Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-14: The Art of Grace & Grit

The evening was charged with an air of importance and anticipation as the Rajvansh family welcomed their esteemed guest, Mr. Omar Al-Fahad, one of the most influential businessmen in the UAE, known for his sharp intellect and vast empire in the Middle East.

He arrived with his wife, a graceful woman with a poised smile, and his assistant, followed attentively to them..

The grand entrance hall echoed with polite greetings and introductions as Atharv and Sangeeta warmly welcomed their guests, exchanging pleasantries and making them feel at ease.

After some small talk, the men excused themselves to the lounge area for drinks, while Inaara and ladies talk..

Just as Atharv was about to return to the lounge, he decided to check the kitchen, intending to remind the staff to prepare the table promptly.

As he stepped in, his gaze fell upon a scene that instantly darkened his mood.

There, on the countertop, lay the Chhena poda, carefully cut into small pieces, each delicately arranged with an artful garnish.

But to Atharv, the dessert looked charred, its caramelized edges giving an impression of being burnt.

A flash of irritation crossed his face as he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

His eyes narrowed, turning a dark shade as he addressed the chef in a dangerously low voice, "What... is this?"

The chef froze, visibly nervous, glancing between the dessert and Atharv's piercing gaze.

Gathering his courage, he stammered, "S-sir... this is the dessert... Made by Mrs. Inaara... Ma'am."

The mention of Inaara's name only seemed to intensify Atharv's annoyance.

His expression hardened as he fought to keep his composure, his mind racing with frustration.

He had entrusted this evening's success to Inaara, and now, seeing what looked like a flawed dessert, his patience thinned.

As Inaara excused herself from the guests to check on the final preparations, she walked briskly towards the kitchen, her mind focused on ensuring that everything was in place.

She didn't get far before she felt a sudden, tight grip around her wrist.

Shocked, she barely had time to react as Atharv stormed toward her, pulling her swiftly and firmly into a nearby room, his grasp unyielding.

"Atharv, what are you-?" she stammered, her voice tinged with confusion and a hint of fear, trying to pull her hand free.

He finally let go but stood towering over her, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"What do you think you're doing, Inaara?" he spat, his voice a sharp, venomous whisper.

"What is that... thing you made for dessert? Are you seriously going to serve that burnt mess to my guests?"

Inaara's eyes widened, momentarily speechless. She opened her mouth to explain, "No, Atharv, it's not-"

But he cut her off, his words laced with scorn. "Enough " he snapped, his face contorted in disgust.