MaNan FF : Blame Game

part 4

"Spoken like a man still learning, beta. Idealism is admirable at your age, but trust me - profit survives, not sentiment. If one worker leaves, ten are waiting outside the gates."

Manik's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't argue further, but his silence was louder than words. Inside, he recoiled at the cold detachment, at the way people could be reduced to replaceable parts in a machine.

And yet... in that dismissive certainty, he caught a glimpse of Nandini.

The way she argued with him about people, about compassion, about dignity. The fire in her voice when she defended things that seemed trivial to him but vital to her.

She gets it from him,her father. Manik realized bitterly.

That same stubborn conviction, that same refusal to bend once belief has taken root.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly, breaking the circle of conversation. His tone was polite, but his eyes had cooled, shutting doors before anyone could stop him. "I need some air."

He left the cluster of men still chuckling at Mr. Murthy's words, their laughter echoing in the glittering hall like hollow applause.

As he walked away, loosening his collar slightly, Manik wondered if he was running from his father-in-law's ideology - or from the reflection of Nandini he had seen in him.

The ballroom shimmered with extravagance, but for Manik Malhotra, the shine had already dulled.

Everywhere he turned, there were men with slick smiles and sharper intentions - circling him, eager to trade cards, eager to tie their name to his legacy. Deals disguised as casual chatter. Promises hidden behind champagne laughter.

And the women... draped in glittering sarees and gowns, their wrists heavy with diamonds. They compared the weight of necklaces as if their worth rested in carats, their conversations circling husbands' achievements and designer labels like trophies.

Manik felt it like a chokehold.
The air was perfumed and suffocating.
The noise was laughter, but it grated in his ears.

Is this celebration... or exhibition?

He wanted out. Out of the endless circling, out of the shallow chatter. But he couldn't - his family's night demanded his presence. His father's eyes, his mother's pride... all tied him to this glittering prison.

Dragging in a breath, he detached himself from another over-eager group and made his way to the drink counter. The gleam of crystal glasses seemed more welcoming than the crowd.

That's when he saw her.

Nandini.

She stood a little further down the counter, her red gown flowing around her like molten silk. She was bent slightly forward, speaking softly yet firmly to the waiters - instructing them to adjust something with the dessert trays. Her gestures were precise, graceful, but her face... her face carried the sharpness of someone holding back irritation.

Their eyes met across the distance. Just for a second.

Neither looked away immediately - but neither spoke.

And then, almost deliberately, both turned back to what they were doing.

Nandini adjusted the angle of a tray, her lips pressing together, pretending to be engrossed. In truth, her heartbeat quickened.

She wanted him to come, to say something, anything, to bridge the silence between them. But she also wanted to punish him for not noticing, for not caring enough. So she ignored him, lifting her chin slightly, telling herself that if she pulled back... he'd feel it. He'd come to her.