Dil Beparwah | ✔

forty eight

||CHAPTER 48||
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┊V A R U N┊

Netra tilted her head slightly to the right, greeting me up the stage. A taunting smile played on her lips as she announced my name over the applause filling the auditorium.

I buttoned my suit standing up, shaking hands and receiving pats on the back on the way. A circle of light followed my trail and led me up the steps. The screen behind her played a montage of all the stories that had led to this very moment, the audio loud enough to drown our conversation.

"Well, well, well," Netra said into my ear. "Did you lose a bet or am I the sole subject of that sour expression?"

The excellence award for this year's groundbreaking story being presented to me by a PoppinUp official was enough of a reason for her to gloat. "Trust me, the irony is not lost on me."

"Good, because you know Varun, I don't like to see the pain in your eyes."

Our last exchange came to my mind, about the clear interest she had expressed over Mikesh's beneficiary, and the warning I had laid out despite my personal opinion of Esha. "That's thoughtful."

She threw me a conniving wink that I didn't bother to decipher right then. Cameras zoomed in on me once the montage came to an end—her cue to hand me a golden memento and a glass plate with my name engraved on it.

Netra posed by congratulating me formally and passed me the mic. A joke, a taunt, and platonic list of thanks later, I was joined by my past co-workers and bosses. A flurry of têtê-à-têtês and hollow heart-to-hearts accompanied the drinks to cheer through the rest of the ceremony. Only at the after-party did Netra's confab gain some meaning, when Esha followed me to the bar and hoisted herself up on the chair.

"Hello sir."

"Esha," I acknowledged. "Congrats. The debutante award is quite an achievement."

"Thank you," her sullen response didn't reflect upon the enthusiasm. "Congratulations to you too. But sir, can I say something?"

I nodded to indicate that I was listening. She fiddled with her thumbs nervously before speaking, "I know this isn't the right time but I need to tell you this before you or M hear it from someone else. I love my space here in BizNest, but I will be resigning."

So the time had come after all. "To join PoppinUp?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Aapko kaise pata chala?"

I ordered our drinks, sparing her the details. "What prompted this decision?"

"Your scoop on Mr. Oberoi."

That was a peculiar reaction. "How come? Is it some networking drama?"

"Yes and no," Esha shrugged coyly. "I mean, of course there's that unnecessary probing and poking related to my knowledge about your piece just because I write here, but otherwise also the story is surely eye-opening. It kind of made me realize my voice as a journalist."

"It did?"

She smiled at the bartender who fixed her glass before replying. "You know sir, I've always been the dumb, eccentric girl who speaks a lot and is annoyingly opinionated about things she apparently doesn't have knowledge of just because she's rich. And I hate that—that idea people have of me."

"So you joined BizNest to prove them wrong," I concluded.

"I wanted them to take me seriously. At BizNest, I could associate myself with that ground without having the tag of a breezy airhead."