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Pratiksha's POV

The click of my shoes echoed in the quiet corridor as I stalled at the threshold of the chairman’s office with the letter I was told to hand over myself in my hand.

While I was egging on a silent war between the mind and heart in my personal life, I couldn’t have hated the HR head more than I did right now.

Of all the times to be so flipping obdurate, they had to pick now, especially when I’m all over the place. It wasn’t like me quitting was some whimsical decision. I hadn’t woken up this morning and thought to have fun by quitting the job and turning my life upside down. My decision had been simmering for months, a slow burn of instigation that had finally reached its boiling point.

But no, apparently, my inclination was just “a stupid move” to them. As if they had any clue about what I was dealing with. They only saw the mask I wore—the assistant who somehow managed to stay afloat with their alien CEO.

They didn’t see the draining exhaustion of holding everything together every other instance or the emotional devastation of working with someone who had once been my everything but now felt worse than a stranger. Of course, my colleagues didn’t get it. To them, I was just another employee who was now causing a headache by leaving abruptly. Yeah, well, try living inside my head for a day, dealing with the mess that both my personal and professional life had become. Then they’d know what a real headache felt like.

Facing the chairman was another challenge I could barely stomach.

This wasn’t just any boss; he was the formidable Mr. Swapan Shrivastava. The man who believed in me, who hired me right out of college, was driven by nothing but ambition and a mind full of dreams. And now, I had to walk in and tell him I was done with the job he meticulously headhunted me for.

I could almost feel my pulse pounding in my ears right now as I knocked on the door and pushed it ajar with my perspiring hands.

I greeted him, trying to sound confident, though I knew my voice probably betrayed just how jittery I was. He was my mentor and also my father-in-law, though the future of that relationship felt as uncertain as everything else in my life right now.

He was the first person I'd told about my resignation when I’d sent that email days ago. And now, seeing him, I realized just how long it had taken for him to process it since he was waiting to hear it from me directly, to gauge my reasons and possibly, my resolve to part ways with his son professionally.

“Uh, so…” I started, feeling my throat go dry. “I wanted to talk to you about my resignation. I’ve made up my mind, and I’m ready to move on.” Yup, I am.

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised slightly. “Really? You’re sure about this?”

I nodded, my hands gripping the piece of paper like it was a lifeline. “Yeah. It’s what I need to do.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

The chairman’s gaze didn’t waver, and I could see he was trying to read between the lines. Does he see through me? I wondered, feeling a pang of unease.
Can he tell I’m not entirely convinced by my face? Perhaps that’s it, I thought, or maybe I’m just scared of the unknown and using this resignation as a shield to avoid succumbing to the tantalizing hope that’s glaring at me so invitingly.

“Well,” He voiced after a moment, his tone shifting to one of understanding, “If you’re sure this is what you need, then I respect your decision. But before you make it final, let’s talk about why you’re feeling this way. There’s more to this than just leaving a job, isn’t there?” His words were like a gentle prodding, nudging me to confront the tangled mess of my emotions. “This has to do with my son, doesn’t it?” His question was gentle, almost empathetic, yet it landed with devastating force.

“Take a seat, Pratiksha.” He motioned, and I slumped into the seat across from him at the request, but the plush padding under me failed to ease my anxiety.

“Beta, I’ve watched you closely for a long while now. You’re a remarkable human more than anything, first of all, and your determination to stick with Sahil is commendable.”

It was, I mean, kind of.

“I won’t sugarcoat it—he’s been a real nightmare since Aavya passed away.” His expression grew heavy as he spoke of the loss that still weighed on the Shrivastava family. “You’ve dealt both with him and the children that came as a package with this arrangement—”

“Nyesa and Neel have been my greatest treasures, sir. I love them. There isn’t a part of me that could ever regret having them.” My heart swelled as I spoke about them. They’ve given me the beautiful gift of motherhood. They’ve been my little constants, my bundle of joy amidst all the chaos. “Every day, they made me stronger, and while I can’t speak for everything else, that’s the purest joy I experienced while being Sahil’s—” My voice cracked, and my lips quivered as I tried to articulate it. The words felt lodged in my throat, bound with all the hurt and confusion I had been harboring.

“Wife.” The chairman’s old eyes grew tender as he completed the reality I couldn’t voice myself. “Yes, I’ve known for a while now…” He revealed, “that you two are married and the way it came to be.”

He knew? He knew.

Oh God! Who else knew?

I exhaled; keeping quiet isn’t an option anymore, is it?

Besides, deep down, a part of me was yearning to talk, to share this torment with someone who might actually understand me. Discussing this with my parents was off the table, so who else could I turn to but his father? He knew Sahi” in ways I never could, especially now that my relationship with his son had become…well, complicated.

“Rest assured, my child, I’m not here to judge you. Not for the past or about your choices today, but I am quite disappointed in Sahil’s actions.” Mr. Shrivastava said, his voice taking on a fatherly tone.

I nodded, fully aware that he meant what he said.

Despite being Sahil’s father, he had always been fair, and everything told me he would continue to be, even if I was just his son’s secret wife who’s now the punchline of a bad joke. Still, it didn’t make this conversation any easier.

I sucked in a breath, gathering my thoughts before they burst out badly.

“Sahil…he’s making an effort to show he cares—” I started, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, “but it’s so damn confusing because…this marriage we’re in is hanging by a thread. And I’m scared to hope, to believe that something could finally change.” Or maybe it had changed already, and I never noticed in my grief.

“I closed myself off, you know, thinking it would help me stop feeling anything for him. But then…I see him trying so hard, being so impalpably patient even when I’ve not given him an ounce back like I used to, and after everything that’s gone down, it’s like…I’m stranded at a crossroads.”

He would check up on me, asking if I had eaten or if I was feeling okay—things he never bothered with before. The way Sahil would bring me my favorite comfort foods, without even asking what I wanted. He made sure everything around me was taken care of, from the smallest details to the bigger things that he used to be cold about. Surprisingly, I hadn’t even known that I loved flowers until he started bringing them for me every day, without fail. At first, I thought it was just guilt, or maybe he was doing it out of some sense of duty because I was leaving. But then, it started to feel…real. Genuine.

And that was what scared me the most. I was scared that he was becoming the man I had always imagined and seamlessly crossing the line I had set. Now, I was trapped in this limbo, torn between the love that wouldn’t die and the pain that had made me withdraw in the first place, and the truth of my confession crashed over me like a tidal wave.

“Should I give him another chance?” The question came out before I could stop it, raw and vulnerable, and I hated how small my voice sounded, like I was a young girl again, asking for guidance.

“I’m not going to give you a handwritten solution to this. You alone must choose what’s best for yourself in this situation.” He regarded me with a look of compassion that grounded me. “But whatever you choose,” he added softly, “don’t forget your worth in all this.”

“I had to hear that.” I admitted it, primarily to myself. “But what if my heart still holds on to him, despite the damage he’s inflicted?” The words tumbled out, a confession I hadn’t allowed myself to fully acknowledge until now.

I still love Sahil, don’t I?

I never stopped, despite everything.

“If you truly care about him or whatever he has to offer after everything that he fucked up for both of you…” A warm smile curved his lips as he looked at me. “Perhaps it’s worth giving both that fool and yourself another chance. My son is no longer the same person who hurt you because of his unresolved turmoil—we both know that.” The words reached deep into my chest, wrapping the doubts and sorrow like a healing balm. “He’s working hard to be better, to do what’s right for both of you. And as his father, I promise that he’s committed to becoming someone deserving of you, beta.”

“Do you believe this is worth it?”

“I do.” My father-in-law affirmed, his eyes alight with reassurance. “Alongside Sahil, nobody in the family wants to part with a jewel like you, dear. Take your time and just know that whatever you decide…” I stared in astonishment, a conundrum of relief, incredulity, and an indescribable feeling all colliding. “We Shrivastavas will always consider ourselves incredibly lucky to have you among us.”

“I do hold to that belief, sir.”

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The clinking of cutlery against plates, the low hum of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the restaurant as I walked in. My colleagues—well, soon-to-be-former colleagues—had gone all out for my farewell dinner.

A part of me felt guilty for letting them do this when I was the one leaving them behind, but another part, the more exhausted, emotionally drained part, just wanted to bask in this moment before everything changed.

Meera, who was going to fill my job hereafter, spotted me first and immediately broke into a grin. “Look who finally decided to show up! Thought you were going to ghost us.”

I rolled my eyes, sliding into the seat next to her. “The idea wasn’t bad, but I figured I owed you guys a goodbye at the very least.”

“Oh, so this is a goodbye?” Ajay, our floor’s resident joker, leaned in, wiggling his brows. “You’re not going to come running back in two weeks after realizing life outside this hellhole is boring?”

I let out a dry laugh when one of them answered for me, “Oh please, she’d rather spend her days picking up a new hobby—like knitting or staring at a wall—than dealing with Mr. Shrivastava’s impossible demands again.”

The HR who made my resignation process hell even had the audacity to say, “We’re really going to miss you, Pratiksha. You were an asset to the company.”

I wanted to laugh. Asset? Right, because nothing says ‘we appreciate you’ like making someone jump through hoops just to quit.

Ajay cleared his throat. “Jokes aside, dude, work’s going to suck without you. Who else is going to keep the boss from scaring the interns to death?”

My junior clapped her hands, breaking the moment. “Okay, before the woman starts crying and ruins her makeup, let’s focus on the important stuff—cake!”

I chuckled as the waiter brought out a cake with ‘Goodbye, Pratiksha! We’ll miss you!’ written in icing.

I picked up the knife cutting into the cake, and the first piece turned out to be mine, obviously, while the rest was passed around until a very deliberate ahem cut through the air, making the whole room go still.

Everyone around me turned into statues, and even I blinked twice just to make sure my imagination wasn’t playing tricks on me because standing right there, looking every bit like the uninvited guest at a forlorn party he had no business attending, was Sahil himself.

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Lots of Love,

ANKITA