Courtroom – Mumbai High Court – 10:12 a.m.
The murmur of voices dulled to a hush as the judge entered the courtroom, the air thick with expectation. Parineeti stood, files neatly organized in front of her, black robes immaculate. The opposition was already in place—Ivan Petrov, the foreign legal consultant flown in for the case, flanked by an elite Indian legal team led by Advocate Rekha Suri.
On the side benches, Vikram sat beside Vyom, arms folded, expression unreadable. But his gaze was fixed on Parineeti—calculating, unwavering, almost like he was drawing strength from her every move.
The judge adjusted his spectacles and looked down at the thick stack of documents. “We continue today with the second hearing in State vs. Singhania Industries, regarding alleged violations in international export law, fund diversion, and suspected ties to a Mauritius-based shell corporation.”
“Ms. Parineeti Gupta, proceed.”
She rose, calm and deliberate. “Your Honour, the opposing counsel would like you to believe that Singhania Industries has, knowingly or otherwise, laundered funds through an offshore entity known as Roswell Mercantile Holdings. However, I submit to the court new documentation that rebuts this claim, and more crucially, establishes a trail of forged authorization and a third-party handler unaffiliated with my client.”
She handed over a set of documents to the court officer, who passed them to the judge.
“These are internal audit records from March through June,” Parineeti continued, “highlighting irregularities that the internal compliance team flagged—but more importantly, a series of email exchanges between Singhania’s logistics arm and an unknown handler using a masked IP routed through Jakarta.”
Ivan Petrov stood, adjusting his cufflinks. “Objection. The emails in question are speculative and unverifiable unless traced by a certified international cyber unit. We question their authenticity and relevance.”
Parineeti didn’t flinch. “That’s precisely what we’ve done.” She turned to the judge. “Annexure 12 includes the certified report by Suresh Mahale, India’s foremost forensic IT analyst. The IP rerouting and masking technique was meant to mirror the company’s internal domain—but the code signature does not match Singhania’s infrastructure. It’s a digital forgery.”
The judge flipped through the annexures with a raised brow. “That is... substantial.”
Petrov leaned forward, voice cold. “Even so, Ms. Gupta, how do you explain the money trail?”
She tapped the final folder. “That trail, Your Honour, ends with Elaric Exports Ltd., a front entity based in Cyprus, with no legally registered existence beyond a dormant fax line. The funds were rerouted post-authorization by a former employee, Raghav Sinha, who resigned weeks before the financial year closed. We believe this person is connected to a transnational ring known to infiltrate Indian corporate structures—using shell firms to smuggle illicit goods disguised as legal shipments.”
The courtroom broke into a flurry of whispers.
The judge cleared his throat. “And you’re saying Singhania Industries was unaware of this manipulation?”
Parineeti nodded firmly. “Not only unaware, but actively targeted. They’ve cooperated in full with every financial and cyber investigation launched in the past month. My client has submitted to an independent audit and frozen all associated accounts. These are not the actions of a guilty firm, Your Honour. These are the actions of a responsible corporation attempting to clean house after infiltration.”
Silence.
Then the judge turned to the opposing counsel. “Mr. Petrov. Your rebuttal?”
Ivan rose slowly, jaw tight. “We will require time to go over the forensic report and verify chain of custody.”
“Granted. We reconvene in three days. Ms. Gupta—impressive presentation.”
Parineeti bowed her head with professional grace and returned to her seat, shoulders squared.
From the bench, Vikram watched her with a glint of something more than admiration. For once, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter.
---
Mumbai High Court Parking Lot – 1:17 p.m.
The sharp tap of heels echoed across the sunlit court steps as Parineeti exited the building, her expression calm but her body humming with adrenaline. The hearing had gone better than expected. Petrov was rattled, the judge seemed cautiously leaning in their favor, and more importantly—Vikram hadn’t said a word during the entire session.
It was unnerving. No cryptic notes, no sarcastic murmurs. Just stillness. She spotted him leaning against his car, sleeves rolled, blazer folded neatly over his arm, eyes covered in sleek black sunglasses that couldn’t hide the sharp angles of his face or the intense stillness in his posture.
“Parineeti.”
She adjusted her robe slightly, coming to stand beside him. “Mr. Singhania,” she replied, formal as ever.
But he smiled faintly. “You’ve earned the right to drop the ‘Mr.’ at least for today.”
She quirked a brow. “Tempting. But I’ll wait until we win the case.”
He looked at her, head tilted. “You’re already sounding like part of the board.”
She gave him a look. “Don’t push your luck.”
There was a beat of silence, then both chuckled lightly—tension giving way to a sliver of ease.
“I have to say,” Vikram said, folding his arms, “Watching Petrov squirm was almost better than a boardroom win.”
“Almost?” she teased. “So courtroom drama doesn’t thrill you, Mr. Mafia-Tinged Business Tycoon?”
“I never said that,” he said smoothly. “But you—” he paused, lowering his sunglasses just a bit, “—you were extraordinary.”
Parineeti blinked. Her heart stumbled before she quickly recovered. “Flattery is unbecoming, Singhania. Especially from clients.”
“Noted,” he said, pushing off the car. “Which is why I’ll reframe it as a fact. You were brilliant. And I was... proud.”
The word proud lingered between them a second too long.
Before she could respond, he changed gears. “You’re free tonight?”
She blinked. “Why?”
“I need to take you somewhere.”
Her brows drew together. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“And that’s intentional.”
Parineeti gave him a narrowed glance. “Is this about the case?”
“No.”
“Then what is it about?”
He leaned closer, his voice a notch lower. “Eight o'clock. Dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up.”
She frowned, stubborn. “You’re being vague on purpose.”
“Yes,” he said with a maddening smile, stepping into the driver’s seat. “And don’t think too much. It’s not a trap.”
“You say that like it is one.”
But the car had already pulled out of the lot, his hand lifted in a silent wave.
Parineeti stood there for a second longer, lips pressed, pulse fluttering for reasons she refused to name. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she knew—it wasn’t just another dinner or a drive.
Something was changing.
And tonight, she was going to find out what.
---
The late evening sun slanted through the curtains, casting golden strips across the Gupta living room. The faint aroma of sandalwood lingered in the air, mixing with the comforting scent of home-cooked dinner.
Parineeti stood at the balcony, arms crossed loosely over her kurti, watching the breeze rustle through the gulmohar tree outside. Her father sat on the swing behind her, his newspaper half-folded, his glasses perched low on his nose.
“Papa,” she said softly, not turning.
He hummed in response.
She hesitated. “How did you know?”
A beat.
“Know what?”
“That… Ma was the one.”
Arun looked up, brows arching slightly, surprised but not startled. He removed his glasses, folding them slowly. “That’s a very unexpected question for this hour.”
She turned now, facing him, arms still folded but her gaze steady. “Humor me.”
He smiled, patting the space beside him on the swing. She sat down, tucking one leg beneath her.
“You really want to know?”
She nodded.
He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling fan slowly circling. “I was twenty-six. Just appointed Assistant Public Prosecutor. I thought I knew everything—about justice, about morality, about people. And then I walked into my first high-profile case… and got destroyed in court by this woman in a crisp black saree with arguments like steel.”
Parineeti’s lips twitched. “Ma.”
He grinned. “Your mother was a storm. Beautiful, terrifying, relentless. I came home that day angry, humiliated—and completely smitten.”
“So you fell in love because she beat you?”
“I fell in love,” he said, gently, “because she made me want to be better. Not just as a lawyer. As a man. I admired her conviction. Her mind. And how she never, ever flinched from the truth—even when it hurt.”
Parineeti’s smile faded into something softer.
“Love isn’t always a sudden thing, beta,” he added, voice low. “Sometimes it grows—quietly, stubbornly. In respect. In challenge. In stillness. In chaos.”
Her throat tightened. She looked away.
Arun studied her a moment. “Is this about someone?”
She didn’t answer directly. Just asked, “Did you ever doubt? That she’d choose you back?”
“All the time,” he admitted. “But I told myself, if she didn’t… I’d still be proud to have loved someone like her.”
Parineeti blinked hard. The room felt warmer now, the swing a bit too still.
Her father placed a hand over hers. “When it’s real… you won’t have to chase it. But you might have to fight for it. Even if the battlefield is your own heart.”
She looked up at him slowly.
And for the first time in days, she whispered, “Thank you, Papa.”
He smiled, eyes gleaming. “You’re welcome, my lioness.”
---
Parineeti stood in front of the mirror, lightly dusting rose-gold shimmer onto her eyelids, pausing mid-stroke as she caught her own reflection.
What am I even doing?
She wasn’t sure what this was. A date? A formal meeting? A thank-you dinner for winning the hearing against Ivan Petrov? Knowing Vikram, it could be any—or none—of those. The man was maddeningly good at keeping her on edge.
Her lip tint wobbled slightly as she applied it. Get a grip, Gupta.
She’d changed out of her kurti into a dusky blue saree, the border simple but elegant. Subtle. Her hair was down, lightly curled at the ends. A pair of diamond studs—her mother’s—rested against her earlobes. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard, but somehow, she still had.
Why do you care what he thinks?
That question came like a whisper from deep inside.
She ignored it.
Downstairs, she heard her father's voice chatting with someone.
And then a car door.
Her heart did something ridiculous.
She slid her feet into her low heels and checked her reflection once more.
Elegant. Calm. Composed.
Even if her nerves were anything but.
—
Vikram stood by the main gate, dressed in a slate black shirt, sleeves rolled, charcoal trousers and that usual air of easy dominance. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hand through it moments ago. When he saw her step out, his gaze swept over her in one smooth, unreadable glance—but his jaw tightened slightly. That was all she needed.
So he noticed.
“Good evening, Mr. Singhania,” Arun said with a faint smile, arms crossed.
Vikram inclined his head respectfully. “Mr. Gupta. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of your daughter’s company tonight.”
Arun chuckled. “I didn’t allow. She decided.”
Parineeti stepped beside them, catching her father’s gaze.
He gave her a small nod that said, I trust you. Go.
“Ready?” Vikram asked, voice lower now, just for her.
Parineeti arched an eyebrow. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No.”
“Still?”
He opened the passenger door for her like a true gentleman. “Trust me.”
She slid inside, catching one last look at her father, who gave a small wave from the porch.
The moment Vikram took the driver’s seat, the car filled with a strange tension—not uncomfortable, but electric.
Parineeti looked sideways at him. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet all day.”
“I had a lot on my mind.”
“About the case?”
His lips curved. “Partly.”
She waited. He said nothing more.
Frustrated, she folded her arms. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, immensely.”
He didn’t look at her. But the corner of his mouth lifted in that maddening smirk.
Parineeti stared out the window, lips twitching despite herself.
She wasn’t sure what this night was going to be.
But she knew one thing for sure:
She was in trouble.
—
The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open.
Prabhas stood near the railing of the private rooftop lounge, overlooking the glittering city skyline. He wore casual black trousers and a pale-blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves, phone in one hand, glass of water in the other. When he turned at the sound of footsteps, his jaw visibly clenched.
Parineeti walked in first, elegant and effortless in a midnight-blue jumpsuit, her hair tucked behind one ear, a smirk teasing her lips. Behind her, Vikram strolled in—dark blazer unbuttoned, a hint of cockiness in his stride.
Prabhas blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Parineeti raised a brow. “Missed me already, bhaiya?”
“Missed warning you to avoid shady rooftop invitations,” he shot back, arms folding across his chest. “Vikram, care to explain?”
“I wanted a quiet dinner,” Vikram replied smoothly, placing his phone face-down on the table. “You’re my guest. So is she.”
“You didn’t mention she’d be here.”
“You didn’t ask,” Vikram said with a shrug, before pulling out a chair for Parineeti.
Prabhas stared, torn between a groan and a laugh. “You two… Seriously?”
Parineeti sat with a smile. “Come on, bhaiya. You know he’s impossible.”
“She agreed to come,” Vikram added helpfully, taking the seat opposite her. “I merely bribed her with dessert.”
The waiter arrived, pouring wine and placing down menus. The atmosphere remained light, even playful—Parineeti and Prabhas trading quips while Vikram stayed mostly quiet, watching the two of them with something unreadable in his eyes.
“So,” Parineeti said, stirring her mocktail. “What’s on the agenda? Cricket, courtroom drama, or the fact that you both never talk unless forced into fancy locations?”
Prabhas smirked. “I was hoping it was just a business dinner.”
Vikram leaned back, eyes fixed on Prabhas. “It’s not business. It’s personal.”
Parineeti went still.
The smile dropped from Prabhas’ face. “Knew it.”
There was a pause, just long enough to allow the tension to slip into the space between them.
“I brought her here,” Vikram said carefully, “because I want everything out in the open. No secrets. No whispers.”
Parineeti turned to him, puzzled now. “Vikram…”
He touched her hand gently beneath the table, but kept his eyes on Prabhas. “You think I betrayed Rohit. That I stood by when he was swallowed by the system. You’ve thought that for years. But you never asked me what really happened.”
“I know what happened,” Prabhas snapped.
“No. You know what it looked like from the outside,” Vikram said, voice low, steady. “You never knew how many nights I begged him to stop. How many people I tried to keep off his trail. I didn’t betray him—I tried to protect him. And I failed.”
Parineeti’s breath caught.
Prabhas didn’t answer right away. He was watching Vikram, searching his face.
“And now,” Vikram continued, glancing briefly at Parineeti before returning his gaze to Prabhas, “I’ve asked her to marry me.”
Silence.
Parineeti blinked, stunned that he just said it out loud like that.
“You what?” Prabhas said slowly.
Vikram nodded once. “I love her. I want a future with her. But not until the past between us is cleared. Not until you know the full truth.”
There was a moment of stillness—no anger, just weight.
Then Prabhas sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “You could’ve just emailed me, you dramatic bastard.”
Parineeti burst out laughing, the tension easing for just a beat.
Vikram cracked a small smile too. “That wouldn’t have gotten me dessert.”
---
Parineeti had excused herself to the washroom, leaving the two men alone under the soft, golden glow of the rooftop lanterns.
Prabhas sipped his drink slowly, his eyes trained on the city skyline. “You always had a flair for the dramatic.”
Vikram didn’t respond right away. He rested his elbows on the table, fingers laced, the lines on his face deepened by the shadows.
“I didn’t bring her to provoke you,” Vikram said quietly. “I brought her because she deserves the truth. You do too.”
Prabhas’s jaw tightened. “You should’ve told me years ago.”
“I couldn’t,” Vikram admitted. “Back then, anything I said would’ve sounded like an excuse. You were grieving Rohit, and I… I didn’t know how to reach you.”
“You didn’t try hard enough.”
Vikram took a breath, leaned forward. “Do you think I didn’t love him too? That night—the night before he disappeared—he asked me if I’d cover for him if things went wrong. He knew he was walking into a storm. I begged him not to go. I arranged for a car, a fake ID. But he wouldn’t leave.”
Prabhas turned slowly, his expression unreadable.
“He told me,” Vikram continued, “‘If I die, make sure it means something.’ I’ve spent years trying to uphold that promise in silence. You thought I stayed quiet because I was guilty… but I was protecting people. Witnesses. His family.”
“You should’ve trusted me,” Prabhas said after a long pause.
“I should’ve,” Vikram agreed. “But back then, I didn’t even trust myself. And by the time I could speak… we’d already lost each other.”
The silence between them now felt different—less bitter, more broken.
“I don’t want to lose you too,” Vikram added quietly. “Not with Parineeti in the picture. She means everything to me, Prabhas. But I’ll never stand in the way if she ever chooses differently.”
Prabhas looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in years.
“I don’t trust easily, Vikram. But I trust her,” he said. “If she’s chosen you… there must be something worth seeing.”
Vikram’s shoulders dropped just slightly, like a man who’d been holding his breath too long.
“But if you ever break her—” Prabhas warned, his voice suddenly steel, “I won’t come at you as a brother. I’ll come at you as the man who still hasn’t forgiven you for losing Rohit.”
Vikram gave a solemn nod. “Fair.”
"One more thing ,she didn't choose me,not yet"
A few moments later, they heard the soft sound of heels approaching. Parineeti returned, glancing between them.
“What did I miss?” she asked, smoothing her hair.
Vikram stood, reaching for her hand. “Just an old friendship… finding its voice again.”
Prabhas exhaled and rose, nodding to both of them. “I’ll be watching. But I’m listening now too.”
---
Vikram and Parineeti stood outside the restaurant, the cool night air wrapping around them as they bid farewell to Prabhas.
Prabhas, still holding a quiet intensity, extended his hand to Vikram first. "Goodnight, Vikram. I’ll see you soon."
Vikram nodded, a subtle but meaningful expression crossing his face. "Take care, Prabhas."
The silence between them lingered briefly, then Prabhas’s gaze shifted to Parineeti. A quiet, almost imperceptible nod. "Take care of her."
Parineeti smiled softly, but there was a weight in her eyes. "I will. Goodnight."
As Prabhas walked away, Vikram turned to Parineeti. There was a lightness now, but beneath it, the resolve of two men who had just peeled back years of silence. Parineeti glanced at Vikram, her eyes searching his face, still processing the exchange.
"I didn’t expect that," she said quietly. "With Prabhas. I thought…"
Vikram chuckled, stepping closer to her. "Trust me, neither did I." He met her gaze, his voice softening. "But it’s a step forward, isn’t it?"
Parineeti nodded, though there was something else in her expression. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or just the weight of the evening catching up with her.
"Let’s head home," Vikram said, his hand brushing against hers as they walked toward the car. "I’ll drop you off."
They got into the car, and the drive was peaceful, the usual tension now replaced with a comfortable silence that neither of them was eager to break. But Parineeti could feel the shifting air around them. The unspoken things now filling the space between them, and not just about the night. She still didn’t quite know what to make of the proposal—what to make of everything.
As the car moved through the city streets, the hum of the engine was the only sound between them. Parineeti finally spoke, breaking the quiet. "You’ve changed a lot, Vikram."
He looked over at her, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. "Have I?" he asked, almost as if testing the waters.
"Yeah," she replied, her voice soft but certain. "Before, you always had that... barrier up. But now it’s different. I can see it in your eyes."
Vikram’s lips curled into a faint smile, but there was a trace of something more serious in his eyes. "People change, Parineeti. Some more than others."
Parineeti tilted her head slightly, studying him. "What does that mean for you?" she asked, her tone thoughtful.
He didn’t answer immediately. They drove in silence again, and for a moment, it seemed like the weight of his words hung between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. "It means that I want to do things differently now. I want to make things right—no more games, no more pretending."
She glanced at him, catching a flicker of sincerity that took her by surprise. There was something raw in his voice, something more honest than she had ever heard before.
"Okay," she said simply, not fully understanding what he meant yet, but sensing the depth of it.
The car rolled into the driveway of her family’s home. Parineeti turned to Vikram as they came to a stop. "Thanks for the evening, Vikram."
He nodded, his expression softening. "Anytime. We’re making progress. You’ll see."
Parineeti hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. As she stepped out, she looked back at him. "Goodnight."
Vikram’s voice was low, but there was a sincerity there. "Goodnight, Parineeti."
She walked to the front door, turning back one last time to find him still watching her from the car. For a split second, it almost felt like they were both standing on the edge of something new—something that neither of them had fully figured out yet.
But for the first time in a long time, it felt like they might be on the same side.
--------------------------------------
Write a comment ...