22-12-2025, 11:58 PM
Chapter 24 – The Night in Bangalore
The day before the Bangalore trip, tension hung in the penthouse like monsoon clouds.
Prem paced the living room after dinner, Aara already asleep.
Nivi packed quietly in their guest bedroom — small suitcase, professional clothes, laptop.
Prem finally spoke.
“You’re going overnight. With him.”
Nivi didn’t look up. “It’s business. One night. Two meetings.”
Prem’s voice tight. “I trust you. But men… I don’t trust any man.”
He paused.
“With Rohan… he’s plastic. No emotion. All business.”
Nivi zipped the bag. “That’s why it’s safe.”
Prem shook his head. “And Aara? Two days?”
Nivi turned. “Rohan arranged a sitter. The staff here know her routine.”
Prem’s jaw set. “He’s a businessman. Sees only outcome. Doesn’t feel family. That’s why his wife and kids are in Kerala.”
The words landed hard.
Nivi’s eyes flashed — brief, controlled.
She stepped closer.
“Please. Just this once.”
Silence.
Prem looked away.
Finally, reluctant: “Okay.”
But his face said he was unhappy.
“Soon build it big,” he muttered. “Hire staff. No more outside trips.”
Nivi nodded.
But inside, she registered the fight.
The blame.
The control.
The morning arrived.
Flight to Bangalore — business class, Rohan’s booking.
In the lounge, he slid a folder across.
Nivi opened it.
Company papers.
Nivisha Managing Ltd.
Incorporation documents. Her name as Managing Director.
50% shares — hers.
His — silent.
She looked up, stunned.
“Why not your name? Mine?”
Rohan smiled, small.
“It was your dream, right?”
Her throat tightened.
She took a photo of the cover page.
Thought of posting it — proof, pride.
Then didn’t.
Not yet.
The meetings flew.
First client — impressed by the pitch, the vision.
Signed by afternoon.
Second — even faster.
All done by early evening.
Nivi closed her laptop.
“All ended so soon. Going back to Chennai?”
Rohan stood, stretched.
“No.”
She blinked.
“You look like a machine sometimes,” he said. “I decided to show you Bangalore’s night life. We fly back tomorrow. Come. Enjoy this.”
Nivi hesitated.
Unsure.
It felt like… an unsaid date.
But she followed.
They explored.
MG Road lights. Street food — she laughed at his attempts with masala dosa.
Then a rooftop bar — music thumping, city sparkling below.
Nivi didn’t drink.
But when the DJ played an old favourite, she danced.
Free.
Hair loose, saree pallu slipping with movement, body moving to the beat.
Rohan watched from the edge — drink in hand, eyes dark.
When it was time to leave, the crowd surged.
Nivi lost in the press of bodies.
Rohan panicked — real, raw.
He pushed through, heart hammering.
Spotted her.
Grabbed her hand — firm, protective.
Pulled her out into the cool night air.
She looked up, breathless.
His face still disturbed.
“You okay?”
He exhaled. “I panicked looking for you. Only when I held your hand… I breathed again.”
Nivi sensed it.
Safety.
Care.
She smiled softly. “You speak this well? I never knew.”
They walked to the car in silence — hands brushing, not quite letting go.
Back at the hotel — luxury penthouse suite Rohan had booked. Top floor. Private pool terrace overlooking the city.
They sat at the edge, feet dangling, lights twinkling below.
Nivi spoke first.
“Thank you. For everything. From the bottom of my heart.”
Rohan looked at her — long, steady.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
She shook her head. “I do. The company. The name. The chance. No one else…”
Her voice trailed.
He reached out — slow — tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered on her cheek.
“You deserve it, Nivi.”
The air shifted.
Heavy.
Charged.
She didn’t pull away.
The city lights reflected in her eyes.
And for the first time, she leaned — just slightly — into his touch.
The day before the Bangalore trip, tension hung in the penthouse like monsoon clouds.
Prem paced the living room after dinner, Aara already asleep.
Nivi packed quietly in their guest bedroom — small suitcase, professional clothes, laptop.
Prem finally spoke.
“You’re going overnight. With him.”
Nivi didn’t look up. “It’s business. One night. Two meetings.”
Prem’s voice tight. “I trust you. But men… I don’t trust any man.”
He paused.
“With Rohan… he’s plastic. No emotion. All business.”
Nivi zipped the bag. “That’s why it’s safe.”
Prem shook his head. “And Aara? Two days?”
Nivi turned. “Rohan arranged a sitter. The staff here know her routine.”
Prem’s jaw set. “He’s a businessman. Sees only outcome. Doesn’t feel family. That’s why his wife and kids are in Kerala.”
The words landed hard.
Nivi’s eyes flashed — brief, controlled.
She stepped closer.
“Please. Just this once.”
Silence.
Prem looked away.
Finally, reluctant: “Okay.”
But his face said he was unhappy.
“Soon build it big,” he muttered. “Hire staff. No more outside trips.”
Nivi nodded.
But inside, she registered the fight.
The blame.
The control.
The morning arrived.
Flight to Bangalore — business class, Rohan’s booking.
In the lounge, he slid a folder across.
Nivi opened it.
Company papers.
Nivisha Managing Ltd.
Incorporation documents. Her name as Managing Director.
50% shares — hers.
His — silent.
She looked up, stunned.
“Why not your name? Mine?”
Rohan smiled, small.
“It was your dream, right?”
Her throat tightened.
She took a photo of the cover page.
Thought of posting it — proof, pride.
Then didn’t.
Not yet.
The meetings flew.
First client — impressed by the pitch, the vision.
Signed by afternoon.
Second — even faster.
All done by early evening.
Nivi closed her laptop.
“All ended so soon. Going back to Chennai?”
Rohan stood, stretched.
“No.”
She blinked.
“You look like a machine sometimes,” he said. “I decided to show you Bangalore’s night life. We fly back tomorrow. Come. Enjoy this.”
Nivi hesitated.
Unsure.
It felt like… an unsaid date.
But she followed.
They explored.
MG Road lights. Street food — she laughed at his attempts with masala dosa.
Then a rooftop bar — music thumping, city sparkling below.
Nivi didn’t drink.
But when the DJ played an old favourite, she danced.
Free.
Hair loose, saree pallu slipping with movement, body moving to the beat.
Rohan watched from the edge — drink in hand, eyes dark.
When it was time to leave, the crowd surged.
Nivi lost in the press of bodies.
Rohan panicked — real, raw.
He pushed through, heart hammering.
Spotted her.
Grabbed her hand — firm, protective.
Pulled her out into the cool night air.
She looked up, breathless.
His face still disturbed.
“You okay?”
He exhaled. “I panicked looking for you. Only when I held your hand… I breathed again.”
Nivi sensed it.
Safety.
Care.
She smiled softly. “You speak this well? I never knew.”
They walked to the car in silence — hands brushing, not quite letting go.
Back at the hotel — luxury penthouse suite Rohan had booked. Top floor. Private pool terrace overlooking the city.
They sat at the edge, feet dangling, lights twinkling below.
Nivi spoke first.
“Thank you. For everything. From the bottom of my heart.”
Rohan looked at her — long, steady.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
She shook her head. “I do. The company. The name. The chance. No one else…”
Her voice trailed.
He reached out — slow — tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered on her cheek.
“You deserve it, Nivi.”
The air shifted.
Heavy.
Charged.
She didn’t pull away.
The city lights reflected in her eyes.
And for the first time, she leaned — just slightly — into his touch.
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