The Twisted Knots

12.

Confusion wrapped around me like a shroud, and my mind echoed with an incessant refrain of disbelief.

Yash and Rajveer, brothers?

The revelation hit me like a tidal wave, catching me off guard. Their camaraderie, their shared banter – it all made sense now, but it was a truth I hadn't fathomed.

How did I miss the signs?

I replayed their interactions in my mind, the way they spoke, the unspoken understanding between them. Yet, the notion of brotherhood hadn't crossed my mind. It felt like a plot twist in a movie, a narrative twist I wasn't prepared for.

As I stole glances between Yash's composed demeanor and Rajveer's surprised expression, my confusion deepened. How did they manage to keep this a secret? Was it a deliberate omission, or had I simply overlooked the possibility? I couldn't decipher their motives or the dynamics of their relationship.

Feeling an unexpected touch on my leg under the table, I glanced up, only to catch Yash winking at me mischievously. A subtle realization dawned upon me when I noticed it was Yash's leg, gently stroking mine. Panic set in, freezing me in my seat. I cautiously looked around, finding relief in the fact that no one seemed to notice the clandestine encounter.

I shot a glare at Yash, silently urging him to cease his inappropriate actions. Instead, Yash daringly escalated by sliding his leg further beneath my outfit. A stifled hiccup escaped my lips, drawing an amused smile from Yash. In an attempt to divert attention, I hastily gulped down a glass of water, hoping to quell the rising discomfort.

Rajveer, sitting nearby, sensed the tension in the air. Startled, he dropped his spoon, bending down to retrieve it. Before he could discern the unfolding situation, I withdrew my leg, but it seemed too late. Rajveer's expression shifted, witnessing the questionable exchange beneath the table.

He abruptly excused himself, leaving the room with his untouched plate, leaving me perplexed and Yash unfazed.

Keeping his cutlery aside, dad extended a courteous smile, "Mr. Singhania, it's a pleasure to discuss business with a visionary like you. How has your journey been in the food industry?"

Mr. Singhania settled into the conversation, "It has been both challenging and rewarding, Mr. Sharma. The market dynamics are ever-changing, and I believe it's time for strategic alliances to ensure longevity."

Dad nodded, "Indeed, collaboration is crucial. Your proposal to join forces with our conglomerate intrigued us. We're open to new ventures and exploring synergies."

Mr. Singhania leaned forward, "I see great potential in the collaboration. However, I must mention my son, Yash, will be leading our business endeavors. He's young but possesses a keen business acumen."

Dad raised an eyebrow, "You're considering your son to lead the collaboration?"

Mr. Singhania explained, "Yes, Yash is the future of Singhania Industries. I envision him taking the reins. It's imperative for him to gain exposure and build connections. Rajveer is already handling our hotel management. It's a strategic succession plan."

"Succession planning is vital for continuity. It aligns with our philosophy of nurturing young talents. However, the market is competitive. How do you plan to prepare Yash for such a role?"

Mr. Singhania replied confidently, "Yash is currently gaining diverse experiences. He's learning the nuances of various industries. I want him to be well-rounded before stepping into a leadership position. It's about equipping him for the challenges that lie ahead."

Mr. Singhania's gaze shifted toward my father, his inquiry carrying a weight of genuine curiosity, "Mr. Sharma, what are your plans for the future of your business? Is Tara undergoing any training to take on a significant role?"

Dad, seemingly indifferent, let out a scoff, "What will she do with the business? I cannot let a woman handle my business. I prefer to give my real blood the right to manage it." He took another sip of alcohol, the glass meeting his lips with a dismissive air.

The words stung me deeply. Despite knowing I wasn't his biological child, the rejection felt raw. The hurt settled in my chest as my father continued, seemingly unmoved by the impact of his words.

Mr. Singhania, however, disagreed firmly, "Mr. Sharma, I must express my disagreement on that matter. Women have proven themselves in various fields, and they should be given a fair chance to showcase their abilities. Tara has the potential, and it's essential to recognize and nurture talent irrespective of gender."

Dad remained unyielding in his traditional beliefs, "I've built this empire, and I know what's best for it. Women lack the strategic mindset required for such ventures."

I felt torn between frustration and the burning desire to prove myself. My capabilities were overshadowed by my father's biased views.

Amidst the peculiar under-the-table encounter, I couldn't help but notice a shift in Yash's demeanor. His playful expression was replaced by a subtle glare directed not at me, but at my father. It was a moment of unexpected intensity, and Yash's eyes spoke volumes.

As Mr. Singhania abruptly announced the need for a private discussion with my father, I decided to give them the space they required. Already done with dinner, I excused myself, and to not my surprise, Yash followed suit.

Stepping out, the questions that had been swirling in my mind were on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out.

Yash, closing the door but leaving a slight gap, surprised me with a tight, warm hug, a beaming smile on his face. Responding to the embrace, I felt the warmth of Yash's presence, my mind momentarily drifting back to our morning kiss.

Breaking away, Yash, with a mischievous glance at my lips, took my hand, leading me towards the exit.

However, our journey came to an abrupt halt as Mr. Singhania's voice reached us, declaring, "I have a marriage proposal for Tara. I would like Tara to get married to my youngest son, Yash."

What the hell!?