Dil Beparwah | ✔

three

||CHAPTER 3||
《¤》

┊A R V I K A┊

I had barely stepped out of the elevator Saturday morning when Mia, my PA, bombarded me with my schedule, handing me my coffee and rushing with me to my cabin. "The Raisons have emailed their requirement for the booking of Yatis' Noida branch for their son's wedding, and they want their budget to be reviewed once again."

The Raisons' were definitely, in my father's words, a brutal pain in the asś. Personal favours were a hindrance when it came to business, and the Raisons exploited every letter of the word. "My mood's too productive to be dealing with them right now. Remind me about it in the afternoon. What else?"

"Mr. Sachdev has scheduled a catch up on the software investment on the third of June-"

"-what day is that?-"

"-uh, Tuesday, no- Monday. It's a Monday, the day after tomorrow." Mia kept up with my speed walk, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Also, Mrs. Verma has arranged a meeting with the Chabras regarding the new in-home service venture, but it's on the same day as Mr. Sachdev's meeting. It's not clashing, but the schedule's tight."

"We'll make it, just make sure that Jolly Bua doesn't choose the location way too far..." I muttered under my breath, nodding at the employees I passed on my way. I had the corner office, so the long walk forced me to socialize. "And oh, please make sure my driver is here by five. Varghese' success party is tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes it is, and I've already– oh fu– I swear I have no idea where he came from!"

Of course she didn't. Laying on the couch in my office, with his feet swinging over the armrest and a book in his hand, was my fourteen year old cousin Mikhael Verma. He had quite a few strange obsessions, and one of them included sneaking into my office.

"Hey there, Khalifa. Missed me?"

Flushing red, Mia's face contorted into an expression of well sustained anger. "I'll get his driver on the call," she said to me and left my cabin.

"You," I walked towards him, shoving his legs off the arm rest, "need to learn how to behave."

"I said hi," he shrugged, reaching for my coffee. "That is proper behaviour!"

I gave him a pointed look, which of course, didn't affect him. "What are you doing here again? School mein hona chahiye na tumhe?"

"It's Saturday. School mein nahi, therapist ke paas hona chahiye thha mujhe, wo bhi kareeb aadhe ghante pehele. And before you start policing me," he flicked his wrist, showing me the time. "Ye koi time hai aane ka office mein? Mamu ko batau ki aap firse late ho gayi ho?"

That was his way of blackmailing me into keeping mum and not rattling him out to Jolly Bua. I had never been a morning person, much to my father's dismay. But that didn't mean I did not pull up late nights. Sighing, I fired up my computer and sat on my chair behind the desk.

Mikhael had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder five months ago. And like every teenager his age, he never did what he was told to do. I definitely wasn't his guardian, but for some reason, he liked turning up in my office.

He propped his baggy jeans clad legs over the plush arm-rest again. "Have you ever read this book?"

It was a brand new copy of the The 5 AM Club that he was reading. "Take a guess."