The bell's gentle chime drifted through the walls and corridors as Anusuiya measured the marbled floor with unhurried steps. Her anklets rang in a faint tune, the bangles joining in quiet harmony, while the soft rustle of her green Banarasi saree completed a melody that belonged to home. The aarti flame bathed her face in a serene, golden glow, catching the joyous curve of her lips.

From the top of the staircase, Rudraksh appeared in a crisp olive-green shirt paired with the quiet elegance of light cream pants. With his head lowered, he descended the steps in measured motion, his expression a mask of neutrality. Near his right shoulder, his good hand bent inward, two fingers hooking a black jacket with casual precision. The sleeve gathered awkwardly around the plaster of his casted hand, resting close to his chest.

"A very happy 25th birthday to you, beta!"

Anusuiya's voice carried the same practiced cheer she had used every year - loud enough to fill the room, bright enough to hide what it needed to. She walked toward him with the aarti plate pressed against her stomach.

The corner of Rudraksh's mouth twitched into something that might have been a smile if it had stayed longer than a breath. Without breaking stride, he measured the last three steps in one long move and reached for the chair at the breakfast table.

The light in Anusuiya's face dimmed, the tilt of her smile stiffening into a ghost of sadness.

"Where's Di?" Rudraksh's voice was flat, as though the day's importance belonged to someone else.

Anusuiya inhaled, her reply caught at the edge of her tongue-then swallowed it when the familiar high-pitched call cut through the silence.

"Many, many happiness on the return of the day, my fireball!"

Antara's voice came bubbling from the other side, bright and unfiltered, scattering the heaviness before it could settle.

Rudraksh's lips stretched into a warm smile. His gaze followed Antara as she walked toward him, Swastik nestled close in her arms.

The toddler squealed, limbs flailing in an enthusiastic chaos, his mouth opening wide as he tried to shape words between bubbly giggles. "M...Maa...bb...Maa...bba."

Rudraksh's eyes softened at the sight, and he extended his good hand, palm opening in invitation. "Come here, champ."

Swastik bounced eagerly on Antara's forearm, his little legs kicking as if they might carry him across the gap on their own.

Antara's eyes widened, and she broke into laughter, pure amusement spilling out of her. "Oh-ho! So excited to go to your uncle, hmm?"

Anusuiya watched the scene unfold, the earlier sorrow on her face dissolving into a gentler smile. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and walked toward her children.

"Beta?"

Rudraksh's hands stilled mid-motion, one supporting the baby's back as he adjusted the boy on his thigh. The smile he had worn a moment ago thinned, a faint clench of his jaw flickering beneath it as his gaze shifted from the squealing toddler to his nervous mother.

Antara's eyes moved between them, catching the subtle shift in their expressions. She remained tight-lipped and placed a warm, grounding hand on the edge of Rudraksh's shoulder.

Anusuiya extended the aarti plate toward her son and reached for the Kumkum, pinching a bit of the red powder. Her eyes drifted to his forehead as she pressed it gently between his slightly furrowed brows, shaping the powder into a rough, thin triangle.

Rudraksh's eyes closed instinctively, his head bowing in quiet reflex, born of tradition.

"May you become a record holder and make a big name in this world," Anusuiya murmured, offering a whole piece of Kaju-katli near his closed lips.

Rudraksh's mouth parted, and the smooth texture of cashew and sugar melted onto his tongue.

"Visit the temple before going to the office." Anusuiya smoothed a hand over his hair before raising her fingers briefly to her own temple. "God bless you, my child."

The shrill ring of Rudraksh's mobile shattered the calm, pulling them out of their brief pocket of ease. His gaze shifted toward the glowing device lying neatly on the tabletop.

Antara quietly lifted Swastik from his lap, settling the child against her shoulder with a protective sway.

Rudraksh reached out, bringing the phone closer to his stomach. The string of ten digits on the screen blinked at him like an uninvited guest at his doorstep. Reluctantly, he swiped the green icon across the sleek glass and pressed the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

Before the voice on the other end could answer, another shrill cry cut through the house - this time from the landline.

Anusuiya glanced toward the sound and nodded, stepping toward the coffee table with urgent but measured steps.

Rudraksh's eyes closed, his brows knitting as he returned to the call. "Hello, who is this?" His tone was stripped of any warmth.

"Rudra..."

His eyes snapped open at the sound of that voice - familiar, yet too distant. His fingers stiffened around the phone, as if that single word had reached into a place he had long kept locked.

"H-Happy b-birthday, beta," the woman on the other end whispered. A choked breath followed, accompanied by a wet sniffle. "Rudra... won't you... won't you talk to your Maa, bachha?"

Rudraksh stayed silent, his jaw tightening, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and throat.

Antara's arms tightened around Swastik as she glanced sharply at Rudraksh's face. The baby's babbling faltered, sensing the stillness in his mother's body.

The woman drew in a shuddering breath, and when she spoke again, her words came in bursts, each one breaking against her sobs. "I know... I know I don't deserve it. But I— I can't... I can't bear it anymore, my baby. I'm so sorry... so, so sorry. Please... please, just—just say something... Maa can't breathe without hearing your voice."

Near the coffee table, Anusuiya's brows drew together at the sight of her son's expression. The person on the other end continued speaking, but she didn't utter a word herself – she simply stood there, watching Rudraksh's shoulders stiffen.

From the phone pressed to his ear, the woman's broken words kept spilling through, wet with grief. The edges of the device dug into his palm as an unbidden flicker of memory slipped past the walls he had built long ago.

"Who will eat this aeroplane?" a woman's voice, warm and playful, teased as she held a piece of chapati aloft like it could fly.

"I! I!" Little Rudraksh bounced on his tiny feet, arms stretching toward the pretend aeroplane.

The woman's hand swooped toward him, landing the soft chapati onto his tongue.

Rudraksh chewed happily, his hips wiggling in a clumsy dance of triumph.

The woman laughed, scooping him up, pressing his small body close to her chest, and planting an affectionate kiss on his cheek. "I love you so much, my baby!"

"I love more, Maa!" Rudraksh declared, arms flung wide. "More than this!"

Their laughter tangled together, bright and whole, before the sound dissolved into the present, leaving only the raw breath of the woman still pleading in his ear.

Rudraksh's blank eyes fixed on the table. In a swift motion, he brought the phone closer to his face and swiped the red button across the screen. With a soft thud, he set the device down on the tabletop, as if it were once a friend now turned into a betrayer.

Everybody does this. First, pretend to love. Then leave. Then come back like nothing happened. I'm not some refugee centre.

The scraping sound of the chair against the floor echoed as he yanked it backward and stormed toward the door.

"Rudraksh! Rudraksh!" Antara's voice chased after him. "At least have the food!"

"I'll talk to you later, beta," Anusuiya whispered neutrally, setting the handset firmly back into its cradle. Her gaze snapped toward Antara. "Whose call was that, Antara?" Her anklets jingled in a tune out of rhythm as she stepped closer.

Antara adjusted Swastik against her shoulder, rocking him with one arm while her other hand reached for the phone lying abandoned on the table. Her thumb hovered hesitantly before she pressed the call icon on the unfamiliar number and brought it quickly to her ear.

"Hello! Rudra!" The woman's voice burst through after the first ring. "You forgi—"

"...Maya Chachi...?" Antara's voice trailed off into a whisper, confusion flickering in her eyes.

A beat of silence passed.

"Rudra?" Maya's voice wavered, the earlier eagerness fraying into hesitation.

Anusuiya's face hardened, her jaw clenching as she reached out sharply and yanked the phone from Antara's hand.

"Rudra beta—"

"Rudraksh," Anusuiya cut in, her voice flat but edged. "His name is Rudraksh. And he is my son. Mine."

Maya's breath hitched. "Don't be this harsh, Anusuiya... I-I raised him too... for seven years." A sniffle broke through her voice. "He is my son as well."

Anusuiya let out a short, derisive laugh. "Beating and humiliating a child is not called parenting, Maya bhabhi." She pressed on each word.

"Which mother does not punish her children when they make mistakes, Anusuiya? Did you never punish Antara or Vardhaman?"

"Really?" Anusuiya's brows arched, her sarcastic tone carrying a venomous note. "And where does this so-called 'parenting' of yours vanish when it's your own son at fault? Hmm?" She let the silence sit for half a breath. "You remembered all your discipline only when it came to my son. Just because he wasn't your blood, isn't that right?"

"Anusuiya! Can you please not remember that?!" Maya's voice cracked, rising in a mixture of anger and shame. "I... I accept. I accept I made mistakes. And I regret them." She pushed forward, forcing the next words past a tight lump in her throat. "But please, please return my son to me. He is my son, Anusuiya. Not yours."

"What a shameless woman you are, Bhabhi? First, you abandoned my son like some used trash bag, and now, when your own son has followed the wrong path, you suddenly remembered my Rudraksh again?" Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "Wah, what an affectionate mother you are. We should take notes from you on 'How to bring up a child properly.'"

"How much venom will you spill, Anusuiya?" Maya's voice had turned raspy from continuous crying. "Does he even call you Maa, that you're getting so possessive? He is my son. I am his Maa, not you."

Anusuiya's knuckles whitened around the phone, her eyes blazing as if they could have burned Maya alive had she been standing in front of her.

"He is my son. I have birthed him. If not today, then tomorrow, he will come back to me. But to you?" She leaned slightly forward, as though closing the distance through the phone itself. "I will never let that happen."

"Anus—"

"Don't ever call here again, or try to reach my son." Anusuiya's voice dropped into a clipped finality. "I and my family have nothing to do with you, or anyone from that house."

Antara's throat went dry at the sight of her mother. The baby's soft breath against her collarbone grounded her as she watched Anusuiya's eyes harden.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

The interior of IMAGINATION pulsed with movement, the soft hum of chatter and the creak of chairs filling the air. Clusters of staff leaned over half-finished decorations, their hands moving in tandem as they worked. The scent of fresh glue and rubber drifted through the space, mingling with the sweet aroma of cake and sweets from the coffee station.

A banner drooped above the coffee station in a reversed curve, its uneven letters proclaiming HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUDRAKSH SIR! in bold, glittery strokes. Beneath it, blue and grey balloons shifted gently, their rubbery surfaces brushing against one another with soft squeaks. Silver and gold ribbons clung to the glass partitions, curling and uncurling with each light swoosh of air from the ventilators.

Dhriti, in a full-sleeved deep maroon shirt paired with a brown midi skirt, balanced herself on the edge of a chair, her toes curled over the rim, heels hovering above the wooden frame. Her fingers stretched toward the last hook, arms taut, as she tried to tie the final ribbon in place. A few strands of hair slipped from her bun, skimming her shoulder like silk as she reached higher.

"Ms. Vashisth." Karan's voice came from behind, low and even, enough to still her hands mid-motion. "This is the last time I'm warning you."

Dhriti turned just enough to catch his face over her shoulder, the stubborn curve of her smile refusing to fade. "Sir, we've all been tense for months. One small celebration for Rudraksh sir won't hurt anyone." Her smile deepened, and a faint flush warmed her cheeks. "Above all, I want everyone to see him smile... like before."

Her gaze dropped to the streamer in her hands as she smoothed the rough paper between her fingers. "He used to... make sure everyone felt at ease. But now..." The rest slipped away with a hard swallow.

Karan shook his head, a tired breath escaping through his nose. His hands slid into the pockets of his grey pants, as though keeping out a cold sensation. "You're not reading the room, Ms. Vashisth. I'm saying this for your own good." A balloon bounced against his shoulder, its colour matching the pale purple of his shirt.

A small laugh escaped Dhriti as she stepped down from the chair, catching the puffball in both hands. "The CEO himself approved this. Said it's fitting for the man who once led us, and might, someday, lead again." Her smile softened, her eyes glinting with quiet admiration. "The backbone of the company, after all, isn't he?"

Before Karan could answer, a high, breathless voice rang out from across the room.

"Rudraksh sir is coming!" a female intern squealed, eyes wide, a grin stretching across her face.

With an unwavering smile, Dhriti glanced around the decorated hall, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling across her features. Leaning slightly toward Karan's shoulder, she murmured, "You will see, he will like it."

Karan closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, his lips flattening into a thin, restrained line.

Rudraksh walked in, his long strides eating up the distance, eyes fixed on the floor near his cabin door. For a brief moment, he lifted his gaze, and his pace slowed. His eyes narrowed at the sight of colourful balloons, ribbons, and a glittery banner bearing his name.

The room's chatter faded instantly, replaced by an expectant hush that settled over everyone.

Dhriti stepped forward. Her lips twitched into a nervous smile as her fingers toyed with the edge of her sleeve. "Sir, we just thought—"

"Ten minutes." Rudraksh's voice was low and clipped.

He brushed past Dhriti and Karan, the slight knock of his shoulder against Karan's more a statement than an accident.

The door clicked shut behind him as he disappeared into his cabin. 

Dhriti's shoulders sagged, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Maybe... he just needs a little time," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

"No."

Karan's response came quick, flat and final. His gaze lingered on the closed door before shifting to her. "Clean this mess up if you don't want to mess up your career."

Without another glance, he turned and walked toward his own cabin.

Dhriti remained rooted, still staring at the floor, her fingers finding a loose thread on her dress and twisting it until it frayed.

Within minutes, the quiet chatter returned. Someone straightened the cupcakes. Another re-taped a ribbon that had come loose. The banner stayed. The balloons stayed. Everyone moved with that cautious, guilty energy of people trying to convince themselves they weren't wrong.

But at the back of every mind was the same thought:

When Rudraksh sir comes back... And the dread of how he would come back.

The silence stretched out, only to be broken by the faint click of the door knob.

Rudraksh stepped out, his unhurried footsteps sharpening the room's attention like a rabbit pricking its ears at the hint of danger. His face was an unreadable mask of calm as he walked straight toward the banner that screamed for attention.

Without a word or a glance at anyone, he reached out with his good hand, caught the edge of the tape, and tore it down in one smooth, sharp motion. The letters flopped to the floor, the cheerful "HAPPY" landing face-down on the carpet, much like he once had, abandoned by people who hid their true colours behind glittery lies.

As he shifted slightly, a blue balloon brushed against his shoulder, and the muscles in his jaw flickered. He gripped the balloon, pressed it against the corner of a desk, and popped it – the sound exploding in the silence like a cheap Diwali cracker. One after another, he seized the balloons, crushed them, and let the torn rubber fall to the floor.

No one moved from their places, as if time bombs were planted beneath their feet and would detonate at the slightest shift. The popping of balloons and the polished scrape of shoes against the marbled floor continued to fill the oppressive stillness, suffocating everyone with their sounds.

When the last streamer fell, he let it drop and darted a sharp glance at Dhriti for half a second, his eyes boring into her soul as if daring her to ever pull such a stunt again.

"Get back to work." His stern tone earned hesitant yet obedient movements from those around him.

Two clipped steps later, he was inside his cabin, the door closing with a quiet, final click.

The office stayed silent for a long moment. Slowly, the normal sounds of work returned, and the sweet aroma of cupcakes now felt strangely out of place.

Dhriti stood frozen, head bowed, her vision blurring.

Why is he so cold? Can't he see how much I'm trying to win his heart? One girl betrayed him... doesn't —doesn't mean, everyone is the same.

She quickly wiped at the corner of her eyes with the sleeve of her right hand.

Is it because I'm older than you, Rudraksh? Is it because of that? But I'm just three years older than you. And—and how is this my fault if I was born before you?!

Wiping the remaining tears harshly from her cheeks, she stormed down the corridor, the piercing click of her heels echoing behind her.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Inside his cabin, Rudraksh's footsteps echoed off the walls as he paced between the cabin door and the bathroom door. His fists were clenched, eyebrows furrowed, teeth gritted. Only he knew how close he was to snapping, to tearing everyone's soul apart with his bare hands.

Birthday?! Bloody, my funeral!

His eyes blazed, the irises burning with an inner fire. One more "happy birthday" from anyone, and God's promise, he didn't care if he spent the rest of his life in a black cell in Andaman and Nicobar.

His gaze fell on the calendar resting peacefully on his desk. The date "February 13" stood proudly across the page in bold red letters. His chest heaved, breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. With a swift, violent motion, he snatched the calendar from the table and hurled it against the muted wall.

The pages fluttered through the air before bouncing off the wall and collapsing onto the floor like a defeated soldier.

His lips stretched taut, teeth grinding beneath them, eyes squeezed shut as if he were trying to cage the scream threatening to tear out of his chest. His good hand rose, fingers curling into his hair in a tight, desperate grip. The nerves in his hand and temples bulged, green and purple veins snaking beneath his skin like restless serpents.

Maya's voice, blurred childhood memories, Aanand and Anusuiya's negligence, Sanam's betrayal, Karan's dishonesty – each memory flashed through his mind like a fast-forward film reel of pain and regret, forcing him to relive every moment again.

His eyes snapped open, bloodshot from the effort of holding himself together.

"I can't stay here," he muttered.

With a sudden, decisive movement, he turned and walked out of the cabin. The door swung shut behind him, but it couldn't silence the painful memories that continued to reverberate through the corridors of his mind like a scream.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

"Is Bihar closed today?"

Ira's confused voice drifted with the cold afternoon breeze as her eyes swept over the eerily quiet surroundings. The pitter-patter of her sandals faltered when she stopped, head tilting slightly as she studied Navya's side profile.

Navya kept walking, her green dupatta trailing softly behind her in the wind.

"Navya!" Ira called out, her voice louder than usual. She quickened her steps, her maroon jacket flaring with each stride until she caught up.

Navya froze, though her expression remained distant. Two fingers rested against her lower lip, while the rest curled tightly around a blue ball pen.

Ira reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What happened?" she asked softly. "You've been zoning out since you came. Any problem?" Her eyes lingered on the slight twitch in Navya's face.

Navya blinked, her mouth pulling into a strained smile before she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Just... family problems," she muttered, her gaze slipping back to the road.

"Oh..." Ira nodded slowly, choosing not to push further. She walked beside her in silence, scanning the pavement until her eyes caught a pothole directly in the path of Navya's next step.

Before her friend could step into it, Ira's fingers shot out and clasped her arm, pulling her back.

Navya startled at the sudden tug, eyes widening as the danger registered.

"What is wrong with you, Navya?" Ira's brows drew together, her voice low but edged with concern.

"This is the third time I’ve saved you today. Earlier you nearly walked into a van... then into a bike... and now this." She forced a faint, hesitant smile, trying to keep her tone gentle. "If you're comfortable... you can tell me."

Navya exhaled a deep, tired breath through her lips, eyes closing briefly as she clutched the notebook tightly against her red kurti-clad chest.

"It's my brother's birthday today..."

A/N: Hello... How's it?

1. What is your opinion about Maya?

2. And, Dhriti's emooootions?

3. I, actually, have a serious question: what's a love triangle? I mean, two boys, one girl; or two girls, one boy. But, if all of them are straight, how's it a love triangle? Isn't it the letter V? I'm really confused over this.

Meet you in the next part... bye, bye!