It had been ten whole days since Kaushiki last saw him.

Ten days of no heavy footsteps in the penthouse corridor, no half-sleepy good-morning from him and no scent of his cologne lingering on her pillow. Only silence. Heavy and suffocating silence.

And then finally, that morning, her phone rang.

His name flashed on the screen.

“This evening. I’m coming. We’re having dinner together.”

Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She agreed before she could even breathe properly. The moment the call ended, she sat frozen on the couch, as if the air around her had suddenly changed, as if sunlight had quietly returned to her after days of rain.

She remembered the exact words she once said to him:

That once she gets pregnant, not to meet her again. She can’t continue this.

What a joke.

Just ten days without him… felt worse than any punishment she had ever known.

Ten days were enough to break her resolve completely.

Sonali walked in with folded laundry when she heard Kaushiki whispering under her breath,

“He’s coming today…”

Sonali looked up, surprised. “Young master? Today?”

Kaushiki nodded, and something inside her cracked open. Everything she had been holding in for ten days spilled out like water from an overfilled glass.

“I told him not to meet me after the pregnancy… and look at me now,” she said, laughing bitterly. “I couldn’t even last ten days, Sonali. Ten. I thought I was strong. I thought I had some morals left.”

Sonali put the clothes aside and sat beside her. “You were lonely, that’s all.”

“No,” Kaushiki shook her head. Her voice trembled. “It’s not loneliness. It’s him. He— he’s like some stupid addiction. Some… poison I can’t get away from. I don’t want this affair to stop anymore. I don’t want to go back to my old life. I don’t want anything else.”

Her hands were shaking; she clenched them tightly.

“I’ve accepted it, Sonali,” she whispered. “I’ve accepted the life of a mistress.”

The word mistress tasted bitter, but she said it anyway.

“Even after I give birth… if he wants… I’ll stay here. In this penthouse. I’ll wait for him.” She gave a small, helpless laugh. “I’ll wear his stupid white office shirt and sit here like some hopeless woman who has nothing else in her life except him.”

Sonali’s eyes softened with pity. “Ma'am—”

“It’s too late now,” she said, wiping a tear that escaped.

“Ethics? Morals? Those things left long ago. There is nothing clean or noble about my life anymore. Nothing.”

She leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling as if trying to hold herself together.

“All there is… is him. And this pathetic love I have for him.”

Her voice was barely audible now.

“Pathetic. But I can’t let it go.”

She pressed her palms to her eyes, breathing unevenly.

“At least…” she whispered after a long pause, “at least Inaayat is cheating on him too. Isn’t it? It’s not like she’s some pure and devoted wife waiting for her husband.”

She scoffed softly.

“She’s doing whatever she wants. And I’m already ruined. So what difference does it make if I love him? If I wait for him? If I… stay in his life like this?”

Sonali remained quiet, gently rubbing her arm.

Kaushiki took a slow breath, steadying herself.

“He’s coming today,” she said again, softly this time.

And despite the shame, the ache and the conflict her lips curved into the smallest, saddest smile.

As if just the thought of him was enough to make her world glow again.



Sonali had never seen kaushiki this happy before.

Not once in all these months.

Kaushiki moved around the penthouse with excitement, the kind that glowed from her cheeks and softened her eyes. She had changed twice already before settling on the red flowy dress, the one that swirled around her ankles when she walked, the one that made her look like she had stepped out of a painting.

Her hair was open, falling in soft waves down her back.

Her lips were a matte and deep red, the shade matched the roses she was arranging.

She stood by the marble counter, carefully placing a rose into the crystal vase. The overhead chandelier lights made her skin glow, her dress flutter in the faint fan breeze.

Kaushiki said while staring at the vase

“There should be no vases without flowers…”

She tucked another rose in and exhaled softly.

“Flowers lift the mood,” she added, straightening the petals. “After such a hard… hard day he needs it.”

Her voice cracked at the word hard.

And Sonali knew exactly why.

Kaushiki wasn’t imagining him tired from work.

She was imagining him tired from spending the day with his wife.

Imagining him resting in Inaayat’s lap… laughing with her… sharing a meal with her…

But lately, Kaushiki had forced herself to rewrite that image.

To convince herself, sometimes desperately that he truly was drowning in work.

That he wasn’t choosing someone else over her.

Sonali didn’t say anything about that.

She just nodded gently.

“Yes, madam. Flowers will make the place feel warm.”

“Make sure all the vases have fresh ones.”

“I will.”

The penthouse had seven vases — Baccarat, Lalique, old antiques — and every single one needed flowers because Kaushiki believed he should walk into a home filled with beauty.

Earlier that morning, she had pressed a small wad of cash into Sonali’s hand.

“Buy roses. The best ones. The freshest ones.”

Sonali went out early in the morning, returning with bundles of long and velvety red roses still dewy from the cold.

Now, as she walked toward the other vases with the stems in her hand, she glanced back at Kaushiki, smoothing the silk fabric over her waist.

Her eyes sparkled with pure delight. Hope. Love that hurt. Love that healed. Love that destroyed.

And Sonali thought quietly to herself:

He doesn’t even know how much she waits for him.

How much she prepares.

How much she loves.

But as she arranged the roses into the tall vase near the entrance, she still smiled.

Because tonight, at least for a few hours, Kaushiki would get what she had been starving for—

him.

Earlier in the afternoon, Kaushiki had shown Sonali her freshly painted nails and said with a small smile, “A woman should always look beautiful for her man… clean, neat and hygienic.” She had done the manicure herself, sitting by the window with focus. Sonali had only laughed softly and agreed.

On the table beside them, there had been at least twelve bottles of nail polish arranged in a perfect line — nude shades, deep reds and sheer pinks. All luxury brands, their tiny gold caps gleaming against frosted glass.

Kaushiki had simply reached for the soft blush-pink one, the shade that made her fingers look delicate and almost doll-like.

Now after arranging all the roses, Sonali wiped her hands on her apron, came to her, and said:

“Madam, now you should rest for some time. You’ve been up since morning.”

Kaushiki shook her head instantly.

“No, no… I can’t rest now.”

Her voice was soft but stubborn.

She walked quickly toward her room, the red fabric of her dress brushing lightly against the marble floor. Inside, she sat before her large illuminated vanity — a custom piece, gold-lined with imported bulbs that made her skin glow.

She brushed her hair first.

Then she picked up the curling wand.

“Curls shouldn’t look messy,” she murmured to herself, wrapping a strand around the barrel.

She redid each curl patiently, making them softer, glossier and more defined.

She tucked two strands behind her ears, tilted her head left, then right, checking in the mirror, making sure every angle looked perfect.

Finally, she reached for her French imported perfume.

A tall and elegant bottle of amber glass.

She held it close to her collarbone and pressed the nozzle.

Pshhh.

A cloud of delicate scent of jasmine, cedar and vanilla wrapped around her like silk.

She sprayed behind her ear, her wrists, the inside of her elbows and one mist in the air before walking through it slowly.

Her skin caught the fragrance like second nature.

She looked at her reflection again.

She inhaled deeply and smiled.

Kaushiki stepped out of her room, heels tapping lightly against the polished marble. She scanned the penthouse with sharp, restless eyes, as if seeing it for the first time in days.

“Sonali, clean the sofa cushions properly… and fix the throw blanket. Nirvaan doesn’t like untidiness,” she said.

Sonali blinked and sighed softly. “Didi, you said this already… twice. I’ve cleaned everything. Everything is in its place.”

But Kaushiki was too nervous to listen. She moved past her, adjusting a vase here, straightening a tray there, lifting a pillow, putting it down again. Her palms were cold and excited.

She walked straight into the kitchen.

The smell of creamy sauce, garlic, herbs and warm bread hit her first.

She lifted a pot lid, checked the pasta and checked the chicken even though she had made it herself just an hour ago.

All ready.

With Sonali’s help, she began setting the table downstairs in the dining space. She worked quickly but carefully.

She lit the tall red candles one by one.

Placed the crystal vases filled with fresh red roses in the center.

Straightened the cutlery again, even though Sonali had already done it.

Poured red wine into the elegant glass meant for him.

Filled only water in her own.

On the table she arranged everything she had cooked since morning, after the call came:

Creamy and rich chicken Alfredo pasta.

Golden and perfectly roasted garlic and herb chicken.

Margherita pizza with thin crust, basil leaves placed like little green crowns.

Crispy and lightly salted French fries.

Greek salad.

Sonali stood at the corner watching her.

She had watched her all day from morning till evening — cooking, cleaning, checking the clock every fifteen minutes, fixing her hair, re-doing her lipstick, arranging her dress, and still, somehow, looking nervous like a schoolgirl waiting for her first love.

Sonali thought she had seen Kaushiki happy before… but not like this.

“Didi,” she said softly, “you’ve done everything yourself today. I’ve helped, but… The effort you’re putting in…”

She paused, voice dropping. “It shows how much young master means to you.”

Kaushiki didn’t look up. She was adjusting the napkin folds again.

“He means… everything,” she whispered.

Kaushiki was adjusting the last candle when her phone suddenly vibrated on the marble counter.

She froze for a second then she rushed to the kitchen island. The moment she saw the name lighting up the screen: Nirvaan,

her whole face lit up like someone had switched on a thousand lamps inside her.

She picked it up instantly, breathless.

“Hello?” she said, smiling already.

His voice came, deep and calm.

“What are you doing, Kaushiki?”

Her smile widened, soft and shy. “I was just… setting up the dinner… are you on the way, yet? I’ve made everything already—”

“Kaushiki… I—”

A pause.

“I… can’t come tonight. There’s an urgent meeting. Something important came up and I can’t postpone it.”

She blinked.

The smile collapsed.

“What?” the word escaped like a breath punched out of her lungs.

He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I know I promised—”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

Her voice was small, almost mumbling.

“But you… you said… you said tonight. Dinner. You said.”

She looked at the table she had prepared — candles, wine, roses and the empty plates.

“Why? Why now?”

Her hand pressed against her forehead as she paced in circles.

“I am sorry, baby. I will let you know when I can come—”

“Ten days, Nirvaan… ten days I’ve waited. I—I cooked everything… I bought flowers… I—”

Silence.

Her breathing became uneven as the reality hit her.

Then she fell apart.

“Nirvaan, don’t do this to me!” she suddenly yelled, voice breaking.

“You don’t understand! I waited the whole day! I planned everything, I—”

Her voice cracked, turning into frustrated whining.

“I wore the red dress you bought… I lit candles… I cooked everything myself, Nirvaan! Don't do this! Don’t!”

He tried to cut in, gently

“Kaushiki… listen, please. I have no choice—”

“No!”

She stomped her foot like a hurt child.

“You always have a choice! You just don’t choose me! Don’t cancel on me! Not today! You can’t do this—”

“Kaushiki…”

She could hear movement on his end.

Muffled voices.

“Nirvaan who is there? Don’t— don’t go, don’t cut the call, talk to me—”

But his voice came rushed now.

“I’ll call you later, someone important just came in. I’m sorry.”

“No wait— Nirvaa—”

The line cut.

Just like that.

Leaving her standing in the warm golden glow of the candlelight she had lit for him.

Her phone slipped from her hand onto the table with a soft thud.

Her vision blurred.

All the effort, the food, the perfume, the flowers and the excitement...

everything stood untouched and meaningless.

And Kaushiki stood there, angry, whining, breath shaking,

heart slowly breaking inside her chest.

Then everything inside her snapped.

She walked toward the kitchen stiffly at first… then faster… then almost running as the tears finally spilled down her face.

Sonali heard her footsteps and turned from the counter.

“Didi? What happened—”

But Kaushiki didn’t answer.

She was already reaching for the pasta bowl, the one she made with trembling hands and so much love.

She lifted it and slammed it into the dustbin, the creamy sauce splattering the insides.

Sonali flinched.

“Didi! what are you doing—”

Kaushiki grabbed the wine glasses next — one shattered on the floor before Sonali could even step forward. Red wine splashed across the marble like blood.

“No... please! Wait—”

Kaushiki didn’t hear anything.

Her cries were too loud.

Raw.

Animalistic.

Like mourning.

She dragged her fingers through her hair, shaking her head violently, sobbing as she stumbled to the table.

Then she attacked it.

Not out of anger

but heartbreak.

She threw the Greek salad along with the ceramic bowl, and it hit the wall, cucumber and feta sliding down as the bowl cracked.

She grabbed the vase of roses next.

And she hurled it to the ground.

The glass exploded into a scatter of glittering shards.

The roses fell apart, some petals torn, stems bent, water seeping across the floor like a slow-moving stain.

Sonali reached out helplessly.

“Kaushiki… please… stop, you’ll get hurt—”

But Kaushiki was already on her knees, scooping the roses back up only to slam them down again, petals crushing under her palms.

Her cries grew louder and more high, sharp as well as painful.

Like someone mourning a death.

She dragged the Margherita pizza box off the table and threw it across the room.

The garlic-herb chicken dish followed, crashing against the counter.

Everything she had touched with love an hour ago was now ruined.

Sonali stood there, hands trembling, eyes glossy with tears.

She wanted to stop her — but she couldn’t.

She knew heartbreak when she saw it.

And this girl…

this girl loved that man too much to be stopped tonight.

Kaushiki finally collapsed on

to the messy floor, surrounded by shattered glass, crushed roses, spilled wine and ruined dinner — her entire evening destroyed.

She sobbed into her hands, body shaking violently.

Sonali slowly knelt beside her, touching her back gently.

“Didi…” she whispered, broken.

But Kaushiki only cried harder, her voice echoing through the penthouse like grief itself.