Am I evil just because I changed a few things in the file? Just because I couldn't stand the thought of her sitting there on a date?
I saw her in that cafe, with him. And so, I disturbed it.
Bold of her to assume she could date someone else, I thought to myself. Love has never been a choice for me—but Nandini Singh… she is the only choice I will ever make.
I walked into my study. Ryan. Manager in a software company. Interesting.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Happy birthday, son."
A voice. A voice I knew too well. Sunita—my stepmother.
"Thank you for taking the time to call me just to ruin my day," I said, almost laughing, before hanging up. She always called. Not to wish me, but to remind me.
I closed my eyes, memories flooding in. My father should never have remarried after my mother died. He said he loved her, but the truth was simpler—he couldn't stand living alone. So he brought Sunita into the house. Love was just a bullshit word to cover up.
From the day she stepped in, I knew I didn't belong there anymore.
I shouldn't think about this. Not today. It's my birthday. God, how childish.
I moved toward the bookshelf, searching for some files, when my hand brushed against something else. My diary. I pulled it out, sat down, and began flipping through it. Old pages. Old pictures. I wasn't usually sentimental, but this… this pulled me back to a time when I actually remembered happiness.
I didn't notice morning had come until sunlight crept into the room. Closing the diary, I sat still, sinking deeper into the past.
And so the day began. My birthday.
"Happiest birthday, sir," Ronak, my PA, greeted.
I glanced at him and nodded. "Hmm. Thanks."
"What's my schedule?"
"A meeting with a few officers, sir. That's all."
After the meeting, I finally checked my phone, which had been on silent. A message from Nandini lit up the screen:
I want to meet you, sir. I want to give you the file. I'll come to your home at 5 p.m.
I checked the clock. Past 4 already.
Rushing out, I drove home, my chest tightening with an unfamiliar anticipation. I waited. The doorbell rang.
I opened it—and there she was. Nandini. A small box in her hands. Shy, blinking nervously. In a purple saree that made her look… breathtaking.
"Happy birthday, Vy—sir," she said, smiling softly.
I stared at her, caught off guard. "I'm surprised."
She stepped in, setting the box on the table.
"Where's the file?" I asked.
"Oh, I already sent it to your office this morning," she said quickly. "I came because… well, I found out it was your birthday. I thought I'd surprise you. I guessed you'd be spending it alone anyway."
My chest tightened again. "You didn't have to, Nandini."
"I wanted to," she said, her voice softer this time.
She opened the box, revealing a small chocolate cake.
"I wasn't sure what you liked," she admitted.
For the first time in years, I almost laughed. "You brought me cake?"
She grinned. "It's your birthday, sir. Birthdays mean cake."
"Birthdays are just another day," I muttered, yet my hand still reached for the knife she offered.
She clapped her hands together. "Make a wish!"
I shook my head, but still cut the cake. For a second, it felt like something I hadn't felt in a long time. She felt like… home.
"Now you have to feed me," she teased suddenly.
I raised an eyebrow. "That's not how this works."
"Of course it is."
I gave her a look but finally broke off a small piece, holding it out. She leaned forward, took it, and smiled triumphantly. "See? Not so hard."
"Childish," I muttered, but when she cut a piece for me and held it out, I didn't refuse.
Her smile softened as I chewed. "Tastes good, right?"
I sighed. "It's okay."
We sat together for a while, eating quietly, a strange calm filling the air. She glanced around before looking back at me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You already are," I said, leaning back.
"Why didn't your family come today?" Her voice was gentle, careful.
For a long time, I didn't answer. My eyes drifted to the darkened window. The memories clawed their way back.
"I don't have a family. My mother died when I was young," I said at last, my tone flat, controlled. "Car accident."
Her smile faded. She lowered her eyes. "I'm… sorry."
I didn't let the silence grow. "My father remarried. Sunita—my stepmother. We never got along. The day she walked in, I knew I didn't belong anymore."
"And your father?" she asked quietly.
"He died of a heart attack a few years later." My throat tightened, but I forced it out. "So no. There's no family left to celebrate birthdays."
The silence that followed was heavy. She placed her hand lightly on the table, close but not touching mine.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered, eyes glistening. "I'm bad at this."
I leaned a little closer, my voice low. "I'm not sad, Nandini." With a small tug, I pulled her chair nearer. Her eyes widened.
"Now it's good," I murmured.
"Good what?" she asked, confused, shy.
"You. Near me."
Her lips parted, a blush blooming on her cheeks before she turned away. "You're funny," she muttered, trying to hide her smile.
"Am I?" I smirked.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Do you really hate birthdays, or do you just say that to sound mysterious?"
"Mysterious?"
She grinned. "Mm-hm. Grumpy, quiet, birthday-hating Vyom."
A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Better than being childish enough to make me feed you cake."
Her laugh came, light and unguarded, spilling into the quiet like it belonged here. For a moment, it felt easy.
Then her laughter softened, and she bit her lip, hesitating. "Actually, I do have a gift for you."
"A gift?" I asked, skeptical but curious.
She pulled out a small handmade card, its edges decorated, a soft lavender wash across the front. She slid it toward me, her fingers trembling. "I love making cards. So this one's for you."
I picked it up, turning it carefully in my hands. Inside, her delicate handwriting carried simple but strikingly sincere words. For someone like mewho lived in silence—it was terrifying, not because of what it said, but because of how safe it felt.
When I looked up, she was watching me, unsure.
"You made this?" I asked quietly.
She nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know what else to give you. But I wanted to give you something that was mine."
Something broke inside me then. I stood, closing the space between us, and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently to her feet. Her long hair fell forward, brushing her face. Slowly, I tucked it behind her ear.
Without thinking, I drew her into me and held her. A hug—something I never imagined myself giving, not in this lifetime, not to her.
"V-Vyom…" Her breath caught, unsteady.
I lowered my head, my voice breaking into a plea. "Don't do this, Nandini."
Her hands tightened on my shirt. "Do what?"
"Don't make me feel like I'm home," I whispered.
Because home was fragile. And if I let her become that for me, I would only end up destroying it. Destroying her.