My heart pounds, a mix of anger and fear. For three long years, I've suppressed my rage, burying it deep within. Now, as I face him again, the floodgates burst.
Standing under the gloomy shadow of Garuda, I relive the nightmare in seconds: the hushed sobs in the dead of night, the relentless flash of cameras outside our home, the cruel questions hurled by reporters, the sight of Bhai's effigy burning, Mom gasping for air, and Dad pacing the halls. Each memory ignites a fresh wave of anger and loathing. Everything rolls over one after the other, making my eyes glitter with hatred as I face the catalyst of my doom — smiling, victorious, alive.
"If looks could kill..." He whistles. The signature grin is as cheeky as ever. And I have to resist the urge to answer it with my fists.
Scheming Snake!
Akaay boldly steps closer, and between my anger and disgust, I struggle to reconcile the man before me with the one I abandoned three years ago.
Back then, Akaay Randhawa was a twenty-seven-year-old aspiring politician making his way to rival Bhai. Now he's the Chief Minister and everything about him reflects that rise.
The pants and sweatshirts that once clung to his bulky body are gone, replaced by crisp kurta-pajama that reeks power and control. He's still tall, still broad, and has the dark, magnetic aura that used to pull me in. But now... now he's sharper, more sophisticated, and wicked. A man who not only attracts attention but demands it.
Physically, I hardly observe any significant change. The long curls are still neatly tied into a bun, and his perfectly trimmed beard still frames his chin. But his eyes — those sharp, gray, moorish eyes — have darkened a shade. The sparkle they once radiated has faded, replaced by gloomy shadows and a weariness he does not attempt to hide.
Guess who's spending extra hours in the library?
CM Akaay Randhawa looks like a man weathered by ambition. The emperor who's conquered everything but lost more than he bargained for.
"You can stare at me all night once inside. The lights are better there." Akaay quips, running a hand over his beard.
Did I hear a nervous ring? Gotta be hallucinating, girl. Randhawa and nerves? That's like saying the hell serves ice cream.
"Besides, it's getting a bit chilly out here, and I'm sure you won't prefer the reporters catching wind of our little reunion. Wouldn't want them fanning the flames of the past, now would we?"
Cunning as ever. I see you, Randhawa. I. See. You.
I hold my silence, letting the fire burn in my clenched fists instead.
His smirk—an armor when he's unsure—widens. A bold step forward shrinks the space between us, but I don't move an inch.
"Wow! Mridula Singh Chandel keeping her lips zipped?" he jabs, feigning astonishment. "Did anyone actually check where the sun rose from today?"
I narrow my eyes, standing firm. No words, no gestures. Just my gaze screaming loud and clear what my tongue isn't.
Fuck off, Randhawa. CM, my cunt.
Catching the whiff, he shuffles on his feet and whispers. "Mridula..." The voice is enough to make me flinch. "I didn't mean... I was... Look, can we just..."
He hesitates, and for a fleeting moment, Akaay looks lost. His hand twitches, like he's contemplating reaching for me. But Kaustami doesn't give him the chance. She bristles, stepping forward like a shield in combat.
"Aye! Stay back, you swine!"
With a swift, unexpected shove, she shatters his composure—though only a single step, but enough to unruffle his security.
I notice the shift immediately: the subtle flicker in their stances. Fingers twitch around triggers. Eyes narrow and sharpen. They're waiting—for one wrong move.
One. Wrong. Move.
"Kaustami," I hiss, a stern warning.
"No, Di!" she snarls, her voice trembling with rage. "These jerks need to learn their lesson! Weren't they satisfied trying to run us over? Now they're back, circling like vultures, ready to feast on our remains!"
The tension evaporated. The grey in his eyes flickers, devoid of humor. His eyes find mine. He opens his mouth to speak, but a calm, authoritative voice cuts through the air.
"Now, that's one way to treat your elders."
Our heads whip around, drawn to the source. Kaivan Randhawa emerges from the shadows.
No longer an indifferent bystander, he looks like he just rolled out of bed—wrinkled sweatshirt, shorts hanging low on his hips, and hair so tousled it's a miracle it's even staying on his head. There's a faint pillow crease on his cheek, but it doesn't matter. Kaivan could walk into a warzone like this and still command the room.
"Elder?" Kaustami spat the contempt. "You're eight years older, not eighty. Anyway, age doesn't bring wisdom, it brings irrelevance."
Eyebrows reaching the hairline, hands in the pocket: Kaivan strolls closer. His gaze bores into Kaustami's and sparks fly; just not the romantic sort.
"Irrelevant?" His scoffs. "Coming from the girl who has built her life around hashtags, snaps, and captions? Tell me, O mighty Chandel Princess..." He pauses. Provocative mockery dances in his eyes. "Are you still chasing validation for the rotten tomatoes? What was it they called you again? Chudail Chandel, wasn't it?"
While Kaustami stiffens, my eyes widen.
Shit!
"Enough! Can we please know the purpose for which we are brought here?" I jump slightly.
"Excuse me?" Kaustami snaps, her voice tight, but I can see the flare of embarrassment she's desperately trying to bury.
The damage is done!
"Oh, don't be so modest, Chutney" Kaivan brushes off with a wave of a hand as he tilts his head as if studying her. "I'm just wondering if your Instagram temples and sunsets are your way of scrubbing that little title clean. Or is it the validation from strangers that helps you sleep better at night nowadays?"
Oh, boy! So much for a homecoming.
Kaustami trembles with barely restrained rage. "You think you're some kind of royalty—"
Kaivan's laugh cuts through her words. "No. I know I am. Which is why I don't need to flood timelines with poetic lies to make people forget—"
"Kaustami-" I hiss out a warning. Unfortunately, I'm a bit late.
"You son of a—" Kaustami's hand flies up before the words are out, quick and reckless, fueled by pure fury.
In a second, the click of weapons echoes around. In a heartbeat, ten guns are trained on us. But Kaivan doesn't even glance at his men. He moves faster than her rage. His hand snaps up to seize her wrist before her strike can land.
Once trapping her in his arms, he lowers his head to her eye level, pinning her in place as he tugs her closer with infuriating ease.
"Let her go!" I scream, struggling against the guards. "Randhawa, you bastard! What do you want now? Dancing on my grave? What's the meaning of all this?"
Akaay's jaw clenches. Remorse and irritation flashes through his features as he shoots a warning glance at his twin, "Kai. Let her go."
The bastard doesn't move his eyes from Kaustami's face. "Let her go? She attempted to kill me, Kay! Murder! Assualt! Threat to life! I'm simply defending myself."
Kaustami struggles against him, furious, but Kaivan doesn't flinch.
"Let me go," she screams, kicking legs in the air.
"Akaay exhales sharply, turning back to me. "Mridula," he pleads, "just... just give me ten minutes. That's all I ask. None of this has to happen."
I scoff, my anger boiling over. "And you couldn't find a better place or time? Tell me again how did you win and become a freaking minister?"
"I couldn't wait any longer."
"Why? What's left to discuss? Haven't you already taken enough? Humiliating me like this? You've stooped so low, Randhawa. Another trap, another lie? Are you even human? Let my sister go this minute!"
"Kai, let her go," Akaay says again, this time sharper, more commanding.
Kaivan doesn't move at first, his gaze flicking to Kaustami, who's still struggling against him. "Don't ever try to repeat it," he says lightly. Then, with measured ease, he releases her wrist and steps back. His hands slips into his pockets as though nothing happened.
"Didn't I tell you I have something to show you when I first brought you here?" Akaay's voice dips. "It's time you see it."
I scoff, ready to tell him where exactly he can shove that something. But the flicker of desperation in his eyes, and the years-old nagging curiosity hold me back.
"Please," he insists. "I think we deserve proper closure. Just ten minutes. Not a second longer. It's really important, Mridula."
"Go on," Kaivan adds, gesturing lazily toward the mansion. "We'll keep things... civil here."
"My sister isn't moving an inch without me," Kaustami snaps, stepping forward as if ready to stab the elder Randhawa under her polished and painted toes.
Kaivan's gaze flicks to her. "If that's the hill you want to die on, Chutney, be my guest. But don't expect anyone to miss you."
"You—"
"Enough!" I bark, cutting through the tension, my voice shaking as I grip Kaustami's arm. I don't meet her eyes, don't give myself the chance to waver. "Stay here. I'll be back. Just... stay."
Kaustami stares at me dumbfounded. "Di—"
"This ends here, Kausti. Now and here." My voice cuts through her rage, sharp and stubborn. I don't meet her eyes—I can't. Not now.
I take a breath, forcing my chest to steady, and turn back to Akaay. His eyes meet mine: tense, heated, and pleading.
"Ten minutes," I say, the finality in my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "And after that, you're dead to me. Don't exist. Poof. Out of my life. Out of my family's life."
He nods, the faintest flicker of relief crossing his face. Without a word, he steps back, gesturing for me to follow.
I glance at Kaustami, who's practically vibrating with anger at my betrayal. Her fists are clenched, her jaw tight, but she doesn't speak. I know she's biting back words that'll make one burn their ears.
I turn toward the mansion. My feet feel heavy. My heartbeat is loud enough to drown out everything else. With every step, the weight in my chest presses harder, as if I'm walking into the eye of a storm I might not survive.
The door looms ahead. The dim light above it casts eerie shadows. Akaay pushes it open, stepping aside to let me in.
I pause on the threshold, swallowing the knot in my throat. Once I cross this line, I know nothing will ever be the same.
Nonetheless, I step inside, letting the door close behind me. What awaits me inside is beyond my wildest dreams. My breath catches in my throat, and I'm left speechless.
"This..." I gasp, my eyes wide with disbelief.
"is Premji Randhawa's Glimpse of the Soul," Akaay explains, a satisfying smile playing on his lips.
*****
Okay! No gaali-galoch in comment section or my convo board. I know it ain't much after a day gap, but this is all we gotta settle with today. Tomorrow, I promise we'll know exactly what Dadaji left with Garuda.
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EK>