[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
------
When he had compromised his dreams and...
♬ tum ho kamaal, tum bemisaal, tum lajawab ho, aishaa..
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"Priya, what are your plans for tonight?" Krithika asked, attempting to enjoy her coffee despite its questionable taste.
Eww, why can't they make a decent cup of coffee here?
"I'm definitely going to wear something expensive," Priya replied with a wink. "Honestly, it's peer pressure, but who cares? I want to look my best. It's not like we get invites to parties like this every day."
Krithika nodded, grimacing slightly at her coffee.
"What about you?" Akash asked, taking a sip of his green tea. "I'm going with my trusty casuals. When you've got a good fit, you don't need much else."
Priya raised an eyebrow. "Fit, huh?" she teased, eyeing him up and down. Akash's gaze dropped as he muttered a few expletives, his light brown cheeks flushing pink. The group burst into laughter at his instant reaction to Priya's teasing.
"I'm thinking of a cocktail dress," Rashi chimed in. "I've got one I've been saving for just this kind of event."
Krithika listened to their ideas, starting to doubt her own choice. Every month, after covering essentials like rent, groceries, and bills, she barely had anything left over for herself. She was strict with her budget, saving every penny and only buying absolutely necessary things. Sure, people thought she was stingy, but she knew better. Life had taught her that money bought independence if not happiness.
She'd never cared much for a luxurious lifestyle. Yes, she was the daughter of a wealthy man, but her parents hadn't exactly showered her with riches. She'd grown up like any other middle-class girl.
"I'm planning to wear a dress I made for my farewell ceremony in my final semester," she blurted out, before she could stop herself.
Her friends looked at her in shock, as if she'd just announced she believed in a flat-earth theory.
"You never bought yourself a dress? And wait—you made?" Priya asked, staring in disbelief.
I don't need your pity. Please.
Yes, she had sewn her own dress, unwilling to ask her parents for money. They'd made it clear she was on her own ever since she left for her master's degree. She'd earned a full scholarship—a nice slap in the face to her father, who had once called her a brainless fool. She worked part-time to cover her expenses, and when it came time for her farewell, she couldn't bring herself to beg again. So, she made a dress from a saree she'd snuck into her suitcase when saying goodbye to her mother. It wasn't fancy, but it was beautiful.
"I should probably leave early," Krithika said with a weak smile, eager to end the conversation. "The map showed there's heavy traffic near my P.G." She excused herself quickly, hoping to avoid more questions. She wasn't about to go into details about her family or her complicated relationship with her parents—especially her father.
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Krithika let out a deep breath, realizing she'd been holding it. Running out on her friends might have looked cowardly, but that was her style. She kept people at arm's length, dodged questions, and avoided conversations that could lead to pity. She'd created her own version of independence—a way to shield herself from people's sympathy.
She'd built up these boundaries, both personal and professional, to protect herself from being someone's "charity case." Too many people in college had given her that "poor thing" look, saying, "Oh, your father doesn't support you? That's rough."
She didn't need any of that. The only time she'd let her guard down was with Satya, who'd heard more of her story than she'd intended. But she'd trusted her mentor, who had gone on to confront her parents directly.
Krithika wanted people to respect her for her work and dedication, not for any sob story. She was grateful, at least, for her sharp mind—it was one thing her parents couldn't take credit for. She'd fought for every tiny victory, celebrating each step until she'd finally earned a place on Satya's team.
She wasn't about to ruin that by oversharing her traumas.
She'd been hesitant when Satya suggested seeing a therapist—probably a close friend of hers—but had eventually given in. Therapy had helped, even if her therapist had insisted on a discounted rate, which initially irritated her. But slowly, she came to terms with it. She no longer resisted the help it offered.
Grabbing her things, she hurried out of the office she shared with her team. Her fingers fidgeted as she waited for the elevator, anxiety twisting in her chest like a vine, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, the elevator doors slid open. She inhaled sharply.
Not now. Not today.
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Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.
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