Page 72 of No Boss
Her parents ate in silence. Steel spoons touched plates, a thin sound that filled the room.
She had barely spoken since she sat down. Words would not come. Every thought circled back to him. To the office. To that moment when she had imagined his breath near her ear, and then stared at her notepad, mortified, through the rest of the call.
‘Ughhh.’
“You need to eat, beta.” Gauri reached across and touched her hand.
Meera nodded, lifted a spoonful, and set it back.
The house pressed in on her. Two rooms that had always felt enough now felt crowded. Even the walls closed in, as if they read the unrest she could not contain.
Her gaze went to the small window that opened into her quarters’ courtyard. Simple. Closed in. Nothing like the wide corridors of the Haveli where Abhinav moved through his days.
Her father had stopped eating.
When she looked up, his eyes were on her, concern set deep in his face. His plate remained half full. “Are you unwell?”
“Just tired.”
The lie sat heavy.
She wasn’t tired. She was haunted. By cedar. By fingers that had gripped her wrist and not been quick to release. By dark eyes that watched her and made her forget how to breathe. By a man who was still trying to sell her home and had somehow become the person she looked for when she walked into any room.
This was a catastrophe.
The silence stretched. A nightbird called once outside.
Devendra cleared his throat and set his spoon down. “I received a call from the matchmaker today.
Meera looked up.
“A prospect. Lakshya Sampat. Thirty. Assistant Manager at Heritage Grand Hotel. MBA.” He paused. “Good family. Father retired from government service. Mother teaches at the girls’ college. They would like to meet you. Tomorrow, if you agree.”
Air filled her lungs.
“Yes.”
It came out too fast.
Her father blinked. Her mother’s hand stilled. Neither had expected that answer.
“You don’t want to know more?” Gauri watched her.
“You said he is from a good family.” Meera kept her voice even. “That is enough to meet him.”
Her parents exchanged a look.
“Of course,” Devendra began, slow. “But there is no rush, beta. You can take…”
“Tomorrow is fine.” Meera pushed her plate away. “The aarti begins at seven. They can come before.”
She heard the eagerness in her own voice. She couldn’t bring herself to sound casual because this wasn’t casual. It felt like a rope thrown to someone already sinking.
A man with no complications. No power over her home or her family. No gaze that unraveled her composure in seconds. A man who would be easy to understand. Predictable. Safe.
A man who was not Abhinav.
“I will tell them to come at six.” Devendra watched her carefully.
