Chapter Eighty Seven.

Chapter Eighty Seven.
The heavy front doors of the mansion creaked open.

Varun walked in, pulling the attention of his parents, who were seated across the grand living room in quiet conversation.

His mother looked up first, her brows drawing together in confusion the moment her eyes met his.

She frowned.

Something was wrong.

Vihaan, who had been lounging on the armrest of the sofa with a glass of iced coffee in hand, caught a glimpse of his younger brother, and immediately stood.

No words.

Just a silent exchange of looks as Varun made his way up the stairs.

Vihaan expression was unreadable, but deep inside, concern gripped his chest.

His mother turned slowly to her husband, her voice low, unsettled.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Her husband didn't respond.

Vihaan's voiced, “Don’t stress yourself, Ma… You already know, little things pisses him off.”

He said it with a tight smile. But even he didn’t believe the calm tone he tried to keep.

Minutes later, footsteps returned.

Varun was coming down the stairs, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Get the jet ready. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” he said. Then he ended the call without another word.

His mother rose from the sofa, alarm crawling up her spine. She walked towards the stairs just as Varun reached the last step.

“Jet?” she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Varun? Where are you going?”

“Bangalore.” he said plainly.

She blinked. “B… Bangalore? Why?” Her voice cracked. “To do what?”

“I bought a company there.” he replied flatly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket. “I need to manage it.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay… But how long will you be gone?”

Varun looked her in the eyes this time. “More than a year.”

The breath left her lungs.

“W-What?” she stammered. “More than a year? That’s...that’s too long, Varun.”

He didn’t blink.

“Varun…” Vihaan called from behind, stepping down a few stairs. “It’s too soon to leave.”

Varun’s jaw clenched, his voice turning colder.

“And it’ll be too late if I don’t.”

He turned to his mother then, seeing the sadness already swimming in her eyes. He softened, just a fraction.

“You can always come visit, Ma. I’ll be in my penthouse.”

She reached for his hand, but he had already turned away.

“Varun…” she called, a plea slipping past her lips.

But the door had already closed behind him.

Silence fell.

His father stood slowly, silently, as if none of this surprised him, and walked away without a word.

Vihaan moved closer to their mother and placed a hand gently on her shoulder, his gaze still on the front door.

He knew what this really was.

Varun wasn’t going to Bangalore for business.

♤♤♤

Veda giggled softly, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she sat cross-legged on the couch, her phone propped up against a cushion for the video call with her family.

On the screen, her father sat beside Meera, while her mother hovered in the background, occasionally chiming in with her usual motherly observations.

“Are you sure you like the place?” her father asked, his brows slightly pulled together with concern.

Veda let out an exaggerated sigh and tilted her head. “Papa, I’ve told you countless times already, yes! I love this place. It’s cozy… just the way I like it.”

Her father chuckled nervously, clearly still unsure despite her reassurances.

“If you say so, princess..” he said with a soft smile, then Meera leaned in slightly toward the camera.

“When will the training commence?” Meera asked, her tone curious and supportive.

Veda reached for the remote and lowered the volume of the background music before replying, “Tomorrow. I’m going to the company to meet with the HR and training supervisor. I’m kinda nervous but excited too.”

Meera nodded. “You’ll do fine.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Veda turned her head, then looked back at the screen. “Oh! I think my food’s here.” she said with a grin, already rising to her feet.

Her mother’s disapproving face appeared in full focus on the screen. “You ordered food again?”

“Ma..” Veda groaned dramatically, grabbing her cardigan as she walked toward the door. “I was just too lazy to cook today, hehe.”

Her mother shook her head, her mouth twitching in that half-annoyed, half-loving way she always did. “You’re becoming lazy. One day, your stomach will teach you a lesson.”

Veda laughed. “Okay okay, noted, Ma. I’ll cook tomorrow, I promise. Let me go eat now. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Take care, princess.” her father said as Meera waved, and the screen went dark once she ended the call.

Veda unlocked the door and opened it. Standing in the hallway was the same food delivery guy who had been bringing her meals for the past few weeks.

He was tall, with thick hair that curled a bit at the ends, and always looked like he was fighting off a panic attack whenever she opened the door.

“H-hi.” he stammered, his voice shaky as his eyes darted awkwardly toward her then quickly looked away.

Veda raised a brow. He always did this, fidgeting like she had a gun pointed at him. She found it strange but never gave it much thought.

“Thanks.” she said simply, reaching for the brown paper bag he held out.

He handed it over, but instead of turning to leave like usual, he lingered.

“H-hey…” he said suddenly, stopping her from closing the door.

Veda blinked. “Yes?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks visibly reddening. “Y-you can call me Ayaan. M-my friends… they call me A-Y… for short.”

There was a beat of silence. Veda stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“Um… okay?” she said slowly, puzzled. “Not that I need to know… but I’ll keep that in mind. Bye now.”

And with that, she closed the door gently.

Outside, Ayaan stood frozen, staring at the shut door. His heart pounded erratically against his ribs as he swallowed hard, then turned and walked away with stiff legs.

Veda frowned slightly as she walked back toward the kitchen, thinking about the strange interaction. He was always nervous, but today felt… different.

Weird.

Shrugging it off, she set the food on the counter and began unpacking it, arranging the contents neatly on a plate.

Her stomach rumbled in anticipation as she opened the lids and the aroma of warm biryani and spicy chicken filled the air.

Then came the low rumble of thunder.

She stiffened slightly and turned toward the kitchen window.

The bright sky she had admired earlier was now swallowed by a blanket of grey clouds.

“That’s weird.” she murmured, wiping her hands on a napkin.

The weather had changed so suddenly. A few minutes ago, it was sunny. Now, the storm was rolling in, heavy and thick.

But she shook her head and sat down with her plate.

“Rain or no rain… I’m still eating this food.” she muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork and taking a big bite.

She had no idea that the storm outside, isn't as heavy as the storm about to devour her soon.

And the storm wasn’t just in the sky.