Reverse Vows || AkshNav ||

Chapter 2 | Abhinav

After days of trying to brush off the mess I'd created, I'm back in the Big Apple, still not ready to confront the disaster I've unleashed. I exit the car the moment Raymond parks in front of my building, breeze past the doorman, and slide into the elevator. While checking voicemails, I push away thoughts about what awaits me in my apartment.

Will I have to engage in conversation with her? Answer a barrage of questions?

God, I hope not. I'm not in the mood for chit-chat, especially if I'm sticking to my plan of keeping her at arm's length.

Stepping over the threshold, I instantly sense her absence. A mix of relief and annoyance washes over me—relief for the solitude I prefer, annoyance because she's not where she's supposed to be. I toss my luggage in my bedroom and methodically explore the apartment, flicking lights on and off, scrutinizing every corner. I look for any signs of disturbance, wondering if she'd even been here after I left. When I reach the last room—the one she should be occupying—and find it unchanged from when I departed for London, I massage my neck, attempting to stave off the impending headache. Stepping onto the terrace, I gaze down at the bustling city, contemplating my next move.

What the hell have I done?

**********************

A few weeks earlier...

Upon receiving the lobby's call about her arrival, I left my office to await her by the elevators. The goal was to intercept her before she reached the meeting room, where her remaining family members were scheduled to join in thirty minutes. Shortly after, the elevator doors chimed open, revealing Akshara Goenka stepping out.

Her brown hair flowed in waves, with bangs nearly covering her eyes. She wore minimal makeup, paired with simple black jeans and a modest white blouse. As she approached the reception desk, I stood ready for her.

"Hello. How can I help you?" Deb, our receptionist, inquired with a polished smile.

Listening to Akshara clear her throat and seeing her fingers clutch the desk's edge, I awaited her introduction. "Hi. I'm here for the Goenka meet—"

Before she could finish, Deb noticed me waiting and completely ignored Akshara, turning her gaze to me. "Mr. Sharma? Is there anything I can do for you? Your two-thirty appoint—"

"No, there isn't." Ignoring Deb's surprise, I fixed my gaze on Akshara. "Miss Goenka." As she heard her name, she glanced over her shoulder and relinquished her grip on the desk to face me. "Your meeting is with me," I continued. "If you could follow me."

Deb interrupted as Akshara prepared to follow me, "Mr. Sharma, I think you are mistaken. The Goenkas' meeti—"

"Thank you, Deb," I interjected, indifferent to her possible offense. "Miss Goenka," I reiterated, perhaps a touch harsher than intended. I needed to conclude this meeting swiftly and proceed with my day. "This way, please."

After a quick glance at Deb, Akshara moved closer. "Mr. Sharma? I think there might be a mistake here. I'm supposed to meet with Mr. Reeves—"

"I can assure you there are no mistakes. If you wouldn't mind stepping into my office for some privacy, there are some things I'd like to go over with you." I observed, impatiently, as she contemplated the situation.

"I was told I was needed to sign something and then I could leave. I have another appointment in Brooklyn, so I can't stay for too long."

I gave her a curt nod.

Following a brief hesitation and another look at our receptionist, she followed me toward my office in silence. After a considerable walk, I opened the glass door for her to enter. I instructed Cynthia, my assistant, not to forward any calls and waited until Akshara settled into her seat. Clutching her sizable brown handbag on her lap, she shot me an expectant look as I took my own seat behind the desk.