Chapter 42 :

20 September, Saturday, 2025

11:40 a.m.

Anvaya's POV

It's been two days.

Two days since I tried to end myself only to end up under his breaths. Two days since he made me realise who I truly belonged to.

Yesterday I remained locked in my room, and he didn't show up either.

But that day, something surprised me.

Even for once, he didn't look down at my body. I was naked, free to his lust and desires, yet, he didn't look down for even once. After the kiss, he wrapped me in a bath robe and left.

That didn't make him any sane or made me see him in a soft light. No. That'd not happen.

Yesterday, I just sat and thought. My mind was messed up, but it never forgot to remind me of the touches he'd left on my skin. His lips had left their taste on mine. Every time I touched my lips, I remembered his lips on mine.

I sighed.

He was at work at the moment, so I was alone because his wife was at her work too. Had some other woman been in her place, she'd have kicked me out of the house or would've done something horrible to ruin me because according to her, I pulled her husband.

But Viola, she didn't do anything, except for warning me, which sounded both futile and important. I don't know what to understand. I can't blame her entirely for getting furious at me because which wife would like to see her husband with another woman?

Her anger was justified. It just needed the right place to vent out on. And that wasn't me. I never asked to be involved with a married man.

What do I even do now?

I can't run away. I can't even ask for legal help because this country favours money over honesty. And my plea for freedom won't even be heard.

My thumb caressed the wrist, which was supposed to be bruised and I was supposed to be mixed with the soil, had I pressed the blade harder. But he didn't let me.

I looked away, sitting mindlessly on the balcony, wondering I didn't know what.

A knock fell on the door.

I didn't turn around, just let the person get in.

A maid stepped on the balcony, holding a red file. I looked up at her, who bowed at me slightly as a greeting.

"Ma'am, Mr. Oberoi has asked you to deliver this health report file to his office," she said, forwarding the file.

I frowned, "Why? Isn't there anyone else?"

She shook her head, "There is, ma'am. But sir said that there's something to be discussed about it with the nutritionist so he needs to see you."

My heart shook, knowing I wasn't at all ready to face him. But I couldn't deny it. I had no choice.

Nodding at her, I took the file, before she left the place. I examined it, turning it around. I don't know how I'll react upon seeing him.

Standing up, I went inside the room to get changed.

I wore a deep brown leather skirt reaching the lower knee length, a beige light shirt over my red bra. Tying up my hair in a low ponytail, I did some makeup, including red lipstick. Wearing some accessories, I sprayed some vanilla perfume and picked up my bag with the essentials, the file and left.

I was absent minded. But I had to get ready properly because it was my first time going to his office. I hope I don't come across Viola.

•

12:20 p.m.

The driver dropped me at the office entrance. The tall skyscraper in tinted blue glass, stood tall under the grey, cloudy sky. Soft wind was blowing today, as winter was slowly approaching India.

With my left hand I straightened my skirt. Stepping inside, I just focused on my heels clicking against the marble floor, because the presence of so many confident people walking around made me nervous.

No one spared a glance at me. And it wasn't like I wasn't used to crowds. Hospitals had more people than this but I wasn't used to the corporate world.

Their straight face and mechanical movements held no empathy or understanding. They worked like under command, before clocking out at late evening.

Standing by the reception, I knocked on the counter, "Excuse me."

The receptionist looked up at me, a lady in light blue shirt and deep blue skirt. That was an uniform, for I saw many women wearing that.

"Yes? How may I held you?"

"Uh—I was called by Mr. Kaaryaksh Oberoi. Can you tell me his cabin location?"

"Please hand me the appointment letter."

"I don't have one. He called me for a meeting today itself." I reasoned. It felt weird because of the way she was eyeing me. I wouldn't have cared about anything at all, had I been in my free life.

But ever since he entered my life, I'd been withdrawn and distant. I didn't socialize much, just stayed in my own zone.

And now the sudden change in the environment disturbed my mind. I was wrapped in solitude for many months now, after how he followed me like my own shadow just because I were friends with David.

"Then I'm sorry. I can't help with it." Her reply came, mechanical.

I pressed my lips in a thin line, as I looked around to find some help.

I'll just call him.

Taking out my phone, I dialled his number. But the line didn't connect, just a lifeless beep echoed from the other side. Sighing in frustration, I hung up and tightened my grip on the file and my purse, as I just stood there.

"Are you Ms. Shaurya?" a deep voice asked, making me look at my right.

There stood the same man I'd seen days ago. His secretary.

"Oh, yes I am." I smiled politely.

He nodded, reciprocating my smile.

"I'd almost forgotten your face," he laughed.

I smiled. He was friendly, indeed.

"It's fine. Can you lead me to Mr. Oberoi's cabin? He sent for me," I said, softly.

He nodded, "Sure, come with me."

As we walked to the elevator, he kept talking. Mr Holland was in his late twenties, gentle and good looking. His way of behaving with women was the most appealing feature to me. He smiled at the end of every question or response, making me feel at ease.

After a long time I was smiling properly, feeling comfortable and free. I wasn't uncomfortable with Kaaryaksh, but he was different. He was cold, reserved and someone in the dark.

"Mr Holland, do you have any girlfriend?" I asked, looking up at him, while the elevator went up.

He shook his head, "I don't. Never found a woman as beautiful as you."

I rolled my eyes, cheeks burning in shyness. He was good at flirting, even though friendly.

"Stop flirting."

He laughed, "Outside flirting, you're indeed beautiful. Mr Oberoi has got a beautiful doctor, indeed."

And suddenly, my smile felt heavy.

I liked him, even though it was wrong. But we can't control our feelings, so was our heart.

I hadn't seen that the day would come when I'd harbour slight, soft feelings for the man who'd bound me around him without consent. He never forced himself on me, he never did anything that hurt my dignity in a wrong way, he never even talked softly but his way of comforting, the way he'd be present when I'd be hurting and no one would be by me—made me feel like that.

This wasn't something ideal. He gave me nothing sort of what a woman would desire or want in her life. But maybe the desperation in my heart to escape those haunting memories and to feel secured somewhere, I took whatever he gave me. Be it good or not.

It might not be the bare minimum or even something desired, but when the  soul is starved of something for a long time, it accepts anything when something is offered to it.

I don't even know how I caught those feelings.

This wasn't justifiable, to feel for a married man. But there wasn't anything between him and Viola, and it was him who pulled me in.

But still, I don't know what to understand or do. I couldn't justify anything. Not even my own actions.

The way Mr Holland teased me about Kaaryaksh, it didn't make me feel good. It's because—who was I even?

His doctor. Justified.

But there existed much more between us than a doctor and her patient would have. He touched me with my consent, we kissed, we got closer than the justified distance.

But the name?

There was none for the relation we had.

Maybe a mistress?

Isn't that what women like me called in the elite society?

I laughed in my mind at how I'd become someone's mistress from being an independent doctor, a woman who stood confidently and was loved by all; an ambivert.

This is what I worked all my life for?

"Ms. Shaurya," Mr Holland called, startling me.

I looked up at him, startled, "Huh? Did you say something, Mr. Holland?"

"I'd been calling you," he said, looking at me in concern.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking something."

"Are you… okay?"

I nodded mindlessly, "Yes, I am." I gave a weak smile, and he didn't press further, luckily.

"We're here. Come with me," he said, as we both got out of the elevator. We walked across the same hallway I'd walked a few months ago. But I didn't remember it.

Knocking on the door thrice, he opened the door for me, before I got inside and he closed the door, not entering the room. Looking away from him, I looked in front of me, where sat the person behind my ruined sanity.

He was signing some documents, focused with his glasses on. He was wearing a black shirt and office pants, sleeves rolled up revealing his shining silver wrist watch and obviously, the tattoos. The coat was hung on the backrest of his chair.

"Stop staring and come here," he muttered, still not looking up at me.

It was unusual.

Clutching the file tighter, I padded across the floor to him table, feeling odd about the way he spoke. His tone was heavier, not just the husky tone he had. It was different, as if displeased with something.

Or maybe I was just overthinking.

His side profile looked quite sharp, perfect under the dim light rays. The room wasn't very bright, mirroring his lifestyle and aura.

Keeping down the pen, he looked up at me, as I straightened my posture and looked into his eyes.

While his one hand rested on the table, the other rested on the armrest, as he looked at me with uttering anything. His direct gaze on me, while I stood so close, made me feel bare.

His strong, muscular frame was another day's topic.

"Had a good noon?" he asked.

I frowned, "Yes, maybe."

"Maybe? I thought you enjoyed it."

"Huh? What do you mean, Mr. Oberoi?" confusion laced my voice, unable to understand what he meant.

His piercing gaze bore into me.

"You're too innocent, aren't you?" it felt more like a mockery, than a question.

My jaw tightened. I was already frustrated about everything that has been happening recently and now his twisted words infuriated me.

"What do you even want? Just say it."

My tone came out rather harsh.

"You."