Page 6 of Knot So Romantic

“I don’t know that I’ll meet him. It’s wonderful to hear that his sister is getting married, though,” I say, dodging Khushi’s question, my voice coming out shriller than normal.

I thought I’d gotten over the way I felt that night. The deep, husky baritone of Neel’s voice, the way he looked at me as he held me in his arms... A tingly feeling runs down my spine at the memory. I shake my head, trying to dispel the scene replaying in my mind.

Khushi’s keen eyes catch my distraction. “You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but the knowing smiles on both my friends’ faces stop me. Who am I kidding? Three months later, I’m still not over that night on the beach.

As I sip my cooling tea, I wonder: what will happen when I see Neel again? Because now, it feels less like an “if” and more like a “when.” And despite my attempts to deny it, I can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect.

CHAPTER 2

Neel

The crisp morning air invigorates me as I enjoy my early run. Forced to deviate from my usual route because of construction, I turn at Big Cup Café on the corner into a quiet, tree-lined street I’ve never explored before. The road winds around a lively park, and I’m drawn in by the scent of flowers.

A few older folks are practicing laughter therapy in one corner while some people are sitting around watching their kids play on the swings. Most of the park ground is strewn with dry leaves that haven’t been swept, a few broken benches stand on the far side, and some fences covering the perimeter have rotted and broken down in several places.

Despite its state of neglect, the park is bustling with joggers, walkers, and children, even at this early hour.

As I finish my run and exit the park, a beautiful two-story structure catches my eye. Lush climbers adorn its low walls. Two dark lamp posts flank the gate, and a white-framed door bears a sign that reads “KaaVaa.” Interesting. I haven’t heard a name like that before.

Back at the Big Cup Café, I stop to catch my breath, hands on my knees. The woman at the counter smiles and waves through the glass door, piquing my curiosity.

The door jingles as I enter. “Hi!” she greets me warmly. “We have fresh wheatgrass juice today. Would you like some?”

I nod, settling into a blue and yellow chair. As I wait for my order, I pick up a nearby newspaper. An article about another redevelopment project catches my eye.

The woman smiles as she sets down my drink. “This is what’s happening to every green space in Bangalore,” she remarks, guessing from my frown that I’ve been engrossed in the article. “The real estate tycoons are at it again, devouring our city’s precious green spaces. There’s so little we can do to stop it. What can we do?”

I nod, feeling a pang of guilt. It’s a tragedy to see these lush spaces consumed by towering structures of concrete and steel. I recall an incident when my company fought against one of these greedy developers, and we emerged victorious. Today, we’ve redeveloped that space using sustainable practices. If only we could do more.

My phone’s sharp ring interrupts my thoughts. It’s work, and I hurry home to prepare for the day ahead.

I arrive at work by nine-thirty. As I exit the elevator, Hosin, the security guard outside the Prime Real Estate office, smiles and salutes me. I hand him the extra sandwich I picked up for breakfast on my way over. Hosin has been with our company since my dad started this office.

He shakes his head, refusing the breakfast, but I insist. I’ve known him since I was a young boy, and I know he lives alone and appreciates the gesture. I’ve persisted long enough that he knows I won’t give up. His gray eyes mist as he smiles at me and accepts it gracefully. “Thank you, sir.”

I push through the glass doors, taking in the framed accolades on the walls as I exchange quick greetings with employees on my way to my office at the far end.

The hum of activity along the bright hallway is just as it was when I first took over after my father passed. It’s a constant reminder of why I do this, why I push myself every day.

Inside my corner office, I settle into my leather chair behind the mahogany desk. Documents and reports for today’s board meeting clutter the polished surface. I pick up the agenda, scanning through the listed items. With a deep breath, I dive into the financial reports.

As the clock ticks closer to noon, I head to the boardroom, where the other board members have already gathered. The room buzzes with energy and anticipation.

“Morning, everyone,” I greet the board members as I take my seat at the head of the table. Saroj, our CFO, sits to my left, her laptop open and ready. Neeraj, head of development, flips through architectural blueprints on my right.

We dive into our eco-friendly residential project, and then the discussion turns to the proposed acquisition of Sterling Properties. I present the market analysis and financial projections, then turn to the group. “What are your thoughts on this?”

Some express skepticism, while others see potential. The recent decline in real estate stocks adds tension to the debate. As the discussion heats up, my phone rings. My sister Elena’s name flashes on the screen.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” I step out to take the call, leaving the board to continue their debate.

This call could be urgent. Elena rarely calls me at work, so I know it must be important. My family comes first, always has, and always will. I loosen my tie and pace back to my office, concern growing as I answer the call. “What’s up, Elena?”

“Guess what! You’re coming with me for my dress selection tomorrow.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and laugh. “What?” After the intensity of that meeting, it feels good to shift my focus to something lighter. Moments like these remind me of the importance of having my family close.