The Red Gown

By Moumita Boral

“Niya, will you please hear me out and give me just a chance to prove myself?” pleaded Aditya.

“What do you want to talk about? I am not running a justice club, so I will need some proof from you,” remarked Niya stoically. 

“Why are you talking like this? I know you are hurt, but at least listen to me, you left my office without informing, you don’t take my calls, your dad and your neighbours don’t allow me when I come to your building,” ranted Aditya. 

“My mom has just passed away, and I need to take care of my dad. The job in your company is very demanding, so I just left it. It is convenient for me to work at Anushka’s boutique on a project basis,” remarked Niya again stoically.

“Do you think I am going to buy your explanation?” said Aditya in an agitated tone.

“Whether you want to believe or not believe is none of my concern,” said Niya.

“Yes, why would it be of any concern to you?” said Aditya again in an agitated tone. “You just want to punish me. Agreed, I made a mistake, but at least give me a chance to make things right. I tried calling you so many times. When your mom passed away, your house was locked, you went to some ashram without informing me, and none of your friends or neighbours were willing to talk to me. Please, Niya, I beg of you, at least listen to me once,” sniffed Aditya. 

“And why did you return this Red Gown which I gifted you, through Shruti?”

“Employees like me cannot accept such expensive gifts from their bosses; it doesn’t look good,” said Niya again stoically.

“Oh really! You wore it that day, and now suddenly, because things have changed, I admit due to my mistake, everything for you changes – your feelings, your emotions, everything… right?” cried Aditya.

“I have got to go, dad is alone at home,” saying this Niya started walking towards the door. 

“Wait, you can’t go anywhere without listening to me,” said Aditya again in an agitated tone. Saying this, he pulled her hand; she tried to free herself, and he dragged her towards the wall. Niya stood with her back on the wall, near the door with a blank expression, with Aditya blocking her way out of the room. 

“Come on, look at me, look into my eyes,” said Aditya gently. “You are angry with me, right? Do one thing, slap me.” Saying this, Aditya took Niya’s hands and started slapping his face, using her hands.

“Enough,” exclaimed Niya angrily. “Everything is a bet and wager for you, no? Rich and influential men like you don’t like to lose and don’t like when people like me, from a modest background, try to build their lives on their own terms. You had a wager with your friends that you will be able to woo me. You won that wage, but you could not defile me that day, so your bet remained incomplete, right?” Blurted Niya angrily. 

“Do one thing; whatever you could not do the other day, do it now. Anyway, I am completely trapped here inside, and I am also aware that since I don’t have any power or connections, I won’t be able to do anything against you. I was trying to avoid it because my dad told me to treat this whole thing as a bad chapter of my life and just move on. I know I won’t be able to live after this, but at least your ego will be satisfied after winning this second wager with your friends.” Saying this, Niya took off her dupatta and threw it aside.

Aditya’s nostrils started to flutter. Tears started flowing down his eyes. He calmly picked up the dupatta and put it on Niya. “I know I don’t deserve any sympathy or forgiveness, and I know you won’t believe anything I say.  But yeah, I promise you one thing, and that is – you will be mine without any wager or bet, and you will realise one day that my love for you is forever and it will remain eternal till the end of my day. No one will come into my life ever, and that’s a promise,” said Aditya with an emotional smile.

Niya silently picked up her purse and, wrapping the dupatta properly around her, left the room with Aditya staring at her till she went out of sight. 

______________

Born into opulence, Aditya was the heir to Rūmā – a timeless textile heritage of India which made a significant contribution in demonstrating Indian ethnic fashion worldwide and was also known for its elegance in global luxury fashion. Rūmā had its flagship stores in Mumbai, Delhi, Paris, Milan, and New York. They would conduct fashion shows, and often celebrities would wear their designer outfits, often custom-made for red carpet events.

Aditya Malhotra was the son of Ashwin Malhotra, the head honcho of Rūmā, and Sanjana Malhotra, a respected educationist and philanthropist of The Ardent Foundation, who rose to prominence due to her efforts in enhancing higher education to a global level and helping the children of the less privileged of society to gain proper education and skillsets. Although Ashwin and Sanjana had a love marriage. He was impressed by her straightforwardness. But over the years, their marriage got strained because Sanjana was never truly accepted by her husband’s elite circle and emotionally drifted apart from Ashwin, who, although he was a principled man, became more stoic over the years and showed more warmth to his employees than to his own family.

The parents were together only because of Aditya. He was a prince equivalent – charismatic, flamboyant, and unapologetically indulgent. With a fleet of luxury cars, a passport stamped with exotic locales, and a social calendar brimming with champagne-soaked soirées, his life was like a never-ending celebration. Yet beneath the glittering surface was a young man shaped as much by emotional voids as by material abundance.

He assisted his father in the managing and expansion of Rūmā very diligently. He exhibited surprising competence, proving that beneath the designer suits and devil-may-care attitude is a sharp mind and a sense of responsibility. Sanjana, his mother, was his lifeline, and he would often assist her in philanthropic initiatives. Aditya’s display of indulgence and entitlement wasn’t born of arrogance alone. It was kind of a defense mechanism, a shield forged in the quiet wars of his childhood. 

The strained relationship between his parents became a cautionary tale to him, and he was just afraid of being hurt. His good heart peeks through in moments of generosity, loyalty to old friends, and the rare times he lets his guard down. But for now, he hides behind bravado, wealth, and a curated image of invincibility. His life became a carousel of fleeting romances and reckless wagers—he treats love like a game, often betting on how quickly he can charm his way into someone’s heart, only to walk away before dawn.

______________

Niya (Niya Sen Gupta) was the portrait of grace and determination. She was very good-looking and self-assured without ever demanding attention. Raised in a middle-class household with a cosmopolitan flair, her upbringing was shaped by the disciplined yet diverse world of army life. Her father, a high-ranking army doctor, was the embodiment of integrity and compassion, continuing his service to humanity through a modest private practice after retirement. Her mother, a devoted homemaker, was the emotional anchor of the family, though recent illness had cast a shadow of concern over their otherwise close-knit home.

Despite being an only child, she was remarkably grounded. Her independence wasn’t just a trait—it was a lifestyle. A passionate fashion designer by profession, she balanced creativity with responsibility, seamlessly weaving her career with her commitment to family and community. Each morning began with caring for her ailing mother, managing the household with precision and empathy, ensuring everything ran smoothly for those she loved.

Her heart was as beautiful as her designs. She was deeply involved in community service—organizing donations for orphanages, reading to elders in old age homes, and running errands for neighbours who couldn’t manage on their own. Her kindness wasn’t performative; it was instinctive. Whether it was helping children prepare for a musical event or picking up groceries for the elderly couple next door, she did it all with quiet sincerity.

Her closest allies were Mili and Ayan, two medical students who shared her passion for service. Together, they formed a trio of youthful energy and compassion, often spending weekends bringing joy to those society had forgotten. Ayan was also fond of Mili in a romantic way, but Mili, being of a boisterous nature, was quite oblivious of Ayan’s feelings.

Though she was an introvert, slow to warm up to strangers, those who knew her cherished her deeply. From the society watchman to the residents of her housing complex, she was adored—an unsung heroine of everyday life. Her self-respect was unwavering, her generosity boundless, and her presence a gentle force that uplifted everyone around her. 

______________

It was a moment of celebration for Niya when she got an offer letter from Rūmā for a fashion designer position. Her parents were happy, and so were her friends and her neighbours. She joined Rūmā and carved a niche for herself as a reliable employee with beautiful designing skills. She became known for her impeccable sense of style, a deep understanding of textile aesthetics, and for delivering high-quality work on tight deadlines without compromising on creativity.

She soon caught the attention of senior leadership and the head honcho of Rūmā, Ashwin Malhotra, and his son, Aditya. Ashwin started to admire her work, and Aditya was getting pulled towards her calm and composed demeanour. 

It was during an office party to celebrate the success of the new summer line of Rūmā that Aditya got attracted to Niya. She entered the room with quiet confidence, her presence felt before a word was spoken. Her outfit is a masterclass in understated elegance: a tailored navy midi dress with a structured silhouette that skimmed her figure without clinging. Her accessories were minimal yet thoughtful: pearl stud earrings and a slim silver watch.

Aditya couldn’t help but admire Niya that night. His friend Rohan, who was also one of the stakeholders of Rūmā, caught him staring at her. “She is not your type, dude; she is from the rare-breed class of women who don’t fall for flirts and charms, and she is an extremely independent woman with a lot of self-respect, typical middle-class,” exclaimed Rohan. 

Aditya started pondering. The first time there was a girl who was not falling for his charm or money. She was only interested in working and going home. Aditya tried to do some background research on her and found where she lives and information about her family and reputation in general. He found out that Niya was so independent that if she didn’t find any company to go for movies or something, she would go and watch alone, rather than waiting for anyone.

Once, after a few drinks with Rohan, he waged a bet that he would make Niya fall in love with him, and he started to work on his mission diligently. 

It was raining that day, and there was huge traffic. Aditya’s car was also moving at a snail’s pace. To cut it short, he went through a lane where LX Mall was there. While driving, he noticed Niya standing outside and looking at the glass window, where a designer red gown was displayed. It was one of the gowns that had a sleek and floor-length silhouette that hugs the body in all the right places. “But it’s unaffordable for me,” sighed Niya – “can’t waste 35,000 on one dress,” she thought. 

The honking of a car disturbed Niya’s reverie. She saw that Aditya was in the car. “What are you doing here in this weather?” he remarked. “I came to the mall for some window shopping; suddenly it started pouring,” she said. “Where are you going now?” asked Aditya. “At home,” replied Niya. “Get into the car; I will drop you,” said Aditya. “No, it is not required; my house is near, I will take an auto, and I will manage,” she said. “Look, this is not the weather for chit-chat outside. Hurry up and get into the car; people behind me have started honking,” said Aditya laughingly. Niya had no other option but to get into the car. 

While dropping Niya, Aditya noticed the surroundings she was living. Nestled in a quiet suburban pocket, this middle-class housing society exuded a graceful charm, balancing modesty with modernity. It was a well-planned apartment complex, consisting of 4 buildings – each rising to no more than four stories high, ensuring a cozy, low-density environment.  The buildings featured clean lines and neutral tones—soft beige, warm greys, and pastel accents— and most of the balconies were adorned with potted plants, wind chimes, and modest outdoor seating, giving each home a personal touch. There was a small but well-maintained community park sits at the heart of the society, with benches, a walking track, and a play area for children. There was a neighbourly warmth in the surroundings, and Aditya felt very jovial when he entered the society. 

“Please come in sir for a cup of tea,” said Niya. Her house was indeed near to the LX mall and Aditya thought that this was great opportunity for him to start wooing her. 

“Hi Niya Didi,” some kids of the neighbourhood, said to Niya. “Hi dear,” she said.

“Niya, where were you, shouldn’t have gone out in this weather,” said Iqbal uncle. “Some urgent stuff, I had to buy uncle,” exclaimed Niya.

“Sharma Aunty, your medicines,” exclaimed Niya. “God bless you dear,” as Sharma Aunty threw a bag with a rope hanging on her balcony to take the medicines.

“Niya Di, we have a fancy show at our school,” 8-year old Ankita said. “I will come on Saturday, and help you dear with it,” said Niya.

“Hi Niya,” “Namaste Uncle,” “Aunty how is your toothache now,” “Niya, I will scold you next time if you step out in such a weather” 

Everywhere such echoes were sounding. Aditya was surprised seeing the neighbourhood of Niya and, more than that, the kind of community outreach that she carried out in her neighbourhood. She used to reside in a 3-bhk of the B-block of her housing complex, but it seemed as if the whole complex was hers.

“Baba I am home,” said Niya. 

“Where were you Ma, we got so worried,” exclaimed Rajiv Sen Gupta, her father.

“I got stuck in the rain at the mall, partly my fault, I was checking on a beautiful Red Gown,” exclaimed Niya jovially. “By the way Baba, this is Aditya Sir of Rūmā where I work, and he dropped me home,” she remarked. 

“Most welcome sir, we are highly honoured that you came to our humble abode, and thanks for dropping my daughter home,” said Rajiv Sen Gupta.

“My pleasure sir, and please call me Aditya,” he said.

Niya’s living room was simple and compact but inviting. It had warm lighting from a ceiling fan with integrated lights and a small window that lets in natural sunlight during the day. A cushioned 3-seater sofa in earthy tones faces a modest TV unit. A couple of mismatched armchairs and a low coffee table with coasters and a few magazines completed the setup. Family photos lined the walls, alongside a framed calendar and a small wall clock. Aditya was amused seeing Niya’s childhood photos. A patterned rug added warmth to the tiled floor, and there was a corner shelf holding trophies and a lot of books. 

A scream broke the reverie of Aditya. From another room, Mili and Ayan came out and started chit-chatting with Niya. She introduced her friends to Aditya. Soon her mother, Nisha Sen Gupta, came to the living room. A sickly woman but who still exuded a lot of beauty and elegance in her demeanour. Despite being unwell, she made tea and brought a wide variety of sweets and snacks for everyone. “Why did you bother Ma, I would have made the tea,” said Niya. “It’s okay shona, I am feeling better today, Mili checked me properly,” Nisha said.

“Aunty, your pressure is still very high,” claimed Mili. Niya got worried listening to Mili’s comment. “Mili, you will get beatings from me if you talk of illness,” chided Nisha lightly. “Beta, please have tea,” she said to Aditya. 

“Ayan to you also, I have to invite you specially to have tea,” said Nisha. “No Aunty, where food and tea are concerned, I am never shy,” he said jokingly. “Don’t I know that?” said Mili. “Half of the time after classes, he will go to the canteen to check what is new over there to eat. I don’t know if he is trying to become a doctor or a caterer, the canteen manager will miss him, for sure, once we get our medical degree,” joked Mili. Everyone started laughing.

Aditya stood quietly, absorbing the unfamiliar simplicity around him. The place lacked grandeur or elegance, yet it stirred something profound within—a gentle warmth and a rare stillness that settled deep in his heart. He spent time conversing with Niya and her family, their kindness wrapping around him like a soft blanket. When the rain finally ceased, he stepped outside, feeling a quiet satisfaction at having begun his pursuit of Niya. Yet beneath that satisfaction, a flicker of guilt gnawed at him. He couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable truth: he was trying to win over a sincere, good-hearted girl under the pretence of a foolish bet with a friend.

“Wow, Niya, he’s incredibly handsome,” Mili gushed as Aditya stepped out of the house.

Niya chuckled, shaking her head. “There you go again. Some things never change,” she teased, while Ayan, standing quietly in the corner, offered a reluctant smile.

As the days rolled by after that evening, Aditya became a familiar presence at Niya’s home, always arriving with some excuse or another. At first, it was the “winter-line collection” that served as his reason, but soon his visits became more frequent and less about business. At the office, he found subtle ways to brighten Niya’s long workdays—sending her a warm cup of coffee or a box of chocolates when she was buried in tasks. Nearly every other day, he would orchestrate delays just long enough to offer her a ride home.

His charm extended beyond Niya. He began spending time with her parents, engaging them in easy conversation, and gradually won over the neighbours in her society. Before long, Aditya wasn’t just a visitor—he was becoming part of her world.

What began as a casual bet for Aditya slowly transformed into something far more profound. As days passed, he found himself genuinely drawn to Niya—someone refreshingly different from the women he'd known. Unlike those who were captivated by his wealth or looks, or the elite socialites who saw him as a stepping stone to climb higher, Niya was grounded, sincere, and quietly captivating. Their long hours working together forged a subtle bond, and Niya, despite her introverted nature, began to feel something too. Though her feelings remained tucked beneath a calm exterior, she gradually let her guard down, opening up to Aditya—not just as a colleague, but as a friend who mattered.

Aditya sensed a quiet transformation unfolding within him. There was a newfound lightness in his spirit, a pleasant shift he couldn’t quite explain. Niya’s gentle nature seemed to stir something deep inside—her kindness wasn’t performative, it was instinctive. He found himself drawn to her selfless acts, especially the way she cared for a hospitalized neighbour, staying by her side, fetching meals, and tirelessly running errands for medicines. It wasn’t just admiration anymore; it was respect that blossomed into something tenderer. Alongside this, Aditya began to cherish the warmth of Mili and Ayan’s company, gradually forging a meaningful bond with Ayan that felt like the beginning of a true friendship. 

Aditya had always kept his romantic relationships private, never introducing his girlfriends to his mother. But with Niya, he broke that pattern. When he brought her home, Sanjana was delighted to meet her. The two women chatted warmly until an unexpected crisis at the office—some misplaced design files—cut their conversation short. Chaos ensued, but amidst the turmoil, Sanjana noticed Niya’s calm and composed demeanour. Her ability to handle the situation gracefully left a strong impression on Sanjana, especially given her own middle-class upbringing, which made her admire Niya even more. That day held another quiet surprise: Sanjana found herself in a long, easy conversation with her husband Ashwin—something they hadn’t shared in what felt like ages. 

______________

“Aditya, are you serious about her?” Sanjana asked her son when she was free.

 “Mom, she is just a friend; nothing is going on,” claimed Aditya.

“Beta, if you’re truly serious about her, then I’m genuinely happy for you,” Sanjana said warmly, her voice tinged with concern. “But I want you to think through everything carefully—the pros and cons. Niya seems like a lovely girl. From what I gathered during our conversation, she’s incredibly humble and grounded. That’s a beautiful quality, but I hope it doesn’t create friction between you two.”

She paused, then added more thoughtfully, “You know, your father and I have lived through this. Differences in social class can quietly shape expectations and attitudes. The ego that comes with class—especially the one you and your father are accustomed to—can be a silent strain. Just keep that in mind.”

"Mom, like I said—she's just a friend," Aditya replied, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty. He chose not to bring up the bet he’d made with Rohan about Niya; deep down, he knew it had lost all meaning. What had started as a game was now something real—he was falling for her. And besides, he trusted Rohan to keep that secret buried. 

______________

It was Aditya’s birthday, and he was hosting a high-end party and came to Niya’s house to invite her parents.

“Beta, we won’t be able to come,” Niya’s father said gently. “We’re heading to an ashram that’s about two hours away from the city. I believe the peaceful and refreshing environment there will do well for your auntie’s health.”

“That’s alright, Uncle—I understand,” Aditya said warmly. Then, turning to Niya with a playful grin, he added, “I hope you’ll be there too.”

Niya gave a coy smile and nodded gently.

“Oh, and do call Ayan and Mili as well,” Aditya continued. “I’ve already spoken to them.”

Niya’s smile deepened. “If you’ve invited them,” she said softly, “they’ll definitely come.”

With a playful smile, Aditya said, “I’ve got something for you—and I’d love for you to wear it to the party.”

Niya’s eyes widened in surprise. “What is it?” she asked, curiosity dancing in her voice.

Without a word, Aditya handed her a delicate pink bag, its satin ribbons tied in a neat bow, hinting at something special inside. 

Niya tore open the parcel, her eyes widening as she gasped, “Oh my God!” Nestled inside was the red gown—the very one she had admired longingly at the mall days ago. Her fingers trembled as she lifted it from the box.

“Adi… I can’t accept this,” she said, her voice a mix of awe and protest. “It’s too much. You shouldn’t have. Please, take it back.”

But Adi stepped closer, his eyes soft with affection. “Niya, I bought it for you because I wanted to. You deserve it. Please… for me.”

She hesitated, the fabric shimmering in her hands. Then, with a quiet smile, she whispered, “Adi.”

His face lit up. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say my name like that,” he said, laughter dancing in his voice. 

______________

The day had finally arrived—Aditya’s birthday celebration. Set against the backdrop of a luxurious private villa, the venue was transformed into a visual masterpiece with bespoke lighting, lush floral installations, and immersive design elements that captivated every corner. Guests were welcomed in style, stepping onto a red carpet flanked by champagne towers and serenaded by live performers, from elegant violinists to mesmerizing fire dancers. The guest list was carefully curated, featuring Aditya’s closest friends alongside a select group of influencers, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and electric. 

Mili’s voice rose in a high-pitched squeak as she exclaimed, “Niya, I swear, I’ve only seen parties like this in the movies!”

Niya looked stunning in the Red Gown Aditya had gifted her. Her hair, swept up into a deliberately messy bun, framed her face with effortless charm. Long pearl earrings added a touch of elegance, completing a look that made her seem like the undisputed muse of the evening.

Yet beneath the graceful exterior, Niya felt deeply out of place. The weight of curious, lingering gazes unsettled her. She wasn’t accustomed to such lavish surroundings—the glittering chandeliers, the polished smiles, the air thick with pretence. To her, it all felt artificial, like a scene from a play in which she didn’t belong.

“Hi, you look beautiful,” Aditya said warmly as he approached Niya and wrapped her in a heartfelt embrace. The hug radiated genuine affection, and for a moment, Niya felt a rush of happiness. Yet, as she glanced around and caught the curious eyes of onlookers, a flicker of unease crept in, quietly tugging at the edges of her joy.

“Happy Birthday, Aditya,” she said softly. He turned to her with a warm, affectionate gaze and responded with a gentle smile. 

The party was alive with energy—laughter echoed through the hall, and couples swayed gracefully to the rhythm of the music. Niya stood at a distance, quietly observing the scene. Aditya mingled effortlessly among the guests, his charm on full display. Every so often, his eyes would flicker toward her, a fleeting glance that said more than words.

Suddenly, a voice rang out behind Niya, smooth and laced with intrigue: “So, you’re the flavour of the season.” She turned to find a stunning woman before her—radiant and unmistakably high society. Diamonds sparkled at her neck and wrists, and her luxurious Indo-Western designer ensemble shimmered under the lights, exuding elegance and power.

“I am sorry what”? Exclaimed Niya.

The woman burst into laughter, her amusement echoing through the room. “Ah, so the illustrious Aditya Malhotra fancied a taste of something new—served with a generous side of middle-class charm,” she quipped, repeating herself with theatrical flair. Mili and Ayan exchanged glances, their eyes silently reacting to the jab.

“Oh darling, you truly believe Aditya is in love with you? What makes you think his heart belongs to anyone? He’s the most notorious Casanova in town—his affections change with the wind. Trust me, I was once the flavour of the week myself. He even boasted to his friends that he could charm working women like you, just for sport. Oh, sweet girl…” With that, she took a slow sip of champagne, her eyes gleaming with knowing mischief, and left her companion frozen in stunned silence.

"What is she even talking about, Niya? I swear she's bluffing. You know how these high-society women can be," Mili exclaimed, her voice laced with suspicion.

"Mili, please wait. I need to talk to Aditya," Niya said, before leaving her and Ayan to speak with him. 

Niya wove her way through the crowded party, scanning the room for Aditya. The far end of the hall pulsed with raucous laughter and the clink of liquor glasses. There, she spotted him—tense and flustered—trying to rein in Rohan, who was clearly drunk and completely unhinged.

Rohan threw an arm around Aditya and bellowed, “This guy right here—my best buddy Aditya—he always gets what he wants! He said he’d hook up with that girl from his office, and guess what? He did it! Hooray!” He raised his drink in a sloppy toast. “You won the bet, man. Damn it, now I owe you whatever you ask for!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Rohan burst into wild, uncontrollable laughter, his voice echoing above the music and chatter.

“Rohan, please stop—I’m begging you, be quiet,” Aditya pleaded, his voice strained with urgency. He reached out to silence Rohan, who was gleefully shouting, “Adi won the bet! Adi won the bet!” over and over again. But his efforts were futile. Laughter erupted around them as a group of influencers nearby eagerly captured the chaos, their phones held high to record this dramatic moment for social media.

Just as Aditya tried to rein in the situation, his gaze locked onto a figure across the room. His breath caught. It was Niya—standing still, watching.

"Rohan, you pig!" Aditya shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he delivered a sharp slap across Rohan’s face. Chaos erupted instantly. A scuffle broke out, with people rushing in to separate the two. On one side, influencers had their phones out, eagerly capturing every second for their feeds. On the other, several intoxicated partygoers laughed uncontrollably, muttering incoherent nonsense. In the midst of the uproar, Rohan retaliated—striking Aditya on the head. Aditya collapsed to the floor, dazed and motionless.

______________

Somehow the evening was a cursed one for Niya. Before she could even lament about what happened in the party, a news came from her dad that Niya’s mom got a cardiac arrest in the ashram and passed away. She cried vociferously. Mili and Ayan and her neighbours helped her get into a car to go to the Ashram for her mother’s funeral. 

"Don’t worry, my child. We won’t let that man step foot in this society, nor will he ever know where you are. You focus on completing the funeral rites. Your mother is always with you—in spirit and in strength," said Iqbal Uncle gently.

Niya wept copiously with her father at her mother’s funeral in the ashram. She found in the news, someone wrote that a “Tycoon wages a bet to woo a middle-class girl,” she felt as if thousand poisonous snakes bit her at the same time.

Without informing anyone, Niya abruptly resigned from her job. She asked her colleague Shruti to hand over all her documents to the HR department at Rūmā. Then, seeking solace, she retreated to an Ashram with her father, where she remained for two months.

The devastating loss of her mother coupled with Aditya’s betrayal had left her emotionally shattered. She needed time away—to heal, to reflect, to rediscover herself. Thankfully, her neighbours, along with Mili and Ayan, respected her need for privacy and didn’t disclose her whereabouts to Aditya.

During this period, Niya switched off her mobile phone and stayed disconnected from the outside world. Her only link to Mili was through the Ashram’s landline, a quiet lifeline in her journey toward renewal.

“Niya, Aditya’s been pestering me nonstop about where you are. I’ve tried ignoring him, but he just won’t let up,” Mili said during their conversation at the Ashram. “And that fool Ayan—he’s convinced he’s feeling real remorse. I told him to keep quiet,” she added with a sigh.

"I'd rather not talk about it, Mili," Niya said quietly. "But hey, I’ve started working on a project at Anushka’s boutique. There’s a small fashion conference I need to attend this Wednesday at the Gateway Continental."

"That’s wonderful!" Mili replied with a smile. "I really can’t wait to see you again."

After overhearing Mili and Niya’s chat, Ayan quickly relayed the news to Aditya: Niya was heading to a conference at the Gateway Continental. With urgency in his voice, Ayan exclaimed, “Bro, you better don’t tell Mili about this! If I keep playing Cupid for you, my own love story’s going to crash and burn!”

“Thanks Ayan,” said Aditya.

______________

“Niya, will you please hear me out and give me just a chance to prove myself?” pleaded Aditya.

______________

Aditya was truly consumed by remorse. Though Niya refused to speak to him, he quietly remained close, hoping his presence might bridge the silence. He began spending more time with his mother, joining her in philanthropic endeavours that brought a sense of purpose and humility. In quiet acts of kindness, he assisted Niya’s neighbours with errands, never seeking recognition.

Determined to change, Aditya severed all ties with his high-society circle, distancing himself from the superficial world that once defined him. He even lent a hand to Ayan, helping him win over Mili, showing a selflessness that surprised those around him. 

Throughout this transformation, Niya kept her distance. Her expression remained stoic, yet beneath that calm exterior, she couldn’t help but notice the profound changes in him. Aditya’s journey of redemption extended to his family—he persuaded his father, Ashwin Malhotra, to reconcile with his mother, arguing that the glitter of elite society only masked deep loneliness.

Moved by his son’s sincerity, Ashwin sold half his company shares and chose to run a modest apparel store. The simplicity brought him clarity and peace, and his relationship with both his wife and son flourished in ways it never had before.

"Aditya frequently sent Niya flowers and small tokens of affection, which she consistently declined—yet he never stopped trying."

______________

One afternoon, Ashwin and Sanjana Malhotra arrived at Niya’s home, their expressions heavy with concern.

“Niya,” Sanjana began gently, her voice trembling, “I know my son made a terrible mistake. I’m not asking you to forget it. But please… consider giving him a chance. He’s truly remorseful. He barely speaks anymore, skips meals, and spends hours lost in thought. It’s breaking my heart.”

Ashwin added, “He’s throwing himself into every bit of work he can find—like he’s trying to atone for everything at once. I worry it’s taking a toll on his health.” Turning to Niya’s father, he pleaded, “Rajeev Ji, please help her see reason.”

Rajeev placed a comforting hand on Niya’s shoulder. “Shona, sometimes people do change. Your mother would’ve said the same. Maybe it’s time to let go of the past.”

Ashwin looked at Niya with warmth in his eyes. “You’ll be the daughter we never had, beta.”

Niya sat silently, eyes brimming with tears, staring at the floor—her heart torn, unsure of what to say.

______________

The room was bathed in a soft, amber glow, shadows dancing gently along the walls as a mellow tune played in the background. Aditya sat alone on the couch, eyes closed, his face etched with sorrow and regret.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with bright light.

“Arin, I told you not to turn on the light,” he muttered, shielding his eyes.

“It’s not Arin. It’s me.”

Aditya’s eyes snapped open. Standing before him was Niya, draped in the same crimson gown he had once gifted her—a memory stitched into every fold.

“Niya…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can you ever forgive me?”

She stepped forward and gently placed a finger on his lips. Their eyes locked—an unspoken conversation passing between them—before they fell into a tight embrace, as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

“You know,” Aditya said softly, a spark returning to his eyes, “you look breathtaking in that gown.

The red gown—once the symbol of their bond, then the wedge that drove them apart—now shimmered in the light, a radiant emblem of their reunion. 

By Moumita Boral