21-12-2025, 12:09 PM
Chapter 11 – The Anniversary
The party hall was alive with warmth and laughter. About twenty people — old colleagues from Prem's trading days, a few new faces from his growing team, and Pratap as the honored guest — filled the space with toasts and memories. Aara darted between legs, chasing balloons, her giggles cutting through the chatter.
Prem watched Nivi circulate, saree shimmering under the lights, fair skin glowing, curves graceful as she smiled and thanked everyone. His heart swelled. The surprise in his pocket felt heavier by the minute.
He pulled her aside near the cake table. “Nivi, I hid something for you in the hall. Find it — your anniversary gift.”
Nivi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hidden? Okay…”
She searched discreetly — behind decorations, under tables — until Aara, jumping excitedly, pointed to a decorative box on a side table.
Nivi opened it.
Inside: a sleek keycard and engraved plaque.
Prem Infinity Solutions
Her eyes widened at the engraved plaque, then softened — not with joy, but something quieter, almost resigned.
She turned to him, voice calm and measured. “Congratulations, Prem.”
He beamed, heart racing, expecting more — tears of happiness, a jump into his arms, that wide smile she used to give when dreams felt close.
But she extended her hand formally, like a colleague at a meeting.
He took it, grip lingering, confusion creeping in. “I thought you’d jump in joy. Don’t you remember? It’s your dream — starting a company. I’m doing it. For us.”
Nivi’s smile stayed polite, but her eyes turned distant, as if looking past him.
“Congrats, darling,” she said softly. “But if I was the one starting it… maybe I’d jump. This is yours. How can I take credit for your doings?”
Prem felt something crack inside — small, sharp, like glass under pressure.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice dropping. “Yours/mine — it’s ours. We’re husband and wife.”
She tilted her head slightly, gaze steady. “What’s my role in the company?”
He laughed, trying to lighten the moment, brush it off as teasing. “Don’t joke. Your time is perfect — home, Aara. I’ll take care. Consider it your company; I’m just managing it anyway.”
He laughed again, a bit shameless, expecting her to join in.
But he caught it — her face turning cold, sudden, like a light switching off behind her eyes.
The warmth gone.
Smile frozen.
He clapped quickly, forcing cheer. “Okay, okay — surprise done. Let’s cut the cake.”
They stepped to the table together, knives in hand, smiles plastered for the crowd.
Flashes from phones.
Cheers.
But between them, the air felt heavier.
The cake cut clean.
The moment didn't.
Everything went normal again — toasts, gifts, Pratap arriving with a warm envelope and hug.
Prem felt guilty — the old suspicion about Pratap's closeness to Nivi. But Pratap sensed nothing, or pretended not.
Almost an hour later.
A luxury white car pulled into the parking — the one from Nivi's morning accident.
Rohan stepped out, suited, tall frame commanding even in casual stride.
He headed straight to the office room adjacent to the hall — his routine monthly check on accounts and progress.
One of his entities — premium party halls chain.
Coincidence he came tonight.
As he browsed systems in the quiet office, eyes scanning reports, his gaze drifted to the hall monitor feed.
Nivi.
The party hall was alive with warmth and laughter. About twenty people — old colleagues from Prem's trading days, a few new faces from his growing team, and Pratap as the honored guest — filled the space with toasts and memories. Aara darted between legs, chasing balloons, her giggles cutting through the chatter.
Prem watched Nivi circulate, saree shimmering under the lights, fair skin glowing, curves graceful as she smiled and thanked everyone. His heart swelled. The surprise in his pocket felt heavier by the minute.
He pulled her aside near the cake table. “Nivi, I hid something for you in the hall. Find it — your anniversary gift.”
Nivi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hidden? Okay…”
She searched discreetly — behind decorations, under tables — until Aara, jumping excitedly, pointed to a decorative box on a side table.
Nivi opened it.
Inside: a sleek keycard and engraved plaque.
Prem Infinity Solutions
Her eyes widened at the engraved plaque, then softened — not with joy, but something quieter, almost resigned.
She turned to him, voice calm and measured. “Congratulations, Prem.”
He beamed, heart racing, expecting more — tears of happiness, a jump into his arms, that wide smile she used to give when dreams felt close.
But she extended her hand formally, like a colleague at a meeting.
He took it, grip lingering, confusion creeping in. “I thought you’d jump in joy. Don’t you remember? It’s your dream — starting a company. I’m doing it. For us.”
Nivi’s smile stayed polite, but her eyes turned distant, as if looking past him.
“Congrats, darling,” she said softly. “But if I was the one starting it… maybe I’d jump. This is yours. How can I take credit for your doings?”
Prem felt something crack inside — small, sharp, like glass under pressure.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice dropping. “Yours/mine — it’s ours. We’re husband and wife.”
She tilted her head slightly, gaze steady. “What’s my role in the company?”
He laughed, trying to lighten the moment, brush it off as teasing. “Don’t joke. Your time is perfect — home, Aara. I’ll take care. Consider it your company; I’m just managing it anyway.”
He laughed again, a bit shameless, expecting her to join in.
But he caught it — her face turning cold, sudden, like a light switching off behind her eyes.
The warmth gone.
Smile frozen.
He clapped quickly, forcing cheer. “Okay, okay — surprise done. Let’s cut the cake.”
They stepped to the table together, knives in hand, smiles plastered for the crowd.
Flashes from phones.
Cheers.
But between them, the air felt heavier.
The cake cut clean.
The moment didn't.
Everything went normal again — toasts, gifts, Pratap arriving with a warm envelope and hug.
Prem felt guilty — the old suspicion about Pratap's closeness to Nivi. But Pratap sensed nothing, or pretended not.
Almost an hour later.
A luxury white car pulled into the parking — the one from Nivi's morning accident.
Rohan stepped out, suited, tall frame commanding even in casual stride.
He headed straight to the office room adjacent to the hall — his routine monthly check on accounts and progress.
One of his entities — premium party halls chain.
Coincidence he came tonight.
As he browsed systems in the quiet office, eyes scanning reports, his gaze drifted to the hall monitor feed.
Nivi.
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