But it wasn’t, and reality rarely bent for wishes.
My phone buzzed loudly, jolting me out of my thoughts. A calendar reminder flashed across the screen: Meeting with Abhiraj Sisodiya. He wanted me to decorate his new shopping complex, and for some reason, he had scheduled the meeting at his sprawling house. It was already 8:30 AM, and I was due there at 11:30.
I ended up arriving thirty minutes late.
"You’re not on time."
The deep baritone voice came from behind me. I spun around to find him standing there in dark trousers and a perfectly fitteddress shirt. He was dressed slightly more casually than his usual attire, yet he looked undeniably handsome. Abhiraj was the kind of man who didn’t need to announce his presence or power; the air around him simply shifted to accommodate it.
"Mr. Sisodiya," I acknowledged, offering a slightly teasing, apologetic smile.
"Abhiraj," he corrected softly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "We’re not in a boardroom."
"Alright, Abhiraj."
Once we settled in, the meeting began like any typical consultation. I walked him through design layouts, color palettes, and spatial planning. But as I explained the mockups, I realized Abhiraj wasn’t just listening to my presentation.
He was studying me.
His intense, unwavering observation made my skin prickle. I hated it when he looked at me like that. It made me entirely too self-conscious.
“You’re distracted,” he said suddenly.
I paused for a heartbeat, my hand hovering over the paperwork. Then, I forced myself to flip the page. “I’m not.”
Abhiraj leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “You’ve missed two major details in your own presentation,” he said calmly. “That’s not like you, Kavya.”
My fingers stilled. I exhaled slowly and closed the file, the slap of the cover echoing in the quiet room. “Let’s just finish themeeting.” I didn't have the mental energy for a professional facade anymore.
Abhiraj didn’t argue. He gave a small, perceptive nod, but his gaze never left my face. After a moment, he stood up. “Come with me.”
I frowned. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Normally, I would have refused, but the weight of the week had left me drained. I didn't want to provoke him with my foul mood, so I simply followed.
His home was a testament to his success, a sprawling sanctuary of luxury. As we walked, we passed a private theater, a gym, a boxing ring, and a swimming pool. Then, we reached a wide, open room. A dance studio? Why on earth did he need a dance studio?
Abhiraj stopped in front of a far wall. It wasn't a normal wall; it was a floor-to-ceiling display of trophies and awards. There were so many I had to strain my neck to see the ones at the top. I began to read the inscriptions: *State Competition, Interstate, Regional, International.* My heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Every single one was for dance. I froze, reading the words again to be sure. I looked at Abhiraj, then back at the trophies, some gold, some crystal, all of them sophisticated and hard-won.
“You dance?” I asked, my voice returning in a breathy shock.
Abhiraj glanced at the wall casually, as if looking at a grocery list. “I used to compete.”
“Used to?” I echoed.
He shrugged. “Business took over. I didn’t have your husband's grit, the courage to follow a dream instead of the family legacy.”
I stepped closer, my fingers brushing the cool metal of a contemporary dance trophy. “Contemporary,” I whispered.
“You recognize the style,” Abhiraj noted, watching me.
“I’m a Kathak dancer,” I replied.
“I know.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I answered it, grateful for the distraction.