Knots Of Fate

3. The Big Betrayal

The car stopped at aa cute café in a secluded part of Jaipur. The door was held open for Mr. Rathore. He rounded the car and held my door open on his butler's behalf.

Lingering his palm on the small of my back, he ushered me into the café.

Again, being the gentleman he was raised to be, he held the door of the café open for me, pulled the chair out and tucked me in once I was seated.

"What would you like to have?" Mr. Rathore asked me as his eyes skimmed through the menu stuck on the wall, too.

"Anything that's sweet, has a lots of fat. I had been on a diet for the past four months, to make sure I look prim and perfect on.. this day."

He diverted his gaze to my face for a few seconds before he looked back at the menu. He ordered for lemon soda until we decided.

Placing an order for chhole bhatore, imartis and a glass full of lassi, he waited for the waiter to leave.

"Honestly speaking, you're scaring me, Vaani." He muttered with his gaze fixed to my face. I shrugged lightly as I slurped on my lemon soda.

"I mean if you don't mind me calling you Vaani." He quickly added. He respected my sense of professionalism as much as I did his.

"I don't mind. It's actually refreshing to call me by my name rather than my surname." I shrugged.

"Are you really okay?" He asked me again. His eyes softer than usual. His tone no more formal. For once he looked like a normal human being rather than my boss.

Adyansh was a sight for sore eyes. With a tall built, he possessed dark hair and talkative black eyes. His face, at the age of twenty seven, was still boyish.

He was the stark opposite of Aman.

While Aman aimed for a simple six digit per annum central government service, Adyansh was the epitome of financial success. Though he inherited the textile companies of either of his parents, the idea of fusing both Pink City Textiles of Arunaditya Singh Rathore and Chauhan Textiles of Sanskriti Chauhan Rathore, to make Arundhati textiles was entirely his. The expansion of the fused company over Indonesia and India only in half a decade was his success rate.

While Aman was the guy who would remain silent at home within his family and suddenly become extrovert when he's out in the public, Adyansh Singh Rathore conserved his extrovert side only for his family.

The frown between his eyebrows deepened as I took a longer pause to respond to his question this time. Primarily because I had been busy comparing him with his so called childhood bestfriend, to fathom if I could even trust him.

"How should I feel, Adyansh?" I asked him. I took the liberty to extend the curtsy to call him by his name too.

And I was genuinely unsure about what to feel. Maybe, he could help me with what to feel.

"I don't know. Any other woman at your place would have been a puddle at the news of his fiance... running away." He pursed his lips.

"I really respect how strong you are, Vaani." He appreciated. "But you don't have to be. It's okay to breakdown." He consoled.

His words stirred something deep in my guts. But I still couldn't cry.

There was a pit formed inside me by the time the waiter brought our orders over.

Diving into the fluffy bhaturas , I hoped I could fill the hole in my system with all the carbs I ordered. I did not have my card or enough cash with me. But I doubt my boss would ask me to pay.