The Mahindra Thar's engine purred softly as Arjun Sharma navigated the bustling streets of Mumbai, Shalini Sharma seated beside him, her sprained ankle elevated on a cushion. The air inside the car carried the faint antiseptic scent of a first-aid kit, a stark contrast to the spicy aroma of street food drifting through the open window. Arjun pulled into the parking lot of a nearby hospital, the vehicle's sleek lines drawing a few curious glances. Inside, a quick 500-rupee X-ray revealed a sprained ankle and a soft tissue contusion on Shalini's calf. "Faster than the old days," Arjun muttered, recalling lengthier past visits, impressed by the efficiency.
The doctor, a stern man with a clipboard, realigned Shalini's foot bone with a gentle tug, his expression serious. "Rest for 10 days to a month," he warned. "No weight-bearing." Shalini's face fell, worry creasing her brow. "That's my income—fitness coaching," she said, her voice tight. Arjun placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure it out," he promised, noting her reliance on this work as a non-local in Mumbai. The diagnosis loomed large, threatening her independence.
Determined to ease her burden, Arjun tracked down the Bicycle boy's parents using Beach surveillance and a quick police call. After a tense negotiation, he secured 12,000 rupees in compensation. "This covers your medical costs and lost work," he told Shalini, handing her the cash. She hesitated, tempted to forgive the boy, but Arjun shook his head. "No letting him off easy—he needs to learn." Her gratitude mingled with relief as she accepted the money.
Shalini, originally from Pune and sharing a flat in Andheri with roommate Smita Nair, planned to have her aunt visit to help during recovery. "You're tougher than you look," Arjun said, admiring her self-reliance. As they waited in the lobby, Smita arrived, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the Thar outside. "Whose car is that?" she asked, her mind racing with matchmaking hopes, unaware it belonged to Arjun. She strode in, her slim figure poised, eager to meet the "wealthy owner."
Spotting Arjun, Shreya's expression darkened. She recognized him from a prior blocked interaction on a social app where he'd called her "too old" at 32. "You!" she snapped, her voice sharp. "How dare you call me old and then play hard to get?" Arjun, unfazed, leaned back in his chair. "You're sensitive about age, aren't you?" he retorted, drawing on his forum experience to deflect her attack. "No need to explain myself." Smita 's cheeks flushed with anger.
Shalini, oblivious to their history, chimed in. "Smita, this is Arjun Sir—my client. He's rich and handsome, owns that Thar out there!" Smita 's jaw dropped, her assumptions unraveling. She'd pegged Arjun as a poor Maruti driver from their past encounter. "Liar!" she accused, turning to Shalini. "He rejected me, saying I'm old, and now he's deceiving you with this car!" Shalini's eyes widened, shock replacing her earlier pride.
Mortified, Shalini shrank in her seat, her face burning. "Smita, stop!" she hissed, fearing she'd offended Arjun, whose 90,000-rupee fitness program and Thar proved his affluence. The luxury car, a symbol of his ₹32,51,390 wealth, contradicted Smita's claims. Arjun remained calm, the Midlife Mastery System's guidance steadying him. "Let's focus on your recovery, Shalini," he said, ignoring Smita's outburst. The hospital's hum filled the silence, the Thar's presence outside a quiet testament to his resilience amid the brewing storm.