Rajiv's POV

Relocating the company to Mumbai has been one of the best decisions I've made.

We no longer have losses. In fact, we generate more revenue daily than we did when it was in Banaras.

Tomorrow, my assistant told me we'd be meeting with a group of the most successful businessmen in India who are interested in offering us a contract.

I turned to the last page in her diary.

I've been reading it, and today I'll finish it all.

Her diary revealed a life of unimaginable pain—a pain that I had been blind to, a pain that I had unwittingly contributed to. Being with me didn't make it any less difficult for her; rather, it seemed to have made it worse. She endured so much.

When she was made to drop out of school, she initially didn't mind, but watching her siblings go to school every day made her realise her own desire to learn. She begged her father to let her return, promising to never fail again. But instead of support, he responded with brutality, beating her and telling her he wouldn't waste his money on someone with no future.

She spent most of her days with her mother, comforting her when her father vented his rage at her.

But when she cried, she cried alone, in the darkness, with no one to turn to. There was no one to hold her or tell her everything would be okay.

She wrote about the day a man followed her from the market and how she tried to flee, fearing for her safety. But when she reached home, her father's response was not protection but further abuse. He beat her with his phone's charger, leaving her with scars and forcing her into isolation for months, denying her even food.

Her father's cruelty knew no bounds.

He isolated her, denied her food, and left her to rot. And I, the one who was supposed to love her, also did nothing less.

Guilt and shame consumed me, threatening to destroy me from the inside.

No one cared when she was sick, and she was always discriminated against by her family. Even her mother, whom she loved and wanted to connect with, was never present in her times of need.

She was never asked about her likes or dislikes. Her life was a constant struggle, and it's not pity or remorse I feel, but a deep regret for not being able to support her when she needed it most.

If I ever have the chance to meet her again, I will make sure to offer her a safe and loving space to return to, if she wishes.

Her heart is pure; her heart is clean.

I know I had told her she wasn't my choice because of her dark skin, but after Divya told me I was also not her choice, I started to see things differently. It made me realise something.

In her diary, she mentioned that if she had the choice, she would rather chase her dreams than marry, but she could compromise to leave the torture in her house, hoping to find solace with me.

I don't even know what her choice is, but despite everything, she was ready to compromise and be with me.

If she was ready to adjust, I know I can too. I want to give our relationship a chance.

Truly, if I meet her again, I will tell her we could marry again, and this time, we could work on it.

I will never hit her like her father, because I know the pain it inflicts all too well.

My grandmother's countless slaps at my mother still resonate with me, and though I wasn't the one being hit, I felt the impact deeply.

That's why I've promised never to raise a hand on any woman.

•••••

It's morning, and I've just arrived at the company.

My assistant confided in me, "They're already here, waiting in the conference room."

I glanced at my watch and saw it was exactly 8 a.m.

I smiled, impressed by their punctuality. "They're very prompt," I said.

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, it was a surprise to me too."

I headed into the elevator and made my way to the conference room.

When I went in, I was surprised to see a larger crowd than I had expected.

My gaze strolled across the room, taking in the sea of men, before landing on a woman with her back to me, her long hair cascading down her back.

"Good morning!" I exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few, and I flashed a broad smile while extending my hand to each of them. "I'm Rajiv Pandey, Chairman and Owner of Global Supply Solutions."

The man whose hand I had just shaken responded, "I'm Raghav, co-founder of Megamart!"

I beamed, moving on to the next person, and we continued introducing ourselves until, finally, I reached the lady.

As my gaze met her face, my heart skipped a beat.

Could it be?

I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.

The woman before me was a complete look-alike of my ex-wife, yet she was utterly transformed.

She wasn't in a saree, and her face was uncovered.

The face, which once was covered, is now far from the darker complexion I recalled. It was glowing with an ethereal light.

I rubbed my eyes, wondering if the months had warped my memory, but when I opened them again, the vision remained.

She had changed into a stunningly beautiful woman.

Her attire, a flowing dress that reached her feet, was something I know my ex-wife would never have worn.

It was a type that was out of character for her, and yet, there is just an unmistakable familiarity about this woman.

It was like my ex-wife had been reborn, and now her beauty is untethered and unrecognisable.

"Rajiv Pandey!" I stammered, still in shock, as I extended my hand.

She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, her eyes piercing through mine, before whispering, "Anita."

Her voice was like a gentle breeze that carried a familiar canticle.

She didn't shake my hand; instead, her eyes darted away.

I knew that voice; I was certain of it. It was her, my ex-wife.

She had told me she'd chase her dreams, no matter what, and it seemed she had; she'd clearly achieved so much.

Happiness protruded within me as I took my seat, my eyes still mending on her, and a soft smile spread across my face.

"So her name is Anita," my mind whispered delightedly like it had uncovered a long-hidden secret.

Just then, my assistant entered with a tray of steaming tea, expertly placing a cup in front of each person before exiting.

"Thank you, though that wasn't necessary," one of the men said, but I only nodded, my gaze still transfixed on her.

I was captivated by her beauty, which I was realising for the first time.

In the past, I had never truly looked at her for more than thirty seconds or taken the time to appreciate her features.

But now, I couldn't help but stare.

Her skin, which was once a dark shade, had transformed into a radiant glow, as if lit from within.

Maybe she had always been beautiful, and I was just blind to it.

"We're interested in offering a contract to your company to collaborate with our interior designer to design the interior of our upcoming restaurant," the man began.

"We'd like to review some samples of your work and either select from them or provide specific information on what we're looking for. If there are any further details to discuss, you can communicate with Ms. Anita, and she'll keep us informed."

I interrupted him, my eyes glancing at her, though she refused to meet my gaze.

"I'm afraid that's not how we work," I explained, my tone professional but friendly.

"We don't provide samples without a commitment from clients, especially when working with an interior designer who isn't from our company. We need to ensure our designs are protected from duplication. Our process starts with a deposit to secure our services, followed by a site survey, calculations, and customised design concepts tailored to your restaurant's needs. Only then will we provide samples for your review."

I glanced at her, who remained focused on my company's flier notes, her expression unreadable.

My attention returned to the man.

"Alright, we'll proceed," another man said.

"Please share your account number, and we'd like to commence the project as soon as possible. Also, note that we won't be able to meet in person regularly, so Ms. Anita will be our representative going forward."

I nodded, expecting her to acknowledge me, but she didn't flinch.

"Not a problem at all," I replied.

"Ms. Anita can share her contact information with me, and regarding the deposit, our charges will be based on the size of your restaurant. However, I'll offer a discount, courtesy of Ms. Anita's positive influence." I smiled, hoping to catch her eye, but she remained expressionless, like she didn't hear my comment.

One of the men raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why the discount?"

I chuckled, "Because Ms. Anita has a positive aura, and I believe that's essential for a successful collaboration."

I glanced at her again, expecting a reaction, but she continued to ignore me with an unreadable expression.

"Thank you, but that's unnecessary," she finally whispered, her gaze still fixed on the fliers.

"This is a business agreement, so let's keep things professional," she added.

I know she hasn't forgotten our past conversations, and I wonder if she has resentment or anger towards me.

Whatever her emotions, I can't deny my own feelings.

I want her back in my life more than ever.

It sounds crazy, even to myself, but I can't overlook the feeling.

I think I have fallen in love with her.

"It is prof—" I began, but she cut me off.

"If there's nothing else to discuss, we'll be on our way," she said, her voice firm and professional.

"I'll share my contact information with you during our next meeting." With that, she stood up, her eyes never meeting mine, and walked out of the room.

The others followed, rising from their seats.

"Well, it seems that concludes our meeting," one of them said.

"We'll make sure to send in the deposit today, and you should make sure to get started on the project as soon as possible. Ideally, by tomorrow."

"No problem at all," I replied, shaking the man's hand.

"On behalf of myself and my partners, we're pleased that the meeting went smoothly. We're looking forward to a successful collaboration with your company." With that, they too exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"I have to see her again," I wondered to myself, a smile spreading across my face.

"And luckily, we're scheduled to meet tomorrow." My mind was already conjuring with eagerness, thinking about our next encounter.