Humesha- An Accidental Love Story

1.An Accident

Manik

"What the fuck? This again?" I slammed my fist into the wall, the dull thud reverberating through my veins. The contract papers on my study table stared back at me—mocking me with their familiar weight.

No, I don't own a business. I'm only 19, and yet I'm stuck dealing with these ridiculous documents.

If you're wondering, this is not how I imagined being 19.You know the drill—the kind of life everyone expects from someone in my position: parties, carefree college drama, assignment stress, and a clear path to a shiny career, all with the loving support of doting parents.

But for me, it's anything but normal.

I'm Manik Malhotra, only son of the infamous business tycoon, Srikant Malhotra, and the ever-gracious Nyonika Malhotra. But don't let the name fool you. The life they've handed me doesn't come with silver spoons—it's a sink-or-swim survival mode I never asked for.

To the outside world, I'm the rich, spoiled kid with too much privilege. But in reality, I'm just the collateral damage of my parents' constant battles. I've spent 19 years asking myself why I even exist in this family. My parents didn't want me. They didn't ask for me. And I certainly didn't ask for them.So, yeah. Not quite the "perfect" life you might expect.

"Gopal, I need to go to Pune," I muttered, barely lifting my eyes from the mess of papers. "Tell the driver to get the car ready. I'll drive myself."

I didn't wait for a response, just tossed the papers aside and headed for my room to change. It wasn't like I had a choice. These damn documents were going to be signed one way or another, and my father was the only one who could do it.

Three hours later, I pulled up in front of a lonely mansion, shrouded by towering trees, the silence unnerving. I inhaled deeply before stepping out of the car. No one had bothered to tell me this place felt like a burial chamber.

"Dad?!" I called out, my voice echoing through the empty halls.

"Manik baba, Saheb ji is in an online meeting," Mohan, the oldest butler here, informed me with his usual low bow.

"Great," I muttered. "Tell him I'm here and that I'm not in the mood to wait. He better get down here fast."

Mohan nodded and disappeared, but I could already feel the tension building in my chest.I sank into the sofa, fidgeting with the contract papers in my hands, but no matter how many times I flipped through them, I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. Trapped in a life that wasn't mine, but that I had to live nonetheless.

An hour passed. Then another. And I was still waiting.

Screw this, I thought, rising to pace the room. What the hell was so important that my dad couldn't spare five minutes to sign this shit?I glanced up at the staircase, the emptiness in the house pressing down on me. The silence was deafening. My father's voice, the one I so desperately craved, was nowhere to be heard. It felt suffocating.

I'd always wondered why I wasn't enough to pull him away from his work. But after so many years of disappointment, I didn't even bother asking anymore.For the third time, I called out to Mohan, frustration heavy in my voice. "Kaka, is Dad planning to come down today?"

Mohan didn't flinch. He just shook his head, the lines around his eyes betraying a hint of sympathy. "Baba, Saab ji said just half an hour more. You can rest till then."

"I don't need to rest. Just get him down here so I can leave!" I snapped, my voice sharp as glass.

"Ji baba," Mohan said, bowing again before trudging off.