Ruh ki Thirkan

Chapter 42: Buried Resentments

Ishika’s heart pounded in her chest as she and Arav sat across from one another. The table between them felt more like a battlefield than a professional space. His presence was suffocating, and she couldn't help but notice the underlying tension simmering just beneath his icy exterior.

Arav’s gaze never wavered as the rest of her team started the discussion about the marketing collaboration between Kapoor Industries and Arav’s production house. The project was significant, involving a joint campaign promoting dance and cultural heritage in India, something Kapoor Industries had taken on as a way to broaden its image. But the partnership wasn’t what had everyone on edge.

It was the undeniable friction between their two leads.

“Mr. Malhotra,” Ishika began, her voice professional, but distant. “We’ve outlined the key elements of the campaign in this proposal. I’d like your team’s input before we finalize the budget.”

Arav leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His jaw tightened as he listened, but his eyes told another story. They flickered with something she couldn’t quite place—something darker than anger. Perhaps betrayal, perhaps pain. Ishika wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’ll review it,” Arav replied, his voice curt. “But I expect everything to be completed on schedule. I don’t have time for inefficiencies or… distractions.”

His words were sharp, laced with an edge that made Ishika flinch internally. He might as well have said it outright. *I don’t have time for you.*

Ishika nodded, keeping her composure despite the rising heat in her cheeks. “I assure you, there won’t be any delays on our end.”

The rest of the meeting dragged on, but the actual business being discussed felt secondary to the unspoken dialogue between them. Arav was deliberate in keeping everything formal, addressing her as “Miss Kapoor” with a calculated coldness that made her chest tighten.

When the meeting finally concluded, Ishika stood, gathering her things. The rest of her team left quickly, eager to escape the tension that had dominated the room.

As Arav lingered by the door, Ishika found herself hesitating. She knew she should just walk away, but something inside her couldn’t let it go.

“Arav,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He paused but didn’t turn to face her. His hand hovered over the door handle, his shoulders visibly tense.

“I… I just want to explain—” she started, her voice faltering.

“Don’t.” His voice was clipped, almost cruel. “There’s nothing to explain, Miss Kapoor.”

She winced at the formal address, feeling the sting of the distance he was forcing between them. This wasn’t the Arav she knew—the one who had once looked at her with warmth in his eyes, who had pushed her to be better but had also been there when she faltered.

This was a man hardened by betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” Ishika whispered, not sure if he even heard her.

Arav turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see the sharp line of his jaw, clenched in frustration. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

Before she could say another word, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that left her feeling hollow.

---

The days that followed were a blur of meetings, deadlines, and preparations for the campaign. Ishika threw herself into her work, determined to bury the emotions swirling inside her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the looming presence of Arav Malhotra in her life.

Their paths continued to cross as they worked on the campaign, but every interaction was the same—cold, formal, and distant. He maintained a strict professionalism, never once slipping into the familiar warmth they used to share.

And it hurt. Every time he looked past her, every time he addressed her with that detached tone, it chipped away at the walls she had tried to build around her heart.

But the tension wasn’t just between them.

There was something bubbling beneath the surface, something unsaid that kept pulling them closer despite the distance they maintained. The proximity during their meetings, the occasional brush of hands when passing papers, the way his eyes lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking—it all hinted at emotions neither of them wanted to confront.

---

One afternoon, as Ishika was finalizing details for the campaign, her phone buzzed with a message.

*Meet me in the studio.*

Her heart skipped a beat. It was from Arav.

Confused but curious, she made her way to the studio located in the same building. The space was quiet, the sound of her footsteps echoing off the polished wooden floors. She entered cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Arav stood in the center of the room, his back to her as he stared at the large mirrors lining the walls. The tension in the air was palpable.

“You wanted to see me?” Ishika asked, her voice barely steady.

Arav didn’t turn around, his eyes locked on their reflections in the mirror. “Why are you still here, Ishika?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand…”

“You should’ve stayed in Paris,” he said coldly, finally turning to face her. His expression was a mix of anger and something else—something she couldn’t quite place. “You had everything there. A future. A business. So why did you come back?”

Ishika felt a lump form in her throat. She wasn’t prepared for this confrontation, not now, not like this.

“I came back because my family needed me,” she replied softly. “The business—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “This isn’t about your family or the business. You could’ve stayed away. You could’ve stayed in Paris, away from all of this.” His hand gestured to the studio, to the space they had once shared.

“I had to come back,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Why?!” Arav demanded, stepping closer, his eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and anger.

Ishika swallowed, her pulse quickening. She didn’t have an answer, at least not one that she could admit to herself. The truth was, she had been running—from him, from her feelings, from the life she had once wanted but had been too scared to embrace.

And now, standing in front of him, she realized just how much of a mistake that had been.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Arav’s expression hardened, the walls going back up. “That’s the problem, Ishika. You never know.”

He turned his back to her again, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Go back to your life, Miss Kapoor. I have no room for people who can’t make up their minds.”

The formal address stung like a slap, and Ishika felt the tears she had been holding back finally spill over. She took a shaky breath, knowing that this time, she couldn’t fix what had been broken.

Without another word, she turned and left the studio, her heart heavier than it had ever been.

___

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