She didn’t look uncertain anymore. She looked prepared.
Ishani picked up the hotel key card, slid it into her clutch, and walked toward the door.
???
The Royal Palms Hotel rose before her, its illuminated facade gleaming against the night sky. Ishani stepped out of the taxi,clutch pressed tightly against her side. The doorman nodded respectfully, pulling open the heavy glass door.
Inside, the marble-floored lobby stretched before her, impossibly vast and gleaming under massive crystal chandeliers.
A woman in a crisp hotel uniform approached before Ishani reached the main desk.
“Ms. Rao?” she asked, her smile professional but warm. “Welcome to Royal Palms. We’ve been expecting you.”
Of course they had. Nothing about this week had been left to chance.
“This way, please.”
Ishani walked behind the woman through the lobby, feeling the eyes of other guests on her.
The woman guided her to a set of private elevators, not the regular ones that everyone used. These were tucked away in a quiet corner, marked by a single pair of brushed gold doors. A security panel stood beside them, requiring special access to enter.
The woman swiped her own card, then stepped back. “Your keycard will take you directly to the Presidential Suite. Have a wonderful evening, Ms. Rao.”
Then she was gone, leaving Ishani alone before the elevator doors.
This was her last chance to turn back. She could still walk out of the hotel, call a cab, go home, pretend none of this had unfolded over the past week. Return the bracelet. Donate the chocolates. Find a way to send the puppy back.
But to whom? Raghav or someone else?
The uncertainty burned more than the possibility that it was.
Slowly, she pulled the keycard from her clutch. For a second, she simply held it between her fingers. Then she pressed it to the sensor. The panel flashed green. The doors slid open without a sound.
Inside the elevator, mirrored walls surrounded her with endless versions of herself. Dressed well, eyes too bright.
Her fingers toyed with the clasp of her clutch, opening and closing it in nervous rhythm. The quiet hum of the elevator felt too intimate, like a held breath.
The numbers lit up one by one. Each floor climbed felt like crossing a line she could never uncross. Her heartbeat thudded against her ribs, heavy enough she was certain it showed through the silk. When the display shifted to “P,” her throat tightened.
The elevator slowed. Stopped. The doors parted.
Darkness waited on the other side. It wasn’t empty, it was intentional.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward slowly, then took another step. As she moved onto the soft carpet, lights flickered on in a soft glow from hidden fixtures. It was a slow bloom of gold that spread across the suite in careful stages, revealing her surroundings piece by piece.
What she saw made her freeze in mid-step.
The walls were covered. Floor to ceiling. Photographs. Large. Professionally framed. Mounted in perfect symmetry.
Her breath caught.
Every frame held the same subject.
Herself.
The nearest image showed her at her desk, brow furrowed in concentration as she organized files, completely absorbed in her task. In another, she stood by the conference room window, silhouetted against city lights, head tilted as she studied something in her hands. A third captured her speaking with Kavya, her face lit with a smile rarely seen in the office.
Ishani moved forward as if in a dream, barely registering the rose petals scattered across the floor that released their scent with each step she took. Candles lined the pathway between the photographs, their flames creating pools of golden light that drew her deeper into the suite.
