CH: 11

“Where did you get your shoes?” Siddharth said, putting a black coffee down for Aryan in front of the table and plopped down himself next to him on the single couch.

In the big and spacious office of Aryan, looking through the financial performance, after the board meeting of their new project, Aryan was on the couch, along with Sidharth. He’d been an Aryan’s college mate, and rival, and sometimes, they had business collaborations.

“Why?” Aryan bothered to ask when he shouldn’t have, as Siddharth Kapoor had magnificent knowledge of shoes, as mainly his family had a men’s leather shoe business. And watching the reels of shoes is one of his hobbies.

“I saw exactly the same shoes on the Insta reel. You know why It stuck in my mind?” Siddharth didn’t wait for Aryan to say anything and continued in his animated voice, “Because of the weaving on the shoes, I never saw that kind before, other than those beautiful hands of the maker. And I like your shoes. And I love to have one pair for myself as well.”

Aryan took the coffee and gave a look to Siddharth. “Shouldn’t you rather focus on the work instead of buying more shoes?”

Siddharth snorted. “And shouldn’t you rather take a break instead of working during lunch break?”

Not really in the mood to talk about this, he told Siddharth, “They are from Chamatkar.”

Aryan had seen the name on the inside before he put his feet into the shoes. He wouldn’t have put these shoes on if Shivam hadn’t insisted, because the boy’s mother gave them to him.

Siddharth was slightly surprised. “What a coincidence that account has the same name—May I see them, but I won’t be surprised if they turn out to be those same shoes.”

His friend's demand to take off his shoes didn't shock Aryan a bit. And he pulled one foot from one shoe.

Holding the shoe in his hands, Siddharth examined it from every angle with a serious mix of eager expressions.

“Fuck, A, they are the same shoes. Even the name of the brand was written on the red colour nylon thread. Also, that means whoever has made them is new to business.”

“May I get my shoe back now,” Aryan spoke.

Siddharth tossed him the shoe on the exact spot on his foot. He put the foot of his into the shoe back while he listened to his friend,

“Do you even know that these are completely made by hands? No machine is used for them. I can tell by observing them, though I have seen them in the reel how they were made with those beautiful hands. And this is one hell of a fine product. They seem like perfection,” he explained about the shoes in which Aryan barely had any interest.

But Aryan didn’t remember when was the last time Siddharth talked about shoes like this enthusiastic. For Aryan they were any other shoes and there is no doubt they were made with perfection. But still, it was the first gift he had received from his omega wife.

“Now will you hurry up and tell me where you got these?” Siddharth was impatient in anticipation.

“I don’t know. I got them from someone,” Aryan said, glancing at him.

Siddharth furrowed. “And who is that someone?”

“Hold your horse, Sid. I will ask.” Aryan sighed.

“Okay.” Siddharth beamed and then said, “But you know, for once, I thought the person who made them gave them to you.”

“Assure you that he is not that person,” Aryan said.

Even the thought of his omega wife making shoes that required persistent hard work to grasp over a mastery seemed whimsical and laughable. Although it made him curious that the omega would buy for him something that held no fancy brand value when he was in the habit of only going to a place where he could buy luxurious branded things. Despite all of this, Aryan couldn’t shrug off the fact that the omega wasn’t the same.

Then where did he get the shoes, about which Sidhartha couldn’t stop talking?

“I think it’s an omega guy or either a woman, as the maker has delicate and beautiful hands,” said Siddharth, and was quite convinced with his speculation as his lips curled up into a strange smile.

It seemed that Siddharth’s interest was rather in the shoemaker of that video. Aryan felt sympathy for that person, not because his friend was a bad guy, but because he had the heart of player.

—

“There is nothing serious. You will be alright in a few days,” Dr Suraj said after he assessed Chandra’s sprained ankle and wrapped it with an elastic Crepe bandage around, so his ankle didn’t get the swelling.

Dr Suraj is an old man who is Singh’s family doctor, literally, as the Singh family had a medical facility on the 10th floor.

“If you like, I can give you a painkiller as well.”

“No. I don’t need painkillers. It’s bearable now,” Chandra said, standing on his feet. He felt a tiny pain in his ankle otherwise, it didn’t throb like before when he had sprained his ankle, and the pain shot him as if he was going to lose his foot.

“Chandra, please, stay for a moment. I need to do a full body checkup of yours.”

Chandra’s eyebrows drew together.

“You said that there is nothing serious about my ankle, right?”

Dr. Suraj smiled and deepened his wrinkles. “Right,” he said, “there is nothing serious about your ankle. And I see you seem perfectly healthy, but despite this, I need to do a full body check-up to assure Mr. Singh.”

“Mr. Singh?” Chandra cocked his eyebrow in confusion whether he was talking about Aryan or the man’s father.

“Your husband.”

And then it stuck in Chandra’s mind, maybe Aryan assumed that he’d had some fatal illness, because of his nose bleeding this morning.

After two hours of exhausting full body check, Dr Suraj said before Chandra could leave,

“You have to come twice a day to get the massage with ointment.”

“You can give me the ointment. I will do it myself.” Chandra would rather do it himself when It hurts like hell. And Dr Suraj gave him the ointment, telling him to do it as he had done for him.

Not trying to limp with one leg, Chandra walked out of the infirmary with sneakers in his hand. His mother-in-law had told him to come to the ballroom whenever he was back with Shivam.

There was a tall, handsome man in the elevator and Chandra knew him. He’s Amolaka’s fiancé Veer, about whom Chandra was crazy about in the past.

Veer was surprised to see him. And Chandra could bet it wouldn’t have been a pleasant surprise for him. The man’s impassive gaze dropped to the sneakers in one hand and then to his feet.

“Are you coming or not?” Veer asked in his quibble voice coiling in a frank hostility toward him.

There was no need for Chandra to remind himself why the hell this man was talking to him this way.

Chandra entered. And It appeared they both were heading to the ballroom.

When they strode out of the elevator, Veer didn’t feel any courtesy to slow his pace for Chandra and went ahead toward the ballroom.

Placing his shoes outside the ballroom, he stepped inside through a huge double door, all eyes turned to him. And seeing that it’s an unnecessary person, all went about their business, drinking tea and dancing rehearsal.

Damini got up from the couch and her steps moved toward Chandra. “What happened to your foot?” Damini said with concern and somewhat didn’t seem okay with his injury.

“Just sprained my ankle as I was getting into the car,” Chandra shrugged.

If he told anyone the truth, it wouldn’t reflect well on his behaviour. First day, he spent time with Shivam and he couldn’t even take care of the boy and nearly got him hit by a car. He had told Rohini and Shivam not to tell anyone the truth. He didn’t tell the child to lie but just told him not to tell the truth.

“Doctor Sahib said there is nothing serious. I will be alright in a few days,” Chandra added.

Chandra saw the four ladies who had seen yesterday. One by one Chandra bent to touch their feet and greeted them with namaste. He had learned this morning from Damini that they were the younger sisters of Aryan’s father.

Chandra sat down next to Damini and one of Aryan’s father’s sisters served him tea and he thanked her. He took a sip of his tea with a lemon colour. It was lukewarm, bitter, and yucky. He wanted to spit it out. The only tea he likes is with milk and ginger.

His eyes glanced. The women had their eyes on the dancing rehearsal of Yuven along with cousins and friends. They were skillful with their moves, as they followed their choreographer.

Chandra turned his head slightly and sneaking, he spit the tea out of his mouth into the cup. As he looked across the ballroom, Veer was looking at him.

“So, how was your day with Shivam?” Danimi said.

“It was fun,” Chandra responded, ignoring Veer who was now focusing on dancing with Amolaka.

“I was thinking that you could also join them in a group dance.” Damini sighed.

Chandra picked a cookie from a plate on the table. “I don’t know anything about dance except Bhangra.”

Because Bhangra doesn’t demand you to learn it and anyone could do it. And Chandra did it at brother’s wedding in his previous life.

Damini’s lips broke into a small laugh.

He took a bite of the cookie while Damini sipped her tea. She asked him, “Your mother called.”

“What did she say?”

“Told me you haven’t done any wedding shopping.”

“I was busy making shoes, all other things, I forgot about it,” Chandra said hesitantly, placing his cup on the table.

Though his mother-in-law already knew about it. And ever since she had followed Chandra on Instagram, his followers had gone from nine to twenty-one in just four and six hours. However, he only had one video, which was of him making shoes for Aryan.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, I’ve called the designer today.” Damini smiled.

“So, how did everything go with your store?” She asked genuinely.

“The location and the store building, everything is perfect—I love it,” Chandra chimed with a gleam in his eyes.

_

Author- Ha, finally another chapter. I'm super tired after writing it, so I will go to sleep.

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