The Girl With the Red Scarf | ✔️ [DriKshit]

Care and Confusion

DRISHTI'S POV

When Rakshit neither picked up my calls nor answered my repeated texts for two days, I finally decided to contact Sikhar. My heart had this sinking feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong. I was so worried about him, my mind inventing a thousand possiblities a minute.

Was he okay? Was he sick? What if he was sick?! There is no one in the house to take care of him!

I called Sikhar but he knew about Rakshit almost as much as I did. He had also tried calling Rakshit multiple times, but no response yet. Sikhar told me that he would have returned back if this meeting wasn't extremely crucial for the Shergill Group of Companies. He sounded worried too.
Dissapointed and worried more than ever, I hung up.

I was getting desperate and so, I decided to take a chance and go for achieving the impossible.

I knew if I told anyone I wouldn't be allowed, especially when I was still recovering from my miscarriage. But I had to do this - I had to.

After lunch, I told Maasi that I was visiting my friend Ankita who lives in the neighbourhood. Now, Maasi knew nothing about Akash (Yes, I thought we would convince her after our marriage, that is how desperate I was) my pregnancy or my miscarriage, she just knew that I was suffering from a little hormonal disbalance and had to stay home and take rest.

She sized me up and finally, after telling me to follow a million precautions, she allowed me to go, making me promise that I would come within five o'clock.

~

Surprisingly enough, I had almost no trouble finding the Shergill mansion. Rakshit had given me his home address the night before we left Bali and Google Maps is a wonderful application of technology. When I finally stopped in front of a two storey cream colored house with 'Rakshit Shergill' engraved on the name plate, it was thirty five minutes passed three.

I went up the three stone steps in front of the house and rang the door bell. Once. Twice. Thrice.

No response.

I rang the door bell repeatedly, rapped on the wooden door, but still, no response and yet, the door was locked from inside.

My heart gave a small jolt.

Was he okay?

I went round the house, checking for any other doors and to my slight surprise, I found a kitchen window open.

The window was huge and had no grills.

Seeing no other option, I tied my dupatta around my waist and jumped in through the window on the white marble floor of the kitchen.

So, here you have come Drishti Sharma - lying to your family, breaking into someone else's house... God knows what else you will be doing next...

The entire house was extraordinarily quiet. I made my way from the kitchen towards the hall, searching for the staircase that lead upstairs.

He once told me that he always stood on the balcony while we chatted on the phone, so guessing by that, his room must be upstairs.

I finally found a white marble staircase that wound up towards another hall. While climbing it, I noticed something. No matter how rich businessman Rakshit Shergill was, he lived in a mediocre house with a humble lifestyle. No fancy decorations, no extravagant tastes. The entire place felt like home.

The hall had railings on one side that looked down upon the sitting room below and on the other side, there was a row of total seven rooms. I was a little confused at first as where to go, but then I noticed that the rooms had name plates on it. The first one said Badi maa.