Prashanth leaned against the railing of the office balcony, staring out at the horizon. The factory hummed behind him. A steady rhythm of machines weaving thread after thread, a far cry from the freedom he craved. The sky, endless and unbound—that was where he belonged. Not here, not in the middle of a family legacy he had no desire to inherit.

His grandmother's question from earlier that day still lingered in his mind, haunting him like an echo he couldn't shake.

"What would you do if the company were passed down to you?"

The answer should have been easy. He didn't want it. The threads, the machinery, the responsibility—it wasn't for him. He needed the open air, the feel of control at his fingertips as he soared above the clouds. The weight of expectations, the tethering to the ground, it all felt suffocating.

Prashanth ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "No attachments, no expectations." That had been his mantra for years, the very thing that had kept him sane. He wasn't ready to think about the future—about a life where people depended on him, where he had to face the thought of being left with nothing and no one.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. A quick glance showed nothing urgent, and with a heavy sigh, he straightened and decided it was time to leave. He pushed away from the railing and made his way downstairs, nodding at the workers who passed by but never really seeing them.

As he stepped out into the parking lot, his mood was still heavy with thoughts of his grandmother and the expectations he had been dodging for years. But as soon as he saw the scene in front of him, his frustration bubbled to the surface.

There, parked right in front of his car, blocking his exit, was a woman, leaning against her car, engaged in what looked like a tense phone call. Her face was turned away from him, but thanks to his memory he knew that profile, that posture.

It was her. The girl from the airport.

Prashanth's irritation spiked instantly. Of all people. He approached the car, already bracing for the annoyance that followed every encounter with her.

"Excuse me," he called out, his voice carrying the sharp edge of frustration.

Lathika turned, and the look on her face stopped him cold. Her eyes were red, her cheeks flushed as if she'd been crying. One hand was pressed against her forehead, the other clutching her phone as she listened intently to whoever was on the other end.

"Please... can we discuss this?" Lathika's voice trembled, her words a desperate plea. "We've put in so much work, the wedding is only four weeks away. This... this can't be happening."

Prashanth paused, his irritation faltering as he overheard the conversation. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. He didn't mean to listen, but her voice was shaky, fragile—like the world she'd built was crashing down around her.

The words that came from her phone were too muffled for him to hear, but the moment the lady closed her eyes and bit her lip to hold back the tears, he could guess what was happening.

"Please," she whispered, "can we just have another conversation? Maybe we could see how we can work according to your plan? I—no, I understand. I just... I—"

She stopped, her breath hitching, her hand falling limply to her side as she listened to whatever was being said on the other end. Prashanth saw it in her expression—the way her face drained of hope, leaving behind a hollow devastation.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice breaking. "I'll review on the work done so far and send over the refund details."

She hung up the phone and stared down at the pavement, her body stiff, as though she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. The silence that followed was suffocating, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to gather herself.

For a moment, Prashanth stood there, unsure of what to do. His initial irritation had all but disappeared, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of empathy. This wasn't the girl he'd argued with at the airport—this was someone on the verge of losing something important.

But before he could even think of what to say, the lady seemed to snap out of it. She straightened, wiping at her eyes quickly as if she couldn't afford to show any more weakness. Her eyes met his, and the recognition was instant.

"You?" she said, her voice hoarse but laced with the same exasperation he remembered.

Prashanth blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone. "You're blocking my car," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, though it sounded weak even to him.

"Right. Of course I am," she muttered, looking as though she couldn't handle another confrontation.

She walked over to the driver's seat and opened the door, her movements sharp with frustration. As she slid in, she paused, gripping the steering wheel tightly before muttering, "There's always something to deal with."

Prashanth frowned. The girl looked like she was holding back a flood. But before he could think of something else to say, she started her car and reversed slowly, pulling out of the way.

He watched in the rearview mirror as she parked further down the lot and sat there, unmoving. For a moment, it seemed like she wasn't going to leave, as if she needed to catch her breath, to process whatever had just happened. But Prashanth wasn't one to get involved in other people's problems.

Still, her words echoed in his mind.

"This can't be happening."

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he fought the impulse to drive off. After all, he had no reason to stick around. But something about the way she'd said those words—the devastation in her voice—made it impossible for him to shake off.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching her through the mirror one last time before finally pulling out of the lot. He had his own problems to think about.

✈✈✈✈

Lathika sat frozen in her car, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. The call had ended, but the words from her client continued to echo in her mind, each one slicing through her like a blade.

Cancelled. They'd cancelled.

The destination wedding—another crown jewel of her business for the year—was now slipping through her fingers. Everything she and her team had meticulously crafted over the past months had vanished in an instant. Gone. And all they wanted now was a refund, as if the countless hours and energy she had poured into the project were nothing more than numbers on a balance sheet.

Her chest felt tight, like a vice slowly closing in, making it harder and harder to breathe. She stared at the phone in her lap, its screen dark and cold, as if it had delivered her ruin and was now taunting her with its silence. Seven years. Seven long years she had spent building her business, every step carefully taken, every decision painstakingly made. And now... it was unravelling.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. But more followed, streaming down in a flood she couldn't control. Her shoulders began to shake, the sobs bubbling up from a place so deep that she hadn't even realized the full extent of her pain until now.

Tara.

The name burned in her mind like a brand, a wound that refused to heal. Tara had been her trusted assistant, someone she had mentored, supported, and guided. They had worked side by side for years. And now, that same person was tearing apart her business from the inside, taking clients, stealing projects. Tara, the one she trusted more than anyone, was gutting her company.

How did I let this happen? The thought throbbed painfully in her mind, feeding her guilt. She had been so caught up in her day-to-day work, so focused on pushing her business forward, that she hadn't seen the betrayal coming until it was too late.

The wedding was only four weeks away. Four weeks. She had planned everything meticulously—the location, the vendors, the tiniest details. Lathika and her team had worked tirelessly to make the couple's dream wedding a reality. And now, just like that, the rug had been pulled out from under her.

"How?" she whispered into the empty car, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. "How could this happen?"

Another sob wracked her body, her breath coming in short gasps as she fought to keep control. But the control was slipping—slipping like everything else. She'd always been the strong one, the one who held everything together, who stayed composed no matter the situation. But right now, in the suffocating silence of her car, she was anything but strong.

It's all falling apart.

Her phone buzzed again, a cruel reminder of the world waiting for her outside this cocoon of despair. It was a message from one of her teammates—another update she couldn't bear to read right now. Her mind was already splintering under the weight of everything—Tara, the clients, the looming cancellations. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, not caring that it clattered to the floor.

The tears kept coming. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to stop the flood, but it was no use. She felt stranded, abandoned by the very people she had trusted. This isn't just business. It wasn't just numbers or contracts. This was everything she had worked for. Her identity was woven into every project, every client. This was her life.

And now... now it was being taken from her.

The panic rose in her chest like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her. How could she salvage this? The thought of calling her clients, of trying to negotiate, to salvage what little she could—it felt like an impossible task. The foundation of her business, once so strong, now felt like it was crumbling beneath her feet.

Her breath hitched again as a fresh wave of sobs overtook her. Where do I even start? The thought felt too big, too overwhelming to grasp.

She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The smell of the leather interior, normally a comforting familiarity, now seemed cloying and oppressive, closing in around her. The faint sound of distant traffic outside the parking lot barely registered, muffled by the storm inside her head.

What am I going to do?

▾▴▾▴▾▴

"Did you meet my grandson? He was heading out earlier," Raahini asked, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief as she glanced at her old friend, Jaimathi.

"My bad," Jaimathi said with a slight pout. "I didn't get to see him. I would have loved to catch him for a quick chat."

Raahini chuckled softly. "Prashanth is always on the move. You know him—if he's not flying in the sky, he's flying out of here."

Jaimathi nodded, her eyes thoughtful. "Yes, well, we've always known they're both so different, haven't we? Lathika, with all her responsibilities and grounded nature, and Prashanth... well, he has the air in his heart."

"True," Raahini agreed, her tone growing more reflective. "But different can be good, don't you think? They might balance each other out."

A sly smile curved Jaimathi's lip. "That's exactly what I've been thinking. It's why we should let them meet more. Get to know each other a little, before we start dropping hints about the alliance we've discussed."

Raahini's eyes gleamed with approval. "Exactly. They need time to understand one another. I doubt either of them would appreciate being pushed into something without knowing why."

Jaimathi sighed softly, nodding. "They're both at the age where life feels... complicated. Lathika has thrown herself into work ever since... well, since everything. And Prashanth, well, he hasn't stopped running from responsibility."

"Which is why we need to nudge them," Raahini added, "just enough to make them see the possibilities."

Jaimathi smiled, her mind whirring. "You know, I've had this idea floating around. We need to plan a Deepavali party. Both JM Spices and your company should host it together—big investors, partners, clients. The whole lot."

Raahini's eyebrow arched. "Go on..."

"Well, we'll make it more than just a party. It'll be a way to bring Lathika and Prashanth together—under the guise of business, of course." Jaimathi's grin widened. "Lathika is a brilliant event planner, and I think it's time we make her the representative of JM Spices for this event. And your grandson? Well, he should represent your company."

Raahini's smile grew, slowly understanding the plan. "You want them to work together."

"Exactly," Jaimathi said, her eyes twinkling. "Both of them are used to working in their own spheres, but if they're forced to collaborate on something like this—something big and important—they might see each other in a different light."

"And it's Deepavali," Raahini mused. "The perfect time for new beginnings."

"Exactly. They won't even know what hit them," Jaimathi said with a playful wink. "They'll be so focused on making the event a success, they won't even realize they're getting to know each other in the process."

Raahini nodded approvingly. "I like it. It's subtle. No pressure, just a chance for them to work side by side."

Jaimathi leaned back in her chair, satisfied with the plan. "I'll let Lathika know she's got a new project coming her way. And you can handle Prashanth. It'll be fun to see how they manage."

Raahini chuckled. "Fun for us, maybe. But for them? I'm sure it'll be quite an adventure."

The two old friends exchanged knowing smiles, their eyes filled with the unspoken excitement of their shared scheme. Lathika and Prashanth had no idea what was coming their way, but Raahini and Jaimathi were certain—it was time for their grandchildren to meet, not just as family but as potential partners, even if it was under the guise of business.

✈✈✈✈

So, what do you think of grannies' plan?