's okay, ma'am. I didn't know you hated red roses that much. I'm really sorry." Dhriti, sensing Smitha's apprehension, reassured her, "It's okay. Don't repeat this again, okay?"

A tentative smile graced her face as she asked, "Did you see Arjun and Ruhi?"

"Yes ma'am, they're in the cafeteria," Smitha replied, her voice still a little shaky.

"Okay, thank you. You continue your work," Dhriti said, hoping to ease the tension that still lingered in the air.

Dhriti, burdened by the weight of her recent outburst, walked into the cafeteria, her shoulders slumped. Her eyes fell upon Arjun and Ruhi, engrossed in a video call.

"Are you guys sitting here!?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. Arjun, his face tight with annoyance, shot back, "Has madam's anger subsided?"

Dhriti, realizing the gravity of her actions, immediately sought forgiveness. "Sorry guys. Please forgive me. You can scold me as much as you want, I won't utter a single word," she pleaded, placing her hands over her ears.

Ruhi, with a sympathetic smile, responded, "Today we're not going to yell at you. He will scold you and make you understand, okay?" Dhriti, confused, asked, "Who?" Ruhi handed her the phone, revealing the face of her brother, Vikram Das.