AMANTARA

11. AMAN

To further cloud the truth of his operations, Khurana had built an impeccable reputation of benevolence. He made generous, high-profile donations to social welfare causes, ensuring that his name became synonymous with charity in the public's eyes. This was no mere act of goodwill, it was a strategic move to bolster his image, creating the perfect facade of an ideal philanthropist.

But behind the polished exterior lay a man whose influence and power were built on shadows and manipulation. A man who knew how to play the game, always one step ahead of anyone who dared to question him.

Reaching the location, I could see the buzz of activity as everyone worked tirelessly to execute the ad with precision. Even that nuisance of a woman, despite my disdain for her, was caught up in the whirlwind of tasks, putting in the effort to make sure everything went smoothly. The team moved like clockwork, snapping a series of photos and clips, each shot more critical than the last, pushing forward with relentless urgency to get it all done.

Her presence, though irksome, seemed to blend into the chaos. Yet, I couldn't deny, she was pulling her weight. She had a way of pushing through, even when it felt like everything around her was spinning out of control.

My secretary’s reminder tugged me from my thoughts. "You have a meeting with Aurora's CEO," he said, his tone level but laced with a note of expectancy.

It had been years since we’d launched our business onto the global stage, each expansion a carefully orchestrated step forward. Today was yet another milestone, finalizing a partnership with one of the UK’s most formidable companies. The buzz about them eyeing an Indian CEO had set the industry abuzz, adding a layer of intrigue to an already significant deal.

As I approached the meeting area, however, a figure seated at the table brought my stride to an abrupt halt. A woman, poised yet commanding, sat there. Her calm authority was almost palpable. Without looking away, I turned to my secretary and murmured, "The CEO... she’s a woman?"

He nodded, and as I stepped closer, she swept a hand over her face, pushing back a lock of hair. In that moment, recognition struck like a physical blow. It was her, someone I had not anticipated, nor wished, to see. The familiarity of her face ignited a flash of memories and unease I had no time to indulge.

Of all the people, why her? The question churned in my mind as my steps faltered, the air thickening with a tension neither of us would acknowledge outright.

Anandita, the woman who shattered my belief in love and reinforced my conviction that loyalty was a mirage. The sting of her presence, even after all these years, is something I despise acknowledging. Every instinct tells me to walk away, to abandon this deal and the entanglement it represents. But professionalism has its price, and today, it demands I bury my feelings.

Five years have passed. I won’t let her see that she still stirs anything in me. Composure locked tight, I approached and took the seat across from her, as if our history were nothing but a distant echo. She lifted her gaze to meet mine, calm and unfazed, almost as if she’d expected this moment.

“Thank you for waiting, Ms. Anandita,” I said, the words smooth yet distant. My pulse quickened, betraying memories I’d buried deep, memories I thought were well-forgotten. But she sat there, unperturbed, as if none of it held any weight for her. She'd known I would be here. Her calm was a calculated blow, one that only fueled my resolve to remain unreadable, to give her no satisfaction from whatever tension lay between us.

This time, I would be the one to hold the cards, leaving no room for her to exploit. After all, in a game of facades, I've learned how to play it well.

"Aman, how are you?" she breathed, her voice carrying that gentle softness I’d once been helpless against. Hearing my name from her lips was like salt on an old wound, stirring memories I’d buried under layers of bitterness and self-protection. Part of me ached at the sound, but I forced myself to stay firm.

"Fine," I replied, my tone clipped and impersonal. "Let’s get to the point. I have another meeting soon." I kept my voice steady, devoid of any warmth, determined not to let her see the mess of emotions simmering beneath my composure. I couldn’t afford to let her see how deeply she’d once cut me, nor how much it still hurt.

"Aman, I’m sorry for-" She started to say, her voice carrying that regret I’d longed to hear once upon a time. But I wouldn’t let her go there.

"Ms. Anandita," I interrupted, each word razor-sharp, a shield against the vulnerability creeping in. "We’re here for business, nothing else." Her eyes clouded with a brief flicker of disappointment, a small fracture in her confident demeanor.

I held her gaze, willing myself not to falter, to keep up the cold indifference that had taken me years to master. Inside, though, there was a hollow ache, a reminder that love, no matter how deeply you feel it, sometimes shatters and leaves you picking up the pieces alone.

As we delved into the details of the deal, I could sense her gaze resting on me more than necessary, studying me in that old, familiar way. Why is she back? Does she regret what she did? A dozen questions clawed at my mind, but I anchored myself in one certainty: I hated her. Or at least, I would make myself believe I did. She chased wealth, and I chased her, that was the brutal difference between us. Even if I could never fully convince myself, I'd keep drilling it into my heart until it felt real.

We were nearing the end, each detail almost finalized, when she spoke up, her voice laced with quiet insistence. "I have one condition," she said, her eyes meeting mine with a challenge. "Whenever you receive the consignment, you’ll have to come in person to sign the confirmation."

It was an unnecessary stipulation, entirely out of the ordinary. She wanted me to feel her presence, to keep reopening old wounds. She was playing her cards to get under my skin, testing my resolve, and I knew it. Her intent was clear as daylight, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

"Whatever game you're playing," I said, my voice low and biting, "I hope you fail miserably." There was no reason to mask the loathing that ran bone-deep. Leaning back, I maintained a facade of calm even as resentment simmered beneath. "Anyway, fine, deal."

I knew her well enough to understand that if I refused, she'd only find another way to get under my skin. Better to close this chapter on my terms, even if it meant conceding to her conditions. Signing the contract, I stood abruptly, severing any chance for small talk.

"Aman-" Her voice tried to tether me, but I ignored it, walking out without a glance back.

Once in my car, I closed my eyes, willing myself to shake off the past. But the memories crept in, her face, her laughter, the warmth of our shared moments. Each one, a betrayal that left scars. I could feel my composure slipping, piece by piece.

I’ve come to hate the very thought of love.

Love? I’ve seen it destroy too many to fall for its lies again. It's a trap I refuse to fall into. I won’t let it ensnare me. As I opened my eyes, frustration welled up within me, and before I could stop myself, I slammed my fist into the window. The shards sliced through my skin, the sharp sting a welcome distraction. The pain was a reminder, a scar that would linger longer than the memory of her betrayal.

This was a wound I could wear. I’d let this scar stay, a constant reminder of why I’ll never fall victim to love’s twisted games again. No matter how tempting it may seem, I refuse to let it consume me.

The notification buzzed, breaking through my clouded thoughts. The words on the screen caught my attention with an unexpected chill.

Unknown: I found the location on my own. Challenge completed. No excuses, just results.

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Will Aman ever let go of the past and embrace love again? Or will his heartbreak cast a shadow over the love waiting for him?

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