Debt with Interest

Siara stood frozen, her pulse ringing in her ears as the waiter’s words sank in.

"Ma’am, Vardhan sir aapko bacha rahe the. Agar main gir jata, toh pura tray aapke upar girta. Shukar hai ek staff member ne mujhe sambhal liya, warna shayad aapko chot bhi lag sakti thi." (Ma’am, Vardhan sir was saving you. If I had fallen, the whole tray would have landed on you. Luckily, a staff member held me in time, or else you could have gotten hurt.)

Her heart sank. She blinked, letting his words settle fully.

She had been so quick to react, so sure that he was like the men she had fought her whole life, that she hadn’t even thought before slapping him.

Biting her lip, she exhaled, frustration clawing at her insides.

"Kya problem hai meri? Pura hall dekh raha tha, media cameras on the spot the, aur maine bina soche kisi ko thappad maar diya." (What is my problem? The whole hall was watching, media cameras were on the spot, and I slapped someone without even thinking.)

A slow, dreadful realization settled in.

Siara, you’re the CEO of Rajawat Industries now. You’re not just a daughter anymore. Every action you take reflects on your company, your father’s legacy.

She rubbed her temples before finally facepalming herself, mentally scolding herself.

"Brilliant, Siara. Ek toh thappad maara, upar se media ka next headline bhi bann gaye. Waah." (Brilliant, Siara. Not only did you slap him, but you also became the next media headline. Wow.)

Taking a deep breath, she turned toward Ekansh.

His posture was relaxed, but his eyes? They were sharp, calculating, and utterly unreadable.

Swallowing her pride, she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.

"Mujhse galti hui, mujhe aap par haath nahi uthana chahiye tha. I sincerely apologise for that Mr. Vardhan. I overreacted. And I am really very sorry" (I made a mistake, Mr. Vardhan. I overreacted.)

Ekansh raised an eyebrow, and a slow, mocking smirk played on his lips.

"Ab tum se seedha aap par aagayi?" he mused, amusement dripping from his tone. (Oh, so now it's aap instead of tum?)

Siara clenched her jaw. Of course he wouldn’t make this easy.

"Look, main—" she began, trying to maintain her composure.

"Nahi, nahi, please continue, Ms. Rajawat." His voice was laced with sarcasm. "Mujhe toh sach mein jaan'na hai ki tumhari extraordinary thinking kya keh rahi thi jab tumne decide kiya ki ek public event mein bina kisi baat ke ek aadmi ko thappad maarna ek brilliant idea hoga." (No, no, please continue, Ms. Rajawat. I really want to know what your extraordinary thinking was when you decided that slapping a man in a public event, without any reason, was a brilliant idea.)

Siara inhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Mujhse galti hui, Mr. Vardhan. Maine maafi maang li." (I made a mistake, Mr. Vardhan. I’ve apologized.)

"Maafi?" he scoffed. "Bas ek sorry keh diya aur baat khatam? Kitna asaan hai na? Rajawat hona hi shayad yeh seekhata hai—bina soche-samjhe kuch bhi karna aur jab galti pakdi jaye toh ek sorry bol ke aage badh jaana." (Just a sorry and everything is over? How easy, right? Maybe being a Rajawat teaches you this—acting without thinking, and when caught, just saying sorry and moving on.)

Her fingers curled into fists.

"Maine kaha na, galti hui hai," she repeated, struggling to keep her voice steady. (I already said I was wrong.)

"Galti? Ms. Rajawat, yeh ek galti nahi thi. Yeh ek tamasha tha jo tumne puri duniya ke saamne khada kiya." His tone darkened. (Mistake? Ms. Rajawat, this wasn’t just a mistake. It was a spectacle you created in front of the entire world.)

Siara kept quiet. She had wronged him, and she deserved this. But then—

"Tumne kya samjha tha, mai bhi un cheap aur ghatiya aadmiyon mai se ek hu?" His voice was ice-cold, his eyes flashing with something dark. "Ameer baap ki bigdi aulade?" (Did you think I was one of those cheap and disgusting men? A spoiled brat of a rich father?)

Siara stilled.

Ekansh took a step forward, his voice calm yet cutting.

"Ek baat samajh lijiye, Ms. Rajawat—Ekansh Vardhan un logon mein se nahi hai jo bina soche koi bhi tamasha khada karne dein." (Understand one thing, Ms. Rajawat—Ekansh Vardhan is not one of those people who will let anyone create a spectacle without consequences.)

Siara opened her mouth, but he wasn’t done.

"Jo log mujhe jaante hai, woh jaante hai ki main har cheez ka hisaab rakhta hoon. Aur tumne jo kiya hai, uska bhi pura hisaab diya jayega." (The people who know me, know that I keep track of everything. And what you did, will be accounted for as well.)

"Agar aapko mujhse problem hai, toh mujhe jitna chahe sunayiye. Lekin mere parivaar ko beech mein mat laiye." she said sharply, trying to maintain control. (If you have a problem with me, say whatever you want to me. But don’t bring my family into this.)

Ekansh smirked.

"Kyun? Sahi toh keh raha hoon. Rajawat naam ka matlab hi hai ego, impulsiveness aur privilege." His tone was casual, but the insult in his words was razor-sharp. (Why? I’m just stating the truth. The name Rajawat itself means ego, impulsiveness, and privilege.)

Her fingers curled tighter, nails digging into her palm.

"Aap had paar kar rahe hai, Mr. Vardhan." Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the warning in it. (You are crossing the limit, Mr. Vardhan.)

Ekansh chuckled darkly.

"Waise, tumhe yeh kehna chahiye tha jab tumne bina soche mujhe thappad maara tha." His voice was mocking, filled with amusement. (By the way, you should have said this when you slapped me without thinking.)

Siara sucked in a breath, forcing herself to hold back the words threatening to spill.

Ekansh observed her reaction, his smirk never fading.

"Vardhans kisi ka ehsaan nahi rakhte, Ms. Rajawat. Especially Ekansh Vardhan." He took a step back, his voice smooth yet laced with finality. "Tumhe iski bharpayi karni hogi—saath mein interest bhi lagega." (Vardhans never keep anyone’s favor, Ms. Rajawat. Especially Ekansh Vardhan. You will repay this… with interest.)

Siara glared at him, but before she could say anything, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"Aur tumhe nahi pata, Ms. Rajawat," his smirk widened, "par tumne jo kiya hai, uske liye kimat sirf paise se nahi chukani padegi." (And you don’t know yet, Ms. Rajawat, but for what you’ve done, the price won’t just be paid with money.)

Her breath hitched.

Before she could ask what he meant, he turned on his hee

l and walked away, leaving behind a storm of questions.

And an unsettling sense of doom.