Sanjana works. She's a workaholic.

Last night, a wonderful Friday night, and like every normal high-class girl, she was scheduled to attend 14 parties. She got drunk in none. She was all business.

What a bore!

And for today, as she checked in the morning, she had nothing much to do except go through some old files (a lot of them) and attend a Fashion show.

Correction: The Fashion Show.

The whole town was waiting for this show, it was after all Shivaay Singh Oberoi's precious little sister's first ever social event and to add a cherry on top, Priyanka Singh Oberoi was the debut designer!

Obviously, Sanjana is not not going to attend her rival's event! Somebody has got to kindle the fire!

It was 2.35 p.m. when the door bell rang in Sanjana Saha's Mumbai home.

She got off from her desk, putting down the papers back into the files and rushed (with poise, duh) to open the door to let her older half-sister in.

Sanjana almost rolled her eyes at her sister's fake smile, but she was too perfect for that, obviously.

"Business or Pleasure?" She asked her.

"That's not funny," said Mrs. Sarika Gandhi.

"I wasn't trying to be," replied Sanjana, curtly, as she and her sister knew very well there was rarely any 'pleasure' experienced from their meetings.

Sanjana moved towards her kitchen with Sarika tailing behind her, humming an old song and grunting at Sanjana's wall of memories with obvious displeasure.

"When are you going to take these down?" Sarika questioned her younger sister who seemed to be stuck up in the past.

"Never," Sanjana answered without needing to think twice.

The wall of memory was filled with neatly arranged pictures of her dead grandparents, her dad, who passed away last year and her fiance who died in an accident three years ago.

Sarika was an insensitive bitch, who cannot understand that it is okay to grieve. And Sanjana was too obtuse, emotionally, to understand that one can move on.

This wall wasn't the only one in between the half sisters, though.

It was their mother and Sarika's husband. Both of them were scheming maniacs who just wanted business out of pleasure! They pawned over Sarika too much, and Sanjana couldn't help but pity her oblivious sister for it.

Mrs. Neha Dutta (it was Saha and Kapur before that, her father's surname was long forgotten for anybody's memory let alone the 26 year old Sanjana) was a conniving bitch. The woman was in her late fifties and was already planning to trade her third husband for a fresher one. She used men for their money, period. Mr. Arvind Saha, Sanjan's father was Swift enough to divorce Neha and move back to London with full custody. Sanjana pitied her sister for having a douchebag father who fled with a diamond mine heiress.

Her legacy was not something she was proud of. On the outside they were one of the most respectable business families in India but on the inside, they were rotten swines.

Neha, who had nothing to do with her second, now wants 'her' share on the Fashion Empire that rightfully belongs to Sanjana.

Mr. Tarun Gandhi, on the other hand, wants her to sell it (with fifty percent off, like it's some Diwali sale) to him. With a word to ear agreement that Sanjana could manage it from London.

"You want something? I'm making Mac and cheese."

"It's 3," Sarika asked looking at her watch.

"Lunch," Sanjana replied, pulling out some pasta and a pot to get them cooking, " I lost track of time."

"You're working too hard, these days. You're going to get dark circles, it's going to make your face look older," Sarika fussed, seating herself on the bar stool next to the island.

"I've already got those. I know how to use make up well, that's all!"

"So..." Sarika, stretched after sometime, getting right into business, as Sanjana had suspected before.

Pleasure, my foot!  She thought.

"Tarun was telling me that you were fighting against Shivaay Singh Oberoi. That he wants to buy the Empire," Sarika started only to be cut off.

"Look," Sanjana said, putting draining the water, " Shivaay Singh Oberoi is not getting a brick from my place. He's not going to buy it. And, I, certainly am not going to betray the thousand who work under me and leave them unemployed. I'm going to keep it."

She tossed the macaroni on to the pan with the cheesy sauce and let it cook. She poured to glasses of red wine and passed one to her calculating older sister who was contemplating for the right time to put forward her husband's new scheme.

"And as for Mr. Gandhi," Sanjana said, taking a sip, " I don't like any of his ideas."

This was hers. This was all on her. It was her legacy. She promised her dying father that she would come back to India and run this Empire, that she would not let down her employees.

"Everyone told me, if I had a boy, I wouldn't have to worry about the business. But I always knew, they were wrong!"

Her father's Farewell never stopped resounding in the back of her brain.

And Sarika knew when to shut up. They, her mother and 'better' half, always wanted her to be the scape goat. Sarika knew this would be her response, they barely shared a mother! She also knew because Sanjana might seem like a sweet, innocent angel on the outside, but she was after all her mother's daughter. She knew that she knew how to deal with the scheming. It takes one to know one.

Blinking away their thoughts, the sisters had a casual chat over the Italian dish and Sanjana excused herself to get ready for an event.

Sarika walked over to the wall of memories, she looked at her step-father (albeit, only for four years) and reminisced the presence of the great man.

She then frowned at Sanjana's memories with her dead fiance. Her usually emotionally devoid sister was in love with that man. Shame that he passed away and left an even more workaholic Sanjana. And shame, that nobody ever will come back to her life, they way he did.

"Where are you off to?" She asked as soon as she heard clicking heels. She turned to look at her dolled up little sister.

"It's the Oberoi Fashion Show," Sanjana answered.

"What? Don't you guys like hate each other?"

"Not publicly," she replied, nonchalantly, waving the invite in front of Sarika's face, "Mallika Tambe invited me."

"And, Shivaay," she shrugged pulling out the second from underneath the first, smirking at her surprised sister.

***

I'm so sorry! I've been super busy! And I konjum kinda procrastinated a bit as well!

How was this chapter? What's your opinion on Sanjana Saha?

Also, did y'all check out my other book?

There Was You, is available on my page! Go read and maybe follow! It's all free.

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Much love,
S.L

P.S. : Happy 500 episodes of Ishqbaaaz!❤❤❤❤❤
And Happy Women's Day! ;)