The question hit me like a physical blow. My fingers tightened around my phone.
“…No,” I replied, without looking back.
“Will he?”
I closed my eyes for a brief second, feeling the weight of the secret. “I’ll tell him,” I said quietly, though I didn’t know how.
_______
Chapter 33
KAVYA
The heavy scent of polished wood and old dust filled the air of Abhiraj’s private studio. I stood in the center of the room, the familiar weight of my ghungroos wrapped around my ankles, though today they felt like lead. Each tiny bell felt like a reminder of the secret I was keeping, a rhythmic ticking clock against my skin.
Abhiraj stood by the music system, dressed in simple black workout gear that contrasted sharply with my cotton suit and the vibrant dupatta wrapped firmly around my waist. He looked professional, and entirely too observant.
“Kathak and Contemporary,” he mused, tapping a rhythm against his thigh. “The grace of your footwork against the fluidity of my movement. It’s a bridge between the traditional and the modern, Kavya. But if the bridge is weak, we both fall.”
“I won’t fall,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I was thinking of Kirti’s fragile smile in that hospital bed. I couldn’t afford to fall.
“We’ll see,” he replied and then he hit play.
The music began, a haunting fusion of sitar strings and a deep, pulsing electronic beat. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the *Taal* enter my blood. *Ta-thei-thei-tat.* My feet movedinstinctively, the sharp, percussive sounds of the bells echoing through the silent room.
But as I transitioned into a *chakkar* Abhiraj moved into my space. Unlike the structured lines of my dance, he moved like water, unpredictable and sweeping. He looked so graceful and so smooth. He reached out, his hand catching my waist to stabilize a turn I hadn’t finished.
I flinched, my rhythm breaking instantly. The bells let out a discordant jangle.
“No personal involvement, remember?” I snapped, stepping back, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Abhiraj didn’t move his hand right away. He kept his gaze locked on mine, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I told you, dance requires trust. You’re stiff, Kavya. You’re dancing like someone is holding a gun to your head.”
Because someone is, I thought bitterly. My father. Time. Poverty.
“Again,” he commanded, ignoring my glare.
The next hour was a blur of frustration. Every time we tried to synchronize, the wall I had built around myself got in the way. Kathak was my soul, my expression of stories and emotions, but with Abhiraj watching me, I felt exposed. He was a contemporary dancer; he used his whole body to tell a story, leaping and sliding, while I remained centered and upright.
“Stop,” he said, breathing hard. He walked toward me, stopping just inches away. “In this sequence, I’m supposed to catch youas you fall back from a spin. You’re resisting the lean. You don’t trust that I’ll be there.”
“It’s hard to trust a man who makes deals out of people’s desperation,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
A shadow passed over his face, something that looked almost like pain, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Believe what you want about me. But if you want that prize money for your sister, you have to let go of the fear for three minutes on that stage.”
He held out his hand. “Again. From the transition.”
I took a breath, shoving the image of Saurav’s face to the back of my mind. I couldn't think about his "no more lies" promise right now. I had to be a dancer. Nothing else.
The music swelled. This time, when the turn came, I let myself go. I spun, the world blurring into a whirl of colors, and as the rhythm peaked, I leaned back into the void.
Warm, strong arms caught me instantly. Abhiraj held me firmly, his chest rising and falling against my back. For a heartbeat, the studio was silent except for our synchronized breathing.
“Better,” he murmured near my ear.
I straightened up quickly, smoothing my dupatta. “I should go. I need to check on Kirti.”
“Kavya,” he called out as I reached for my bag. I stopped but didn’t turn around. “You’re a brilliant dancer. Don’t let the weight of the world mute your bells.”