Raanjhaana

2

The next day, Kusum entered the courtroom with her usual determination, but a small, uncharacteristic hint of unease gnawed at her. Yesterday's session with Neil Kapoor had been a strange mixture of irritation and... something else she couldn't quite name. His relentless charm, his sly smiles—it all felt unsettlingly familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint why.

She mentally shook herself. Focus, Kusum. You're here to win, not to wonder about the defense's eccentricities.

But as soon as she walked into the room, there he was, leaning casually against the defense table, his eyes on her with that same maddening smile.

"Good morning, Miss Patel," he greeted, his tone smooth and infuriatingly friendly. "Ready for round two?"

"Some of us prefer to call it 'pursuing justice,'" she replied sharply, refusing to indulge him in banter. "Not everyone treats this as a game, Mr. Kapoor."

He chuckled, unfazed. "Who says I'm playing?"

Kusum frowned, unsure what to make of that response, but before she could retort, the judge entered, and they both settled into their roles. As she presented her arguments, she felt Neil's gaze on her, watching her closely, as though he could see beyond her words.

When it was his turn, he picked apart her points with a frustrating ease, his tone light and conversational, winning over the jury with his effortless charisma. Kusum's irritation simmered, and she caught herself clenching her fists.

After the session ended, she was gathering her notes when Neil appeared beside her, closer than she'd have preferred.

"You know, Kusum, you've always been the type to get wound up over small things," he said in an almost thoughtful tone.

Kusum froze, feeling an inexplicable flash of déjà vu at his words. "What are you talking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "We've only just met."

He grinned, his expression both amused and cryptic. "Maybe so. But some things are just obvious."

She felt a strange tension ripple through her, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "I prefer to focus on facts, not pointless chatter."

"Fair enough," he said with a casual shrug. "But it's interesting how some people don't change at all, even with time."

She turned to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Neil's smile softened just a bit, something almost fond flickering in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could dwell on it. "Oh, nothing," he replied lightly. "Just thinking out loud."

Kusum gritted her teeth, her curiosity sparking despite her better judgment. There was something about his words, his gaze—it felt almost as though he were... reminiscing? But that didn't make any sense.

"Let's keep our conversations professional, Mr. Kapoor," she said, doing her best to dismiss the uneasy feeling. "I'm not interested in playing whatever game you're trying to start."

Neil just gave a small, knowing smile, as if he'd expected her response. "Alright, Patel. I can play it your way. See you in court tomorrow."

He walked away, leaving her with a faint frustration and a thousand questions she couldn't shake.

Later that Evening

Back in her office, Kusum tried to refocus on her case, pouring over her notes and preparing for tomorrow's arguments. But Neil's words replayed in her mind, along with that strange look he'd given her. She hated how it had unsettled her, how it seemed to poke at a memory just out of reach.

She brushed it off, forcing herself to concentrate. She didn't have time to wonder about Neil Kapoor's odd remarks or his too-familiar smiles. Tomorrow, she would go in with twice the focus, twice the strategy. She would beat him at his own game.

But, deep down, as she stared at her case files, she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that there was something she'd forgotten—something that, somehow, Neil Kapoor hadn't.

The Next Day

The courtroom was buzzing with tension the next morning, and Kusum felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as she took her place at the plaintiff's table. She was prepared, confident. Today, she'd leave Neil no room for his charming diversions.

But when Neil entered, he looked even more infuriatingly at ease than usual. He caught her eye as he approached the defense table and, without a word, placed a candy wrapper in front of her—a brightly colored orange one with a faded cartoon elephant on it.

Kusum blinked, staring at it in confusion.

"A peace offering," he said, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "For all those arguments over candy. I figured you'd still prefer orange."

She picked up the wrapper, trying to hide her frown as a faint sense of nostalgia tugged at her. She used to love orange candies as a kid, and something about the wrapper seemed oddly familiar. But before she could dwell on it, Neil had already moved to his table, his attention on his notes.

Kusum clenched her fist around the wrapper, determined to ignore the strange pull of memories. She wouldn't let herself get distracted by his cryptic gestures or that teasing smile. She'd play his game only to the extent she needed to win, nothing more.

As she turned her attention back to the case, she reminded herself: Neil Kapoor was just an opponent—a talented, irritating opponent, but nothing more. Whatever game he thought he was playing, Kusum Patel wasn't interested in figuring it out.

But as she threw the candy wrapper into her bag, part of her couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the verge of remembering something—something important, something she'd left behind a long time ago.