Page 57 of Cherish my Heart

“Right. Work. That’s kind of what you signed up for.”

I throw my arms up. “It wasn’t in his calendar! Not in his schedule, not mentioned in a single meeting note or whisper or carrier pigeon! Just randomly this morning—bam—'We’re going to Jaipur tomorrow.' Like it’s no big deal.”

Kajal squints. “Okay… is it a big deal though?”

I stare at her. Sometimes I wonder if I love her more or want to strangle her more.

“It’s Jaipur.”

“Yeah? And?”

“My family lives in Jaipur.”

“Oh, is that so?” She narrows her eyes. “I already know that, Aditi,” she states as a matter of fact. “Still not seeing the catastrophe here.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I hiss. “Pretend I’m in Mumbai while I’m literally twenty minutes away from home? Not visit them? Lie to them about my location?”

Kajal shrugs. “Yes?”

I gape at her. “I can’t do that! I haven’t seen them in months. Maa would cry actual tears of blood if she found out I was in the same city and didn’t show up for even half a meal.” I almost sob as I remember my promise to Rudrani and how she reminds me of the betrayal every time we talk.

“Well… you could.”

I glare. “Are you hearing yourself?”

“Barely. You’ve been yelling for five minutes.” She shifts on her beanbag and pops another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “But listen, logically speaking—if you’re not using your last name at work, and if no one there knows you're Aditi Malhotra, then you showing up in Jaipur isn’t that big a deal unless you decide to take him on a tour of your family mansion.”

I groan again. “I don’t know how to do this. Hide out in the hotel while we’re literally in the same city as my family? What if Mumma finds out? What if Rudra Bhai finds out?”

Kajal shrugs. “Then tell them the truth. That you’re working. That you’re there for business and can’t get away. That’s… believable, right?”

“I—” I pause. Because it is believable. But it feels awful.

Because I want to see them. I miss the soft morning scoldings from Maa, the clink of chai cups at breakfast, Bade Papa’s subtle smiles when I talk about work, and Badi Maa trying to feed me until I burst. My heart aches for it. The kind of ache that sits heavy in the chest and refuses to let up.

But then there’s the other part of me. The one that signed that pact. That swore she would do this right. That wouldn’t use her surname to get easy respect. That would earn it.

I built this wall around my identities for a reason. Because I needed to know who I was when the name Malhotra wasn’t standing in front of me like a shield.

And now—going back home with him, my boss, my emotionally complicated mess of a crush-slash-heartache—it feels like a bomb ticking under the surface.

I feel like I’m going to shatter something. Either the respect I’ve built at work or the trust my family has in me.

Kajal sees it before I say it.

“Aditi…” she says gently. “You’re overthinking.”

“No, I’m not,” I mumble, curling up tighter. “I’m trying to balance two versions of myself, and it’s exhausting. If I go to Jaipur and don’t tell my family, I’m going to feel like a liar. But if I do tell them and something leaks to the office or to him—God. What if he finds out who I am from someone else?”

She sighs. “Then maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re hiding so hard from people who clearly care.”

I let the silence stretch for a few seconds. Her words hit hard.

I glance out the window. Mumbai’s skyline is scattered with lights and smog, but I still feel the pull of home. I still hear Mumma’s voice in my head, telling me to take care, to wear socks if I feel cold at night, and to not skip meals.

I’ve handled worse. I’ve handled heartbreak. Betrayal. The weight of being someone’s daughter and someone’s sister and yet constantly having to prove I’m someone of my own.

This? I can handle this.