21. Sparks, Sarcasm, and Shadow from the Past

The restaurant was elegant, a quiet hum of conversation filling the space as Charu sat at a corner table, tapping her fingers against the tablecloth.

She checked her watch for what felt like the hundredth time and exhaled sharply.

Abhir Sharma was late.

Again.

She had been sitting with Mishra ji, their client, for the last twenty minutes, trying to keep the conversation going while internally cursing Abhir for making her suffer through this alone.

"Ms.Bansal, —uh, Abhir—woh aa rahe hain na?" Mishra ji asked, adjusting his spectacles.

Charu forced a pleasant smile. "Jee, Mishra ji, aa rahe honge. Bas… traffic mein phase honge."

As if on cue, a loud thud echoed through the restaurant entrance.

Heads turned.

And in walked Abhir Sharma.

Charu’s eyes widened in horror.

He looked—ridiculous.

Dressed in a half-buttoned green shirt, red shorts , and an unintentionally mismatched yellow sneakers, he strolled in as if he owned the place.

His hair was slightly messy, like he had just woken up, and his usual devil-may-care smirk was firmly in place.

Her eye twitched.

He looked like he had dressed in the dark while taking fashion advice from two completely opposite personalities.

Then she turned to Abhir, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

“Yeh kya pehna hai tumne?”

"Kapde” he deadpanned.

Abhir, completely unfazed, plopped into the chair next to her, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. and flashed Mishra ji his most charming grin.

Charu,  leaned in, voice low but furious. "Aise kyun aaye  kisi rangoli competition se bhaag ke aaye ho?"

Abhir smirked. "Jealous lag rahi ho."

"Jealous? Of this?" She gestured at his ensemble like it personally offended her. "Tumhare kapde dekh ke, auto wale bhi tumhe ride dene se mana kar dete honge!"

Abhir shrugged, leaning back in his chair lazily. "Main fashion icon hoon, Charu. Tum jaise black  and white log  nahi samaj sakte."

“Main sirf itna keh rahi hoon ki this is a professional meeting,” she hissed. “Itni late aaye ho Kam se kam proper attire toh pehente.”

Abhir smirked, leaning closer. “Professional? Charu ji, main ek singer hoon, Aapki Adalat ka judge nahi.”

She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. This man would be the death of her.

Why does every time she tries to talk to him patiently ends up in a childish argument !!

Mishra Ji cleared his throat. “Ahem… toh settlement ki terms?”

Charu quickly switched back to work mode, pulling out the necessary documents and explaining the final clauses.

Mishra Ji listened carefully, occasionally glancing at Abhir, who was casually playing with a sugar packet like he was bored out of his mind.

When Charu finished, Mishra Ji nodded. “Theek hai, mujhe yeh terms acceptable lag rahi hain.”

Abhir sat up, raising an eyebrow. “Bas? Itna asaan tha?”

Charu shot him a warning look. “Haan, because I spent days working on these clauses. Tumhara bas shakal dikhana tha.”

Abhir placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Ouch! Charu. Tum toh aise keh rahi ho jaise meri shakal dikhana bhi koi chhoti cheez ho.”

Mishra Ji chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to Mishra Ji. “Aap documents sign kar dijiye.”

With a final amused shake of his head, Mishra Ji signed the settlement papers.

Finally, as the discussion wrapped up, Mishra ji stood, shaking both their hands. "Aap dono ka coordination kaafi interesting hai.Ekdum perfect teamwork."

Beside her, Abhir muttered under his breath, "Tumhari shakal dekh ke teamwork ka mann nahi karta."

She kicked him under the table and he winced audibly.

"Ouch!" Abhir cursed under his breath. "Tum sach mein jungli billi ho, Bansal."

She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

As Mishra ji took a leave and walked away, Charu rounded on Abhir “Client ke saamne aise kon behave karta hai tum sach mein impossible ho”

He grinned. “Aur tum predictable. Ab no more lectures, coffee order karein?”

She gave him a flat look. “Tumse milne ke baad mujhe coffee ke nahi sar dard ki goli ki zaroorat hai.”

Abhir laughed, stretching his arms behind his head. “Tumne mujhse ladne mey maza aata haina?”

Charu rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Haan bilkul, subah uthti hoon bas iss umeed mein ki aaj Abhir Sharma se jhagda karne ka moka milega!"

Abhir leaned forward, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Of course! Tum ladne ke bahane mere saath waqt bitana chahti ho. Issi liye toh abhi bhi mere saath baithi ho."

Charu exhaled sharply, grabbing her purse. “Enough now! Wish to never cross paths with you again Mr.Rangeela.”

Abhir, who had just taken a sip of water, choked on laughter. "Rangeela? Seriously?"

She stood up to leave, but before she could take a step, he caught her wrist and mumbled " I wish.."

Her breath hitched.

"You wish..." she repeated softly, her gaze flickering to his hand holding hers.

Abhir smirked, stepping closer.

"I wish…" His voice dropped, gaze locked onto hers, and for a fleeting second, she felt breathless.

Then, with perfect comedic timing, he smirked wider and said—

"I wish you don’t walk away before paying your bill."

Silence.

Then Charu’s mouth fell open, her earlier anticipation crashing down into sheer disbelief. "Kya?!"

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his expression—something unreadable, something almost... hesitant.

But then, he winked, releasing her wrist as if nothing had happened.

Abhir shrugged innocently. "Tum toh feminist type lagti ho, Bansal. Agar tumhe yeh theek lagta hai ki main tumhara bill settle karoon, toh chali jao. Main de dunga."

A slow, burning embarrassment crept up her face.

She snatched the bill from the table, pulled out the money, and slammed it down with a forced smile. "No thanks! Main apna bill khud pay kar utta sakti hoon!"

Abhir leaned over the table with a boyish grin and whispered"  Koi aur ladki hoti toh chahti ki main uske liye kursi kheechon, bill pay karoon... but tum alag ho. While other girls swoon over me, you look down on me.

Tum hamesha khudko mujhse better samajhti ho and yeh kuch alag hi feeling. I like it."

She groaned, not knowing how to respond—or maybe just unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "I still hate you," she gritted out and turned to leave.

He leaned back, smirking. "And I wish we meet again soon, Bansal. Apni hate intact rakhna tab tak."

She was ready with a sharp retort, but the words died in her throat as she noticed.

Abhir’s smirk wiped off.

His face turned blank, his usual mischief replaced by something dark and cold.

Abhir was still staring beyond her.

His expression was no longer cocky, no longer amused.

It was sharp.

Stiff.

Cold.

Charu followed his gaze.

And her eyes widened seeing Manish Goenka and Swarna walk in.

And suddenly, Abhir looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

And for some inexplicable reason, Charu felt the overwhelming need to assure him she was right here for him.

-----------------------------------

At the entrance, Manish Goenka and Swarna stood, engaged in polite conversation with someone at the reception.

Charu didn’t know much about them, but what she did know was enough to make sense of the change in Abhir.

They were his family—or rather, the family that once meant everything to him yet failed him due to which the entire life had turned upside down.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, hesitating for just a second before she reached forward and clasped his wrist gently.

“Abhir,” she called softly.

He didn’t move. His knuckles had turned white from how tightly he was gripping the edge of the table.

His breathing was shallow, his jaw clenched. The usual carefree Abhir was nowhere to be seen.

Charu tightened her hold and gave a small tug, finally breaking his trance.

His gaze snapped to hers, but the moment their eyes met, she saw it—the raw, unfiltered pain hidden beneath layers of indifference.

She didn’t ask him what was wrong. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she pulled him down into his seat and quietly pushed a glass of water toward him.

Abhir blinked, as if coming back to the present, then exhaled sharply. He looked at the glass, then at her, his eyes searching hers for something.

Charu didn’t say a word. She simply sat beside him, her presence solid and unwavering.

He swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face before finally picking up the glass.

His fingers trembled slightly as he took a sip.

Meanwhile, his  seething gaze was struck at Goenkas, who were lost in their own world, completely unaware of the storm they had stirred inside him.

And Charu?

She wasn’t sure why, but a strange heaviness settled in her chest.

Maybe because, for the first time, she was seeing a side of Abhir no one else ever got to see.

The side that wasn’t laughing or teasing or being impossible.

The side that hurt.

So she did the only thing she could.

She stayed.