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“Their car is entering the premises now,” my source updates.
I, Ayaan Shergill, am a catalyst today, a spark waiting to ignite the chaos that lies dormant within this building. Fueled by the deceit that tainted my trust, the flames of vengeance have forged a new version of me. I’m treading the razor’s edge of righteousness, unafraid to embrace the darkness in my pursuit of justice and to conquer back what’s mine.
With each inhale, I get closer to the moment when the alarm will shatter the silence, echoing through the corridors and setting into motion a chain of events that will change everything. But until that moment arrives, I stand here with a cigarette in hand, defying the very rules that govern this space.
“The Walias have got down from the car and are on their way to the building.”
It’s showtime!With a final flick of ash, I take one last drag, savouring the taste of defiance before dropping the still-lit cigarette to the ground, waiting for the smoke to trigger the alarm.
The fire alarm above me remains silent, oblivious to the impending chaos. But I know that its shrill cry will soon pierce the air, and the carefully constructed facade of this media conference in the building will crumble like a pack of cards. Just like the foundation of the Walia family in the coming days.
“Pratap Walia is speaking to some of his party leaders in Hall 2 on the ground floor,” my source continues to update.
“And Meher?” I ask, coming out of the washroom and moving stealthily through the crowd, my focus solely on finding Meher.
“She is outside Hall 3 with her guards, waiting for Pratap Walia so they can enter the conference hall together.”
Hall 3!I turn in that direction and finally see her. There she is,my Meher,exuding grace and elegance in her peach-coloured salwar suit and minimal chic makeup. Her eyes are accentuated with kohl, and her lips shimmer with a nude gloss that complements her attire. Her lustrous hair cascades freely down her shoulders, swaying with the gentle breeze. One look at the woman I love, and I stop dead in my tracks. My footsteps, my heartbeats, and my very being—all come to a standstill in awe of her beauty. She appears calm and composed, and a part of me is relieved to see her completely fine. But the moment I recall why she is here and to support whom, waves of anger surge through me. How could she stand by Pratap Walia, knowing the pain he has inflicted upon my father? How can she defend him and his wrongdoings and betray the love we shared? I seethe with disappointment and resentment, my mind racing once again with questions that only Meher can answer.
I long to confront her, but Meher remains oblivious to my presence, her attention caught by the conference looming ahead. Suddenly the sharp shrill of the fire alarm fills the air, and an uproar erupts instantaneously. People scramble helter-skelter, their fearful voices mingling with the blaring alarm. Panic spreads like wildfire, disrupting the once-controlled atmosphere of this place. Meher’s guards spring into action, quickly surrounding her and moving to escort her back to the safety of the waiting car.
I blend into the crowd amidst the frenzy like a predator lurking in the shadows. The evacuation begins, and everyone rushes towards the exit. I seize this opportunity, utilising the chaotic cover to pave my way towards Meher, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for the impact—when Meher will see me and meet my gaze.
Pushing the crowd away, I chase Meher without caring about the consequences anymore. Her guards are preoccupied with the evacuation and are utterly clueless that soon she will vanish from their vigilant watch.
As if sensing my presence, Meher turns around, her eyes meeting mine. Though she is shocked to see me here, when our eyes meet, an inexplicable connection forms once again, and lips quiver. I recall the way she had looked into my eyes with so much love and longing the night I’d devoured her heart, body and soul like the queen she was. Today, when our eyes meet again, something deeper, more profound, passes between us. In that fleeting instant, as I continue to make my way towards her, I catch a glimpse of turmoil, of conflict hidden beneath her calm exterior. Is that a flicker of regret in her gaze? Or is it simply my stupid heart still hoping she is on my side? Whatever it is, after that night in Dalhousie, this is the first time we have been this close again.
Before Meher can utter a word or tip off her guards, I grab her arm, pulling her away from their grasp and whisking her away from the prying eyes of the crowd. We find refuge behind a nearby wall, shielding ourselves from the mayhem around us. The moment we are alone, I pin her to the wall. Meher’s skin feels warm and soft under my touch, reminding me of the flashes of the night I had kissed every inch of her delectable body. Her eyes soften for a fleeting moment, reflecting a glimmer of the same love we once shared.If she loved me, she wouldn’t have deceived me!That thought creeps into my head, and without any delay, my grip on her arm loosens, and I hold her throat instead, my touch both tender and commanding.
Meher is startled as I grab her delicate throat. Fury rages within her gaze as I inch closer to her.
“Why did you deceive me?” I utter, my voice a low, dangerous whisper.
The question hangs in the air, the silence burning between us like a charged wire, electrifying the tiny space that separates us.
“Leave me,” she commands, but I don’t pay heed; instead, I squeeze her throat, albeit a little roughly, madness over her betrayal taking over my mind, blinding my sanity.
“Your father tried to kill my dad, Meher, and you are still supporting him? How could you?”
In a flicker of a second, her initial vulnerability transforms into a fit of anger.
“Ayaan, stop it. You are hurting me,” she screams, trying to push me away. To my horror, I realise she is on the verge of choking, and I immediately leave her. Meher coughs hard, gasping to breathe normally again. This is when I notice the dark circles under her eyes, which Meher has expertly tried to conceal with the makeup. Hmm. So she’s been having sleepless nights, too, just like me. As I see her struggle to regain her breath, I feel a surge of protectiveness for her as varied thoughts run through my mind.
“Is your father forcing you to side with him?” I ask, hoping to find some proof in her eyes that I am right. “Is that why you are here to show your support towards your family? Has Pratap Walia threatened you to accompany him?”
As I reach out to touch her, Meher’s hand comes crashing against my cheek, the force of the stinging slap freezing me momentarily. It’s not the physical pain that cuts deep, but the realisation that she could raise her hand at me. I clench my jaws and lift my eyes to meet her intense gaze, only to find her glaring at me.
“Furious, are you? I felt the same way when you attempted to strangle me,” Meher counters. “I can’t even imagine you would do such a thing to me!”
She shakes her head in disappointment.
“Yes, I’m standing by my father. And if you believe that doing so means deceiving you, then yes, Ayaan Shergill, Iamdeceiving you. Because I firmly believe in my father’s innocence.”
“F*ck his innocence. And f*ck you!” I snap, slamming my fist against the wall just inches away from her head. I know, being his daughter, she would be inclined to support him and stand by his side. But this time, I hope she doesn’t commit this mistake and chooses me, the truth.
“He didn’t try to kill your dad, Ayaan.” She keeps repeating, keeping her anger in check.
“He did…” I scowl, fed up with her defending Pratap Walia. “Your father is a murderer. My driver, Ramesh, died in that accident, Meher. Don’t you get that?”
