“Ready, Chutki?”

Like the start of their every mission, Mishti hears her brother’s voice asking through the transmitter to which she nods. 

“Ok, target approaching in five seconds.” Mihir states and Mishti stands there as ready as ever, this time all alone. Their last con in the neighbouring city had caused quite a ruckus due to which her brother couldn’t participate with her in this one, neither could she get into the get up of a blind person.

But that’s ok, Mishti is more than capable of crying through their last mission alone.

Last. Or atleast that's what they have been told.

“Focus, Mishti!” her brother’s voice alerts her, and her gaze immediately falls on the car that is approaching her; the speed of it, however, is slower than usual which is both a good and a bad thing for her. Good that she won’t get hurt in actuality and bad that maybe she won’t get hurt at all. It will be difficult to pretend.

Readying herself anyways, she takes up her position, checking the fake blood in her hands one last time, as well as her safety pads, her eyes flitting from her knees to the car, however as soon as she does that, in her view comes in the sight of the man behind the wheel.

It's not the driver dressed in white.

It usually isn't because they don't go for that big of the targets, but this is a Rolls Royce she is talking about, and this definitely demands a driver. But instead, it is, what looks like the owner, who is driving the car.

But that's not the fact that takes her breath away, leaving her staggering on her feet.

It's that man. Their target.

Mishti can’t believe her eyes, because not in a hundred years could she think of seeing him this way again. The same man that she had sat in the cab with and had dropped home; the man whom she had treaded with him into his room and had petted his hair until he had stopped his crying; the same man who had caught her lying in the very first time, and the one whose broken heart she had shattered even more.

Mishti is seeing that man after four  agonising and excruciating years that she had spent thinking of the same night, again and again, unable to throw out any crumbs of the memory, be it the man's tear-stained cheeks or his disbelieving chuckle.

Though now the said man is right in front of her, and she's planning to con him, to guilt-trip him into hitting a person, probably paining his already pained heart. Because something that she got to know from that small encounter all those years ago is the fact that he is not one of those men who would throw the cash on her face or would ignore her fake tears. He's probably one of those who would take her to the hospital and pay for her bills.

Mishti doesn't want to lie to him again.

And so she doesn’t.

Call it an impulsive decision but Mishti doesn’t do it. She walks back to the footpath until the car has all the space to pass through. Her brother’s voice echoes in her ears as a background noise, reprimanding her.

“What are you doing, Chutki. Go and stand in front of the car.”

But she can’t hear anything because the car is passing in front of her eyes, and he is sitting inside. Mishti doesn’t know if he’s just as heartbroken or not, she hopes it's the latter, but she suddenly wants to go and ask him, to talk to him for a few minutes, even seconds would do.

But she can’t do any of that right now, not with her brother marching across the street with a frown on his face, who is followed by the rest of the members, concern shadowing their features.

Uh oh, looks like she’s dead.

“Mishti!!” he says and every thought except for her brother not calling her 'Chutki' like usual, vanishes from her head.

“How could you do this? You knew it was our last mission!” her brother’s accuses, taking her by her hand into their car, away from the eyes of the public.

“It’s ok,” Raghav intervenes, trying to calm Mihir down but he doesn’t budge. 

“No! It’s not ok. We planned so much for this.”

Yes, they did and had she completed this mission, they would have - they would have been something that they aren't now. Free.

“Bhai, I-I’m sorry-” 

“Sorry isn’t enough, Chutki.” He says, running a frustrated hand through his hair, his voice still loud but at least he is back to calling her with the pet name.

"It'll not happen again, Bhai, I'm - I'm really sorry!" Mishti promises but her brother isn't looking at her right now, his gaze frowning at the pavement, an almost defeated look on his face.

“I don’t understand! Why? We had discussed everything. What happened? Why did you -’’

“It’s ok, Mihir.” This time it’s usually quiet Ruhi who intervenes which surprises all of them collectively. “We can plan this again. Mishti must have had a reason behind not doing this and even if that’s not the case and she was simply nervous, then also it’s ok. No task or freedom is more important to us than each other’s wellbeing.” She says and takes Mishti's hand in hers, patting it and give her a small smile which she returns with her wobbly one.

This time when Mishti looks at her brother, it is to find him conflicting with his emotions, looking partly frustrated, partly understanding, partly guilty but mostly defeated. It doesn't fit well with Mishti who walks up to him and gives him her best puppy eyes until her brother gives in, pulling her closer from her head and taking her into his arms, sighing over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for overreacting, Chutki but it was not only the mission that I was worried about but you too. These last second alterations could’ve cost you your life, what would I have done thereafter? You’re the most important person to me, Chutki, you need to remember that.” 

Mishti nods in her brother’s chest, mumbling a small promise to always keep this in mind from next time. The incoherent mumbling makes Mihir conjures up a fond smile, one of which he presses in his sister’s hair and the other one he throws across her shoulder to the girl standing there, staring at the ground.

*

“Ok, so we have the Plan B with us,” Mihir announces once everyone is sitting across him around the table. “And Ranvi, please stop eating those wafers!” he chides, making Ranveer sheepishly put the snack down.

“So, the guy we were targeting was Samrat Agnihotri. He is a businessman, the President of one of India's leading furniture manufacturing companies, SEPIA.” Mihir tells them.

The last time they had delved this deep into their target's life except for the car they drove, had been years and years ago. Still, it is not the first time that Mishti is listening to the information carefully but it is the first time she is actually interested in knowing about their target.

She is dying to know more about their target.

Samrat Agnihotri. Nice name.

SEPIA - she knew about it already. Ha!

But she doesn't know anything else, and so it doesn’t come as a surprise to her when she raises her hand, intervening in the discussion.

“Do we know anything about his personal life; something big that has happened with him recently or even four or five years ago?” Mishti tries coaxing out more details, wanting to accumulate as much information as she can.

Unsurprising to herself though, her intervention comes as a big shock to the rest of the gang, not accustomed to having their littlest member this active ever.

When everyone continues looking at her as if she has grown another head, Mishti chuckles nervously, dramatically clapping her hands together.

“I was asking considering that it was me because of whom we couldn’t grab him yesterday, maybe if we’d know about his personal life, it would be easier for us to see through his psyche. J-Just that.”

“Y-Yes, of course. I was just coming to that.” With that, her brother breaks the awkward silence, giving her what looks like a slightly forced smile, while Mishti heaves a sigh of relief. 

“So, according to the media and some other resources, it's been put under our knowledge that he is a divorcee and –”

Mishti gasps loud and clear, unable to stop herself, while the meeting, yet again gets paused.

She wouldn't say that she had no idea that the man had someone in his life at that point of time, she remembers him complaining about a woman. Though she certainly hadn't thought that he would be married. It never occurred to her. He barely looked twenty two. Something that she is today.

The shock on her face can be witnessed by everyone.

Mihir throws a deadpanned look towards her at that to which Mishti yet again replies with a nervous smile. “I was just surprised because it is the first time we are dealing with a divorced person.” She lies or at least tries to until Ranveer chirps in.

“What are you saying, Mishti? Our last target was a divorced man. Not to mention, it's those rich and wealthy who get divorced the most. It shouldn't be a surprise.” He adds making Mishti curse under her breath but giving a forced smile outwardly to the rest of the group.

“Yeah….I forgot.”

“Ok, so resuming with the point,” Mihir begins but not before giving Mishti a pointed look to which she winces internally. “He got divorced four years ago, and even when there had been a share of wealth, the man is still filthy rich because in the same year he lost his father that made him inherit the comp- "

“What!" Mishti can't help but shriek, causing everyone to roll their eyes at the expected intrusion.

“What now, love? Don't say you haven't dealt with a fatherless person before. We are all fatherless." Ruhi jokes, a sad chuckle leaving her mouth that Mishti tries to imitate, though she is sure it must have come out more as a grimace.

"N-No, I wasn't going to say anything...." She trails off trying to ignore the rush of memories that comes with the information.

"She went after a year, and he took twenty two to go.....no one stays."

Was that what he had meant that day?

The wife and the father?

Mishti gulps thickly, pushing back the rush of emotions and gives everyone a reassuring smile so that they can continue.

“Ok, so now that we know all this, where do we go from here?” Raghav asks, very much invested in the task, “Like we can’t do that car thing again, do we have some other option?”

“Yes,” Mihir answers, “We do. This is where his mother, Mrs Vineeta Agnihotri comes in. She hires the staff for him whether he is in India or the US, the latter of which he has recently returned from. I don't think that man in his late twenties would need his mother for such a trivial job but she refuses to back off. That woman is yet to hire Samrat’s personal chef, but this time it will not be some unknown person who’d go to Samrat’s place but one of us. We’d go in the place of the selected worker.” Mihir states and all of them nod, still observing the information.

“It would clearly either be Mishti or Ruhi who would go because his mother has zeroed out on a woman, so Raghav, better luck next time.” He chuckles at Radhav and directs a small smile towards Ruhi, but when it's Mishti's turn to recieve the smile, he squints his eyes.

“- but because Chutki clearly is very distracted these days, I think it would be better if Ruhi goes.” Mihir says with a firm nod.

“What? No! I’ll go!” Mishti almost jumps out of her seat, baffling everyone for the nth time today. 

“No, Chutki. I'm not doubting on your abilities, I assure you, you make the best food in the world and you're very efficient with your job but we can’t ris –”

“That’s because his car had a dashcam inside it,” Mishti lies smooth as butter.

“What?”

“Really?”

Both Mihir and Ranveer ask at the same time, mouths agape and widened eyes. The rest of the two aren’t in a better position.

Mishti nods in all seriousness, guilty of lying to them.

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t do it yesterday. But this time I’ll not let anything come in my way. I assure you.”

“Hmmm,” they all stay silent and think for a minute until Raghav nods, followed by Ruhi and Ranveer but Mihir doesn’t.

“Give me a day to decide.” 

Mishti slumps in her seat.