Page 161 of Lawfully Yours
At Verma & Associates, Kushal was in his cabin with Raj Verma, deep in discussion about a case, until he leaned back slightly and called out to the peon, asking him to get a coffee.
Arundhati, who had just stepped out of her own cabin across the hall, heard it as the door was open. She didn’t wait for the peon to shuffle off to the pantry. She went herself and brewed his coffee exactly the way he liked, and then, on a mischievous impulse, she sprinkled a heart shape on the froth with cocoa powder, the way they did in the cafés.
She slid the cup onto the tray and handed it back to the peon. From the glass walls of Kushal’s cabin, she had the perfect view. Her uncle Raj was mid-sentence when the peon placed the coffee in front of Kushal, who reached for it, and then froze as his eyes landed squarely on the little heart.
He didn’t need to guess who had done it. He knew. And he also knew she was watching.
Instead of drinking, Kushal slid the cup across the table toward Raj.
Arundhati’s smile evaporated. Her brows shot up, lips parting in disbelief. She couldn’t take it anymore and marched into the cabin, files clutched in hand as a flimsy excuse for her intrusion.
“Uncle, you needed these documents for the Sharma case—” She stopped, glaring at the untouched cup now resting in front of her uncle.
Raj Verma’s eyes flicked from her to the cocoa heart. Realisation dawned instantly that this was Aru’s little gesture for Kushal, who rejected it coldly.
He blinked at the cup, then at Kushal. “What’s this, Kushal?Youasked for a coffee, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Kushal said evenly, his gaze deliberately fixed anywhere but where his wife stood frowning. “But I don’t like… that heart on it.”
She clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to yell after Kushal, who rose from his chair without a glance at her.
“Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “I’ll make my own coffee.” And he walked out. Raj picked up the cup, studied the heart, and chuckled softly.
“Well, I wouldn’t waste such a… heartful coffee,” he said warmly, taking a sip.
She faked a smile, before leaving the cabin with her failed plan.
*****************
The next evening, Arundhati decided to test another angle. The sun had already dipped low when she stood outside the tall penthouse door, her bag slung at her side.
Arundhati had court today in the afternoon, after which she drove back directly to the penthouse. She tapped her foot impatiently, phone pressed to her ear as she dialled Kushal, who was still at Verma and Associates, flipping through some trial prep notes.
He answered in a few rings.
“Yes?” he sounded busy.
Her lips curved into a sly smile.
“Kushal, I’ve just reached home. I mean, I’m outside the door. My keycard is in my cabin at the office. I can’t get inside. Unless…” She let the pause stretch, baiting him. “Unless you just tell me the passcode?”
There was silence on the line. She knew him well enough to picture it: his jaw tightening, pen frozen mid-note, those sexy eyes narrowing.
But he wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what she was fishing for. The digits that once unlocked their home,her birthday, erased and replaced by something else. She wanted to know what had taken her place.
“Stay put,” he sharply replied. “I’ll call security. They’ll bring you a fresh card.”
“Kushal,” she interrupted, “why bother the poor guard? Just four digits. Say it.”
“Not happening,” he replied flatly, cutting the call before her protest reached him.
The line went dead. Her blood boiled. She stood there glaring at the locked door, muttering every curse she could think of under her breath. Of course, he wouldn’t give in. His ego wouldn’t let him.
She exhaled sharply, glaring at the keypad as though it had personally betrayed her.
Those four digits weren’t just numbers. They were his wall, his way of telling her she was still locked out of his heart.
It was twenty minutes later when the guard appeared, holding a freshly programmed card. She snatched it from him with a forced smile and marched inside the house.
