They were the eyes of an honest man.
Rekha was the liar. And she was wrong about him. She had to be.
My throat tightened. Pressure built behind the back of my eyes.
I blinked fast, willing it to go away. The sting. The ache. Theguilt. Jai didn’t deserve this betrayal. My chest caved under the pressure of everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Shame crawled up my neck, slowly and suffocatingly.
‘What is it?’ He stepped closer. ‘You weren’t okay when you came in either.’
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, but no words left my mouth.
His large hand engulfed mine and raised it. ‘You’re shaking,’ he murmured.
The warmth of his skin seeped through mine. It steadied me in the way I’d needed since my meeting with Rekha.
‘Did someone say something to you? Did something happen?’ His voice remained gentle, but the razor’s edge running beneath it was unmistakable. ‘Who was it?’
‘N-no,’ I whispered. ‘I just … I … my friend and I argued. I’m upset because of it.’
‘I’m a good listener. If you want to talk about it.’
‘Thank you, but I’m okay.’ I slid my hand out of his hold. ‘We should get back to work.’ The heat of his touch lingered. ‘What did you need?’
Jai’s eyes pierced mine. With the way he was looking at me … he knew I wasn’t telling him everything.
‘I need to focus on the Mahala pitch,’ he said, letting it slide. ‘Please hold my calls for me. And don’t let anyone through unless it’s an emergency.’
I nodded. ‘You got it.’
8
Guilt Trip
Ananya
Today was the big day.
Once Jai finalised his business plan for the new line, he reached out to the Mahala family. I didn’t know the details of their call, but he said he had one opportunity to pitch it, and it had to be perfect. We’d pulled several late nights and worked through the weekends, fine-tuning our proposal until my brain felt like it was made of spreadsheets and mock-ups.
And now, here we were, 35,000 feet in the air, en route to Bhagalpur, a small village in Bihar.
I’d sent Jai a list of flight and hotel options, expecting him to pick one. He took one look at them and told me to book the best available villa instead (which I understood, because even the best hotels there were worse than three-star properties in Mumbai) and that we’d be taking his private jet. Apparently, going through airports at odd hours and sitting next to strangers was too much of an inconvenience.
I glanced around at the cream leather seats, polished mahogany panels and the two smartly dressed, model-like attendants. Jai said I could ask for whatever I wanted for breakfast and they’d whip it up. There was also a bedroom in the backthat I accidentally discovered while looking for the bathroom.
This was convenience on another level.
Beside me, Jai sat with a cup of chai in his hand, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. To him, this wasn’t luxury or indulgence; it was as inconspicuous as air – something he didn’t even notice.
I was bored and had no work to do. The adrenaline of the past few weeks had finally burned out, leaving me drained. I sank deeper into my seat, my eyelids growing heavier with each passing second.
Maybe I need to rest my eyes for a bit …
‘Ananya,’ Jai’s soft voice made me stir.
I blinked awake and realised I’d been using Jai’s shoulder as my pillow.
