Two days had passed since I resigned from Kathir Rathore's company. The moment I walked out of that office, I thought I was making the right decision. I thought a fresh start would be easy. But now, as I stared at my phone—waiting, hoping for a call from any of the companies I had applied to—I felt an unsettling silence wrap around me.
With a sigh, I pushed off my bed, dragging my tired body downstairs. The aroma of simmering spices pulled me toward the kitchen, where I found my mother, her back turned to me, stirring a pot of chicken curry. The rhythmic clatter of the ladle against the steel pot was the only sound filling the space.
I moved beside her, rolling up my sleeves to wash the pile of dishes stacked near the sink. The cool water against my skin was a welcome distraction.
"Where are Dad and Sanjay?" I asked, my voice breaking the stillness.
"Sanjay went to his office, and your father went out to get groceries," she replied, without looking up, her fingers expertly tossing salt into the bubbling curry.
I nodded, though she wasn't watching. Silence settled between us again, but this one was comfortable.
Once lunch was done, we sprawled onto the couch, letting exhaustion melt into the soft cushions. The TV played some random series neither of us paid attention to, our focus instead on the boro biscuits we shared. The white-colored biscuits crumbled effortlessly between my fingers, their sweetness dissolving on my tongue like powder.
Just as I was about to reach for another, the main door creaked open. Both my mother and I turned our heads simultaneously.
Vino stepped inside, closing the door with an exhausted sigh. Her usually bright eyes were shadowed with something heavy, and her disheveled state—hair slightly messy, her dupatta carelessly thrown over her shoulder—told me she had gone through something frustrating. She plopped onto the couch beside me and, without a word, snatched a biscuit from my hand.
I raised a brow at her but smiled. "How was your day?"
She exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes. "Not bad, just had a minor argument with my parents."
My mom, ever the curious one, furrowed her brows. "What about?"
Vino twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers before answering. "They want to fix my marriage with an English lecturer."
Mom tilted her head. "If he's well-settled, why reject him? Parents always think about what's best for their children."
Vino groaned, crossing her arms. "Because I want to marry a CEO, not a lecturer."
I couldn't help but chuckle at her stubbornness and pulled her closer by the shoulder. "I get it. You have dreams of your own. Just let them know you're not interested."
Mom, however, shook her head. "At least meet him once. What if he turns out to be the person who truly deserves you?"
Vino fell silent for a moment, swinging her leg idly. "Fine. I'll try."
I patted her shoulder with a smile, but before we could continue, another creak at the door made us look up.
Sanjay stepped inside, his face drained of color, exhaustion evident in his slumped posture. He loosened his tie with one hand, the other hanging limply by his side. His smile looked forced, a mere mask trying to hide something underneath.
"Sanjay, you're home early?" Mom asked, concern flickering in her eyes.
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah… just tired. I need a nap."
Something in his tone—something hesitant—made my stomach twist. I knew my brother too well. He was hiding something.
As he turned to head upstairs, my mother moved to get up. "I'll make him some coffee."
I stopped her with a gentle press on her thigh. "I'll do it."
She gave me a nod, and I got up, heading into the kitchen. My hands moved automatically, pouring coffee grounds into the machine, but my mind was elsewhere—playing and replaying Sanjay's weary expression.
Once the coffee was ready, I climbed the stairs and knocked on his door.
A few seconds passed before his voice, faint and strained, called out, "Come in."
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The sight before me sent another wave of unease through my chest.
Sanjay sat on the edge of his bed, still in his office clothes, his tie loosely draped around his collar. His hands were clasped together, his fingers pressing into his knuckles as if trying to ground himself.
I handed him the cup, watching as he forced a small smile before taking a sip.
"Sanjay," I murmured, watching his face carefully. "I know you're hiding something. What is it?"
His eyes flickered to mine, and for a second, he seemed on the verge of breaking. His lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated. Finally, he placed the cup down and let out a shaky breath.
"Vidya… we're going to lose everything."
My heart clenched. "What do you mean?"
His voice trembled. "I have a debt with STM Company. If I don't pay them back, I'll lose everything."
A sharp chill ran down my spine. "Sanjay…"
"I gave this house and my office documents as a guarantee. I was so sure about Kathir Sir's project. If that deal had gone through, I'd have had the money to settle everything. But now… no news, no call… and I only have four days left."
His words felt like a dagger to my chest. My breathing grew shallow as images of homelessness, of despair, clouded my mind. Our father's health wasn't good—how could he handle this?
Sanjay rubbed his forehead, his frustration evident. "There is one way out… but it's an unanswered way."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
His jaw clenched. "Kathir Rathore's project. It's worth two million, but there's no news about it."
My pulse pounded in my ears. Was it because of me? Did he stop the project just because I resigned?
I glanced at Sanjay, his restlessness clear, and gripped his shoulders tightly. "Stop overthinking. We'll find a way. We have to."
Sanjay gave a small nod, though his anxiety didn't fade. I handed him the cup again, urging him to drink, and then stepped out of the room.
As soon as I reached my bedroom, I shut the door and collapsed onto my bed, grabbing my laptop. My fingers moved frantically, searching for job listings, for loan options—anything. But the thought of taking another risk, another debt, made my chest tighten.
My head pounded like a stone being pressed against my skull. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. I had to be strong. I had to do something.
Squeezing my temples, I tried to block out the overwhelming thoughts.
Then, Sanjay's words echoed in my mind.
"Kathir Rathore's project. It's worth two million."
My eyes shot open.
I knew what I had to do.
With a sigh, exhaustion finally overtook me. My head fell onto the plush bed, my breathing slowing as sleep pulled me under—an escape from the nightmare reality had become.
But tomorrow, I would wake up and face it.
And I would find a way.