Dear Readers,

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This is an unedited draft of the book, meaning there will be several grammatical errors, name mismatches, plot discrepancies, and other sematic errors. If that is something you find offence, please do not proceed further.

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Swati Sandeep

Dhuv had a very predictable routine. He reported to his restaurant sharp at 11.30 in the morning and left by 2.30. He came back at 6.30 and stayed back until closing. He did not believe in over taxing himself. There was a time when he gave his 24 hours to the restaurant, but soon realized that the profits came at the price of Dev's happiness. The boy wanted to spend time with him and often ended up at the restaurant.

Dhruv had to take a step back and prioritize his baby brother. Dev only had him and Dhriti. His sister gave the boy all the time she could, but as a surgeon she was always on call. Her life was not her own, and it was unfair to ask more of her. So he had to take a step back, and it proved to be the best decision of his life. Work life balance was very much needed. Both his business and Dev thrived because of the decision.

After two years Dhruv once again found himself spending more time at the restaurant. This time he did not have a choice. The EMI had to be paid and Dev's college fee could not wait, which meant the extra money was needed. He started taking custom orders for VIP guests from all the major star hotels in the city. That was enough to fill in the coffers. Some of those guests left generous tips that the hotels shared with a bare minimum cut. Dhruv did not regret the hours he put in, but he regretted not spending the time with Dev.

So, when the boy turned up in his restaurant he was not surprised, rather he was glad. Dev rushed to hug him as soon as he walked inside. Dhruv was in his office instead of the kitchen, going through the supply list. He opened his arms for his baby brother.

"Yaar aap ghar kyun nahi aate. (Why are you not coming home?)" Dev whined, refusing to let go. Dhruv pulled a chair for him and gestured to him to sit down. He had a meeting in 30 minutes. A businessman from New York had asked to meet him specifically. Dhuv did not know what he wanted but as a businessman himself he could never turn down a prospective client. That was the reason he had stayed back after his regular hours.

"I have a meeting, beta." Dhruv poured a juice of freshly squeezed lemonade. Nothing at his place was packaged. He took great pride in offering his clients freshly prepared food. Even the spice mix he used was prepared by his staff. It was extra work, but Dhruv was particular to maintain the USP.

"Kuch khaya tune? (Did you have anything?)"

Dev shook his head. When he had gone home he realized that his brother had not come back so he had rushed straight to the restaurant. The metro had taken 30 minutes, he could not stop for a meal.

"Kya khayega? (What will you eat?)"

"Momos?"

Dhruv called his Sous Chef and asked him to get a plate of freshly steamed momos with soup. They had already prepared a fresh batch. Dumplings were a very popular item on the menu, which meant they were prepared everyday.

"How was your day?"

Dev gave a dramatic sigh. "Poocho maat. My teacher is driving me crazy. I am not able to get a hang of the technique. It's so hard, Bhaiya." Dev shook his head. The other children did nor find it difficult because they practiced at home. He on the other hand did not have a guitar at home. Though Dhruv got him one when he used to take classes as a child, that was not the latest model. Dhriti promised to get him one soon, but it was an expensive model and she was pooling money.

"Why?" Dhruv frowned. He knew nothing about college, but he understood that it was the teachers responsibility to help the students.

"I need more practice."

"With what?"

Dev hesitated. He was not good at lying.

"Bata, bacha. (Tell me) Do you need any extra help? Maybe some kind of coaching?"

Dev nodded his head. He needed a teacher who could teach him the technique. In college it was difficult to have a one-to-one session. He did great with all instruments, but was lagging behind in Violin. In the first year they were expected to master 6 musical instruments. Violin proved to be a challenge to him.

"Okay. Then why don't you enroll in some classes? Look for the weekend classes or evening ones. Don't overdo it, but see what works for you."

Dev shook his head. They were already paying too much for his college fee, and the VoN training. He did not wish to add on to the burden. "I will manage, Bhaiya."

"How?" Dhruv made him look at him. "Me and Dhriti will be of no help. You need someone to guide you. Take the help, Dev."

"It's expensive, Bhaiya."

"Kitne baar samjhaya ke paiso ke bare me maat soch? (How many times have I told you not to worry about the money?) Money spent on education is never wasted, it is an investment. Now don't argue and look for a good coaching centre. I will take care of the fees."

Dev still felt guilty, but Dhruv refused to take no for an answer. He handed Dev his laptop and asked him to go through the available options.

"Make sure you have something in our neighborhood. Don't go too far, Bacha. It's okay if we have to spend a little extra. I don't want you straining yourself."

Dev's eyes filled up. He felt like the lowest low, for deceiving his Bhaiya. He wanted to tell Dhruv everything, but he had given his word to Driti and that shackled him. If he were to tell the truth to Dhruv, it would create differences between the siblings, he could not bear if something like that were to happen.

"Kya ho gaya, bacha? (What happened, bacha?)" Dhruv gently cupped his face.

"I am giving you so much trouble, Bhaiya. You cannot even take a break. Agar main nahi hota to (If I was not there) ..."

"Maar khane hai? (Do you want a whack?)"

Dev shook his head. His Bhaiya was a lenient guardian, but he never spared the rod. He did not wish to incur his Bhaiya's wrath.

"Then don't talk nonsense. You are my brother, my family. Kal ko mughe kese cheez ke zaruart pade to kya tu mere madat nahi karega? (If I need something tomorrow, will you not help me?)"

Dev looked down, he was not in a position to give anything back to his Bhaiya, but he would always be there for him. He would make sure his Bhaiya and Di wanted for nothing in life.

Dhruv ruffled his hair. "Yeh sab sochne ke tere umr nahi hai. (This is not the time for you to think about such things.) Focus on your studies, first. Get a good job, or start your own business. Make something of yourself. That is what I want for you. That is what mumma wanted."

Dev nodded his head. He would make his Bhaiya proud no matter what.

Before Dhruv could say anything else, his manager called him to inform that the client was waiting for him. Dhruv asked Dev to wait in the staff resting room. As most of the staff had already left. The room was free. Dev would be comfortable there. He could not keep the client waiting.

Dhruv immediately saw Aman Shekhawat as the quintessential businessman. The man was well prepared, and knew what he was talking about. The ease with which he greeted Dhruv was charming and set the note for their conversation. The man knew how to get his way. It did not hurt that he was dressed for the occasion. Aman Shekhawat was there to create an impression. What surprised Dhruv was that the man came all the way from New York to fulfil his mother's wish. Even if he had hated the man, the intent would have impressed Dhruv.

"So you see," Aman leaned back on his chair, and spoke softly. "She is in love with you. I don't know what magic you cast in the kitchen, but she is enthralled. She told me that you remind her of her mother's cooking."

"I take that as a big compliment." Dhruv's voice rang with sincerity.

"Believe me it is the best compliment. No one can hold a torch to my grammy's cooking. She is the best. She was the best." Aman's eyes flickered in regret. They had lost their grammy two years back. It still hurt to think that she was gone.

"I am sorry for your loss."

Aman nodded his head. "We miss her, we will always miss her. So, when Mumma said you reminded her of Grammy, I was shocked. I don't believe anything blindly, Mr. Randhawa. I dined at your restaurant yesterday. Let me offer you my sincere compliments. The Biryani blew my mind away. My sister is already in love with you."

Dhruv offered a polite smile. He did not understand where the conversation was going.

"Since two of my women are in love with you, I have a proposition for you that you cannot refuse." Aman came to the point.

Dhruv nodded his head. He was waiting for it. Aman opened the file that he got with him and showed him the blueprint of something that looked like a fancy restaurant.

"We are opening three of them in New York, this Christmas. It was my Grammy's dream to have restaurants that offered homely meals. She wanted the Indians living in New York to have better access to our food. Though we have a lot of upscale restaurants, most of them have westernized the menu, or go for quick meals. She wanted something authentic. Something 100% our own. She was training a few chefs for the purpose when she came down with a stroke. We lost her immediately."

Dhruv felt a pang in his heart. He did not know the woman, but still felt a strong connection.

"I want you to take over the restaurants." Aman once again leaned back against the chair. He wanted to see the excitement in Dhruv's eyes. He was offering him a deal that would change his life forever. He had Dhruv investigated. The business was thriving but the man had too many responsibilities. He was there to play the angel who would offer him freedom and prosperity. Aman could not help feeling smug. He was about to change Dhruv Singh Randhawa's life forever. "You will have complete control, Dhruv. All three restaurants will be under you. You don't have to worry about your business here, I can have someone hired to manage everything for you. If you say yes, I will have the Visa's ready in a few days. Your brother can transfer to a college in New York or anywhere in the States. Shekhawat Group will take care of his entire education. Ms. Radhawa could relocate too, if she wants. I can arrange for a job. We take care of our employees, Dhruv. You can trust me."

Dhruv took a deep breath. The offer was irresistible. It would change their lives forever. Aman was offering him a magical solution to all his problems, but he had to refuse. He was offered a very lucrative position in New York a few years back. Dhriti was against the idea. She did not wish to stay anywhere near their grandparents. She did not stop him, but she made it clear that she would not come with him. He could not leave his siblings behind. Which meant the door was closed to him.

Amaan's smile deepened, waiting for Dhruv to say yes.

"I am sorry, Mr. Shekhawat. I will have to say no."

For a second Aman could not comprehend. "I am sorry. Did you say no?" It was the first time someone had refused him anything.

"I am sorry." Dhruv apologized sincerely. "I have to thank you for your generous offer, but I am not in a position to move?"

"Why?" Aman could not hold back the question, but quickly schooled his emotions. He could not act desperate. "I mean, I understand that you are used to taking your own calls. Believe me you will have complete say over the management. If you want ownership, we can talk about profit sharing."

"Mr. Shekhawat.... Aman. This has nothing to do with money. You have already offered a generous proposition, but this is personal for me. I cannot come to New York. If it was any other place I would not have hesitated a second, but New York is not for me. I am sorry."

Aman could not understand the reasoning at all. It was a golden opportunity. From all the research he had done he had assumed he was dealing with a smart man.

"However," Dhruv said softly. "Since this is your grandmother's dream, I will help in any way I can. If you have a good chef in mind, I can train him, offer him all the recipes, in exchange for a promise that the integrity of the dishes would not be compromised."

Aman took a minute to reevaluate the situation. He had few choice things to say about Dhruv's answer, but the compromise the man offered did not seem bad. He could still get what he wanted, but his mother's wish would be unfulfilled.

"Could you atleast be there for a few weeks every year? Maybe you can ease my new guy, stay until the restaurants take off. Maybe even come over to supervise. Think about it, Dhruv. You don't have to give me a quick answer. My offer still stands if you change your mind. If not I can come up with a reasonable compensation for the services you offered. My mother would want you for the opening." Aman had quickly gauged that the guy was sentimental. He played to Dhurv's weakness.

"I will consult with my family." Dhruv said after a few minutes of silence. "I cannot relocate, Aman, but we can agree to something. Please offer my sincere thanks to your Mother. She is always welcome to my place."

Aman nodded his head. He could hear a dismissal. The man confused him, but at the same time he felt a spark of respect. If Dhruv had said no, he would have walked away without a backward glance. Aman did not negotiate with fools, but the man offered him a compromise like any good businessman would do. Though he was annoyed at the refusal, he could appreciate the deal. All he had to do was find a way to make the man come to New York. Aman was determined to get his way.

Akhsu looked at the door, praying Aman would come soon. She had come to meet Dheer, but found him drowning in alcohol and self pity. Dheer was very careful when it came to alcohol. Though he had an occasional drink, it was nothing more than courtesy. So, to say she was shocked was an understatement of the year. What shocked her more was his tears. She had never seen the boy in that state before.

She got rid of the bottle, but it was still difficult to get him to talk. Dheer was a very social person, but his emotions were tightly guarded. Even under the influence of alcohol he was not prepared to talk. She had broken the previous bottle, and he had ordered fresh cases in retaliation. She did not know how to stop him. They were not even friends, yet she found it hard to walk away from him. He was a kid. She could not let him destroy his health.

When she heard the knock she rushed to open the door. Aman did not look happy, but that did not bother her at all.

"Thank god, you are here." She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. "Please use roko. (Please stop him)."

Aman could smell the alcohol from a distance and crunched his nose in disgust. He was no saint himself, but he always knew his limits. The boy was a complete idiot, but he was an adult. They had no right to interfere with his decisions.

"Is liye bulaya tune mujhe? (You called me for this?")" Aman shook his head. "Let the idiot booze. Chal dinner karte hai. (Let's go for dinner)"

Akshu took a step back, glaring daggers at him.

"Stop him, Aman. The kid is upset. He does not know what he is doing."

"The kid is 21, and a genius. He does not need a guardian. Let's go." Aman reached for her hand but she swatted it away.

"Will you do something about it?"

Aman pretended to give it a thought and then shook his head. "Nope"

Akshu wanted to yell, but she knew her brother like the back of her hand. There was no doubt that Aman was upset, or he would have stepped in by now. Her brother was not the type to walk away from people he cared for, and whether Aman wanted to acknowledge it or not, he cared for the Kid.

"Please, Bhaiyu. Bacha hai woh. (He is a kid.) Please help him."

Aman's eyes glinted. Akshu only called him Bhaiyu when it suited her. She knew he could not say no when she used the term. The girl knew exactly where to hit.

"Please?" Akshu gave him the best puppy eyes she could. Aman shot her an annoyed look but marched to Dheer and grabbed the bottle from his hands. Dheer shot him an annoyed look.

"What?"

Aman removed the glass from his hand and put it at a safe distance. From the amount consumed he was sure the kid was completely wasted.

"That is enough to cry over any chick that broke your heart. Anymore and you will end up in the ER. And I am not in the mood to babysit morons. So, no more booze for you."

"Go away, Aman. I don't need a daddy." Dheer pushed him away.

"If I played daddy, your ears would be ringing, kiddo. Sit." Aman dragged Dheer to the couch. The boy was sprawled on the floor, his jacket discarded, hair in a mess. Dheer would die before he let anyone catch him that way.

"What got into you?"

"Nothing." Dheer scoffed, trying to get up. He almost stumbled. Aman had to hold him before he fell face down. The boy was crying and he was completely oblivious. Aman helped him to sit and knelt before him, blocking access to the armchair.

"Who broke your heart?"

"No one" Dheer tried to get up, but Aman did not let him. "Order a black coffee, Akshu." Aman said without looking at her. He was really worried about Dheer.

"Kahan gaya tha tu aaj? (Where did you go today?)"

Dheer looked away. Aman gestured for Akshu to come over. She had a better chance of reaching him. Akshu hesitated, but came over. Aman let her take his face.

"Talk to him." Aman encouraged her. "He trusts you."

Akshu held Dheer's hand. The boy was not looking at her, only crying.

"Kese ne kuch kahan, Dheer? (Did anyone hurt you, Dheer?)"

There was no answer. Akshu gently cupped his face. His eyes were bloodshot. She felt a pang in her heart. "Kya hua. Bata na. (Tell me what happened.)"

Dheer tried hard to hold back, but he had reached his breaking point. Akshu's concerned eyes reminded him of the mother he lost. She had the same hazel eyes. His hands traced those eyes. He wished she was there with him. Akshu tensed. Dheer had never touched her before. She wanted to pull away but Dheer's words stopped her in her tracks. "You have her eyes." The voice was filled with so much longing that she could not pull away.

"Whose eyes?" Aman chimed in. It was the only time they could get any answers from Dheer. He was well aware.

"Mumma's."

A gasp escaped, Akshu's eyes. Aman shook his head. Dheer was seven when he lost his parents in a car crash. He knew because he believed in having his employees thoroughly investigated. The boy was in the car with them when the crash happened. Reports had it that Dheer was nested safely in his mothers arms. That was why he survived the crash.

Akshu reached for Dheer's hands. "I am sorry, you lost her, Dheer." She tried to offer him all the comfort she could. "But your Mumma would be hurt seeing you this way. No mother likes to see their child destroy themself. Tell me what happened. Maybe we can help you?"

Dheer shook his head. "No one can help me, they hate me."

"Who hates you?" Aman's brows furrowed in a frown.

Dheer did not answer.

Aman gave up and called Dheer's bodyguard. He always knew where Dheer went. The boy could not step out without security, disadvantages of being the Randahwa Heir. Amaan was shocked by what he learned. He looked back at his sister who was trying to coax Dheer into talking. He walked to them and pulled Akshu back.

"How are you related to Dhruv Singh Raidaza?" He looked the boy in the eyes. Though the last name was the same, he could not dream about Dhruv being related to the Randhawas. Now the coincidence could not be ignored.

Dheer shrugged his shoulders. "I mean nothing to him."

"That is not what I asked, Dheer. How are you related to Dhruv? You went to meet his sister today. How are you related?"

"Dhruv?" Dheer looked back at Aman. "Do you know him?"

Aman nodded his head. "I am here for him."

Dheer was too intoxicated to think clearly, but he remembered the chef who Aman seeked. "What a fu****g coincidence."

Akshu cringed. Dheer never cussed. The alcohol was doing a number on him.

"He needs to sleep it off."

Aman shook his head. "He needs to get it out of his system." Aman grabbed Dheer's chin and forced him to look at him. "Now tell me how you are related. This time the truth. You know I can find out with one phone call. Save me the trouble."

"They are my cousins." Dheer shrugged him away. He wanted to be left alone. He did not need anyone. He could do what Dhriti wanted. He could fulfill his grandmother's dreams. He did not need anyone's favors. Not the Shekhawat's, not his cousins.

Akshu and Aman shared worried glances. Nothing made sense to them.

"You are boozing because you met her?"

Dheer laughed. "I am a heartless bas***d. Why will I drink to drown out her words? I am dead to her anyway. Maybe she wanted me dead in that crash. Her mother celebrated anyway. Maybe they did too. Maybe they all want me dead. I was a fool to think otherwise."

Akshu stepped away. The voice was filled with resentment and hurt. She did not know what the truth was, but of one thing she was sure, the boy was hurt. She was not the one to judge anyone, but she wanted to judge his cousins for hurting Dheer.

"Why did you come to India?" She asked the only question she could.

"Because daadi wants to see them" Dheer's voice slurred. "She loves them....they won't come..... Not as long as I am there.....dead... they..... Want..... Dead...."

Dheer lost consciousness. His words made no sense to the siblings. Akshu stepped back and let Aman help the boy to the bed.

Once done he stepped back and looked at his sister. "Tu jaa. (You leave). I will take care of him,"

Akshu nodded her head. She could not ignore Dheer's distress. "Are the rumors true?"

Aman shook his head. "How can we know, Akshu? It's a family thing."

"I pray the rumors are not true, Aman. No child deserves that kind of cruelty. It must have been so hard to cope up with the loss."

Aman pulled her closer to his heart. "Mr. and Mrs. Randhawa are good people, Akshu. The boy was raised well."

Akshu nodded her head, but she hoped the rumors were not true. No child deserved the cruelty. 

PS

The chapter was getting too long so I had to stop here. Next episode will have Dhruv meeting with Dheer. The story will start from chapter 7. What you read until now was only a prelude. Stay tuned!