Page 19 of One Hellish Love

When they reached the office, Shekhar introduced her to the induction manager responsible for training new employees. Kashish joined the group, and Shekhar got busy with his meetings.

Meanwhile, Rudra stood in his office, gazing down through the glass walls at the conference room where the induction was taking place. His eyes found Kashish, calm and composed among the other designers. He watched her intently, so absorbed that he didn’t notice Shekhar’s arrival.

Shekhar followed Rudra’s gaze, surprised by what he saw. The way Rudra looked at Kashish—it wasn’t just about seeking forgiveness. There was something deeper, something more intense.

“What’s got you so lost?” Shekhar asked, placing a hand on Rudra’s shoulder.

Rudra didn’t answer, deflecting the question. “Tanuja’s meeting us this afternoon. We need to formally introduce her to the designer she’s so impressed with.”

“I’ll make sure Kashish is ready,” Shekhar said.

Rudra quickly turned back to his desk, immersing himself in work.

“How about a coffee break?” Shekhar suggested, trying to lighten the mood. “Like old times? At the tapari (tea-stall)?”

“I don’t need one,” Rudra muttered, his tone dismissive.

That little tea stall outside the office—the tapari—held too many memories for Rudra. He and Shekhar used to visit often, back in the days when life was simpler. The old man, Ramu, always gave them an extra cream bun for free because they were his favorite customers.

Shekhar wasn’t giving up. He dragged Rudra by the arm.

“Come on, Rudra. I know you want one.”

“Bhai, we’re grown-ups now. Stop acting like a kid.”

Shekhar’s expression turned serious.

“What am I supposed to do? My childhood with you was cut off far too soon. I never got to relive those moments with you. Is it so wrong to want them back?”

Rudra felt a pang of guilt. The more he tried to erase the memories of his childhood, the more they seemed to creep back into his life since returning to India.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Rudra conceded, grabbing his jacket.

The two brothers walked to the tea stall, where Ramu’s son, Tipu, had taken over after his father’s passing. The tea was justas good, bringing back a flood of memories for Rudra. As they sipped their tea, Rudra’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.

While Rudra was away, Kashish stepped out of the office for a break, a small wallet in hand. Spotting Shekhar at the stall, she joined him.

“Hey,” Shekhar greeted her, a little nervous. He knew Rudra was nearby and feared the inevitable confrontation between them.

“I’ll have a tea too. Tipu, one tea, please.”

Shekhar fidgeted, hoping to avoid any tension on their first day working together. “How long’s your break?”

“Thirty minutes,” Kashish replied, sipping her tea.

“Let’s hurry then,” Shekhar urged, trying to avoid Rudra and Kashish crossing paths.

They finished their tea quickly and turned to head back to the office. Just as they were leaving, Kashish’s anklet slipped off her foot and fell unnoticed to the ground. Rudra, who had been keeping his distance, silently observed the scene. He picked up the anklet, his fingers curling around the delicate silver piece. A part of him wanted to hand it to Shekhar to pass on to her, but another part of him—the part that longed for even a brief interaction with her—pushed him to call out.

“Kashish!” Rudra’s voice rang out.

Kashish’s heart jolted at the sound of his voice, his audacity to speak her name. She turned, her expression cold, Shekhar by her side, equally stunned.

Their eyes met, and Rudra stepped forward, holding out the anklet. His heart raced, his voice turning rough as he spoke.

“This is yours.”

Kashish’s eyes flickered down to the anklet before locking her icy gaze onto his again.

---