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Shivansh handled the dark green Bentley with effortless control, his hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel.
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‎ Dressed in a pristine white shirt and blue trousers, with dark sunglasses shielding his eyes, his sculpted features carried a distant, magnetic chill. A few loose strands escaped the neat bun tied at the back of his head, framing his face in a way that felt entirely unstudied yet effortlessly captivating.
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‎With a low, synchronized purr, the luxury car glided to a halt right in front of the dhaba.
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‎The exact same spot where, just two weeks ago, his mind had completely unraveled.
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‎He turned his head toward the dhaba, a faint flicker of recognition cutting through the shadow of his sunglasses for a mere second before it vanished.
‎Stepping out of the Bentley, he booked the exact same treehouse cabin. He made his way up the weathered wooden stairs to the first floor, a space completely open to the elements, sheltered only by a rustic wooden canopy and bordered by a sturdy bamboo railing.
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‎He claimed the same seat he had occupied two weeks ago, finally sliding the sunglasses off to reveal a pair of intense, dark brown eyes.
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‎instinctively, his gaze drifted toward the massive tree trunk where he had first spotted her name.
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‎The poster was still there, weathered but legible,
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‎KAYA NGO: Sanctuary for Unemployed and Abandoned Women.
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‎His eyes remained glued to the poster, tracking the letters as if trying to decode a secret.
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‎When the waiter approached the table to take his order, Shivansh didn't bother turning around.
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‎"Kaya NGO," he just murmured. His voice carried a sudden, heavy depth that made the waiter narrow his eyes in confusion.
‎"Sorry, sir?" the waiter asked, leaning in slightly.
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‎Slowly, Shivansh turned his head, he lifted his dark, desolate eyes to meet the waiter's gaze. "Where is this...Kaya NGO situated?"
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‎When he spoke her name, it was with an agonizing tenderness like a fragile drop of mist he was terrified of losing to the vast, deserted expanse of his own existence.
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‎The waiter offered a polite, practiced smile. "It's just ahead from here, sir. About a kilometer down the road, I think."
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‎Shivansh gave a curt nod.
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‎Almost instantly, his gaze snapped back to the poster, pulled by an invisible, magnetic force he couldn't or wouldn't resist.
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‎Feeling the heavy weight of the silence, the waiter forced a professional, customer-service smile. "Your order, sir?"
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‎Shivansh didn't even bother to turn his neck. "bas chai ," he said, his tone impossibly distant.
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‎The waiter stared at him in disbelief.
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‎This man had booked an entire private cabin just to order a single cup of tea? He could have easily had that in the open courtyard downstairs.
What a fool, the waiter thought, a quiet smirk crossing his mind.
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‎Still, keeping his thoughts to himself, he maintained his polite facade. "Anything else, sir?"
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‎This time, Shivansh didn't give even a flicker of movement. "No," came the hollow reply.
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‎The waiter offered a brief bow and walked away, his footsteps fading as he left the perimeter of the elevated cabin.
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‎Left entirely alone, Shivansh kept his eyes anchored to the spot, his gaze continuously drinking in her name.
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‎Shivansh stared fixedly at the name.
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‎The waiter returned, quietly setting a fresh cup down before melting back into the background.
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‎Turning his gaze to the rising curls of steam, Shivansh lifted the cup and took a tentative sip, a sharp click escaped his tongue...a quiet, instinctive reaction.
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‎He shook his head slowly, he had already guessed it would taste like this, but he kept his thoughts to himself, with no other real choices left, he simply kept drinking.
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‎Once he finished the last drop, he stood up and walked out, settling his bill at the counter, he got into his car, started the engine, and drove toward the one destination that had brought him all this way.
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‎Kaya.
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‎After a brief five-minute drive, he arrived at his destination.
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‎A large, prominent signboard greeted him, adorned with a vibrant painting of girls and women. The entire compound was bathed in natural serenity, shaded by lush, mature trees, even the main entrance archway was intricately carved from massive tree trunks, giving the place an air of organic simplicity.
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‎Shivansh stepped out of the car, his eyes locked onto the name again.
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‎It was the exact same name that had dragged him three hundred and fifty kilometers away from Bengaluru, just a glance at it made him feel like he was drowning helplessly, mercilessly undertow that both pulled him in and pushed him away.
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‎Steeling himself, he walked toward the entrance.
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‎Inside a small guard cabin, a watchman in his fifties sat with rigid, military-stiff posture.
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‎The man took in Shivansh's polished car and commanding presence, his strict demeanor instantly softened into a warm smile. "Kya kaam hai, sahab?"
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‎(How can I help you, sir?)
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‎Shivansh leaned slightly toward the window slot, peering at the watchman from behind his dark sunglasses, he replied simply, "I want to visit the NGO."
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‎"Sure....please fill out the visitor's log first, and then you can wear this badge to enter the premises," the watchman said, passing a register through the window.
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‎Shivansh offered a quiet hum of agreement, he filled out the log, neatly printing his name, contact number, address, and signature. Once he handed it back, the watchman gave him a visitor's badge, he pinned it to his shirt and stepped through the large metal gates.
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‎The pathway ahead was laid with smooth rocks and pebbles, meticulously arranged to mimic the rolling waves of the sea. Flanking the path, rows of ancient trees formed a dense, natural boundary.
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‎As he walked deeper into the estate, his eyes landed on the main building, it was a well-maintained, grand structure painted in warm tones of cream and brown, proudly bearing the name Kaya NGO.
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‎Life vibrated all around him, women and girls, some clearly residents, others volunteers strolled through the grounds, their faces relaxed and wearing easy smiles.
‎Under a large open shed, a medical camp seemed to be underway, with volunteers in matching white T-shirts bustling back and forth.
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‎The laughter echoing through the air was so vibrant, the atmosphere so soothing, that Shivansh felt an unexpected pause echo through his entire life.
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‎It was a sudden, jarring break he hadn't realized he needed and certainly one he had never taken. For a brief second, his chest loosened, allowing him to draw a long, overdue breath of relief.
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‎He simply stood there, frozen in place, watching the world move without him.
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‎"Can I help you with something, sir?"
‎The soft, polite voice broke his reverie. Shivansh's gaze drifted to a woman in her early fifties who had approached him, a welcoming smile on her face.
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‎Pulling himself back together, he looked at her and repeated the words that brought him here. "I want to visit the NGO."
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‎"Sure, sir, please come with me," she said, gesturing toward the pathway ahead.
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‎He followed her toward the large buildings, she explained that this section served as a residential wing for the women, featuring well-designed, independent living spaces equipped with modern amenities.
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‎Moving further into the campus, they passed a bustling activity center.
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‎Inside, women were actively working on homemade goods, crafting, spices, papads, making pottery, designing jewelry, and weaving vibrant sarees.
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‎Next, they approached a school building. A crowd of children was just spilling out into the courtyard, chatting loudly, the afternoon was already bleeding into the evening, and school was letting out for the day.
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‎As teachers began locking up the classrooms, the woman turned to him. "This is the school we run through the NGO," she explained. "And just ahead is our dispensary, which operates entirely with the help of medical volunteers.
‎Would you like to take a look?"
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‎Shivansh offered a quiet nod.
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‎They walked over to a small, modest clinic, while it wasn't large, it was perfectly organized, stocked systematically with every essential medical supply needed.
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‎Looking around, Shivansh found himself genuinely impressed, the sheer efficiency, structure, and care built into every corner of the organization were undeniable.
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‎A rare, faint smile touched his lips. He turned back to his guide and asked the question that had been lingering in his mind. "Who runs this NGO?"
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‎The woman's smile softened even further, filled with immense respect. "Snehal Sabarwal," she replied proudly. "She is a doctor, and also runs a pharmaceutical company."
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‎Shivansh nodded slowly. "I want to make a donation to this NGO."
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‎The woman gave a gentle, knowing smile. "Ma'am is actually on the premises today. You can speak to her about it directly. Though, I should warn you, she usually turns down outside donations. She always says she doesn't want to burden others to fund her own vision."
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‎Shivansh narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of resolve crossing his face. "But I am donating out of my own free will and happiness. There is no burden in that."
‎"Which is exactly why I think you should speak with her," the woman replied warmly. "Since it's the weekend, she's already here."
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‎"Alright," Shivansh agreed, adjusting his sunglasses. "Let's go meet her."
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‎The woman chuckled lightly at his persistence and led the way back down the pathway, moving past the school and back toward the medical camp.
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‎They reached a private office building situated near the camp area. The woman showed him inside, guiding him to a seat before leaving to inform Snehal Sabarwal about the new visitor.
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‎Left alone, Shivansh settled into the cushioned couch and let his eyes roam over the space. The office interior was designed entirely in crisp white and soft powder blue, a deliberate palette that instantly evoked a sense of clarity, trust, and absolute calm.
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‎The atmosphere in the room felt so pure that, for the first time in a very long time, he felt a genuine ease settle over his mind and heart.
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‎In the center of the office stood a polished white desk.
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‎It was neatly arranged with a small calendar, a pen stand, a few miniature flower pots, a stack of clean files and a sleek nameplate that read, Dr. Snehal Sabarwal.
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‎The faint sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the corridor. Shivansh turned his head toward the entrance just as a woman walked in. Elegance and grace seemed to cling to her like a second skin, she wore a simple white midi dress that flowed beneath her knees, cinched at the waist by a plain gold belt that subtly defined her silhouette.
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‎Her dark hair cascaded just past her shoulders, framing a face that radiated pure warmth and a fresh, effortless energy.
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‎The moment his eyes locked onto her, Shivansh instinctively stood up from the couch.
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‎Acknowledging his presence, she offered a warm, welcoming smile. "Hello."
‎Shivansh returned the gesture with a respectful nod. "Hello... Dr. Sabarwal."
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‎She let out a soft, amused chuckle as she walked behind her desk. "Retired Dr. Sabarwal," she corrected gently.
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‎Shivansh narrowed his eyes slightly at the choice of words but remained standing. Observing her, he guessed she was likely in her mid-to-late forties, though she easily looked years younger, certainly not an age where a doctor would typically retire.
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‎Taking her seat, she gestured gracefully with her hand for him to take the chair opposite her. He nodded and sat down, though his curiosity got the better of him.
‎"I don't think I understand," he admitted, his tone measured. "What do you mean by retired?"
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‎Snehal clasped her hands together on the desk, looking directly at him. "I don't practice medicine anymore, because of an accident three years ago, I am no longer able to perform surgeries."
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‎There wasn't a trace of self-pity or sadness on her face. Her voice carried only a quiet, absolute acceptance, underscored by a small, lingering smile.
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‎Hearing this, Shivansh lowered his head slightly. "Oh... I apologize if I touched a sensitive nerve."
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‎She waved her hand dismissively, brushing off the apology with effortless ease. "No need, I moved past that a long time ago. So, tell me, what brings you here for a sudden weekend appointment?"
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‎Shivansh leaned back slightly in his chair, shifting into a conversational posture. "I saw the billboard for your NGO and felt a sudden urge to visit. After seeing how systematically you run the entire operation, I must say, I am incredibly impressed. I truly appreciate the hard work that has gone into this place."
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‎Snehal listened intently, her expression serene as she accepted the compliment with a gracious smile.
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‎"Which brings me to my point," Shivansh continued smoothly. "I want to make a substantial donation to the NGO. However, the lady who showed me around mentioned that you routinely reject outside funding. I'm here to convince you to make an exception. I am offering this purely out of my own goodwill and happiness and it is no burden to me."
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‎Snehal mirrored his movement, leaning back in her chair. Her posture remained perfectly elegant, her tone polite yet unyielding. "Yes, Shreesha told you the truth. I rarely accept donation funds for this NGO, it is a space I simply don't want anyone else to invade, this place is incredibly precious to me, it is very close to my heart."
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‎"I can tell," Shivansh said softly. "The moment I walked in, I felt a rare sense of clarity and purity. It felt like a place where I could finally step out of the relentless race I've been running. I felt an insane amount of ease, that is exactly why I want to donate."
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‎His voice carried a profound calmness. It wasn't the hollow, cold silence he usually wore like armor, void of all warmth; it was a quiet born from genuine relief, a temporary soothing of his soul.
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‎Snehal smiled softly, touched by his sincerity. "I am genuinely glad that you found a sense of relief here, and that you love Kaya."
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‎Shivansh's breath halted, his chest tightened for a fraction of a second at the mention of the particular name, but he caught himself, keeping his face entirely impassive. He remained silent, letting her continue.
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‎"It has been two years since we started Kaya NGO," Snehal said, her eyes lighting up. "This place isn't just a compound; it is the heart and sanctuary of so many women and girls. Seeing them smile fully and live freely is the greatest appreciation I could ever ask for." Suddenly, she paused, her eyes widening slightly in realization. "Oh, listen to me go on... I completely forgot to ask for your introduction. I am so sorry."
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‎A rare, genuine smile touched Shivansh's lips. "I am Shivansh Kashyap, a businessman, visiting from Bengaluru."
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‎Snehal's smile turned professional yet warm as she extended her hand across the desk. "Snehal Sabarwal. Originally from Prayagraj".
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‎Shivansh accepted the gesture, shaking her hand firmly as he smiled back.
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‎"Can I ask you something?" Shivansh asked.
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‎Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the desk phone near her pen stand, dialed an extension, and spoke into the receiver. "Ek chai..." (One tea...) She paused, lifting her eyes to him. "For you?"
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‎Stunned by her casual, take-charge behavior, Shivansh blinked. "Just water."
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‎She turned her attention back to the receiver, her expression entirely unbothered. "Do chai." (Two teas.) She hung up.
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‎Shivansh stared at her, thoroughly disarmed for a second, but he kept his mouth shut.
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‎"Hmm..." Snehal said, clasped her hands back together on the desk. "What did you want to ask?
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‎Shivansh leaned forward slightly. "Why did you name it... Kaya?" The final word left his lips almost as a tender whisper, carrying a weight he couldn't quite hide.
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‎Snehal's eyes softened, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. "It's my daughter's name. Kaya."
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‎Shivansh nodded slowly, the revelation landing heavily in the quiet room, though he uttered nothing in response. He let the silence stretch for a moment before steering the conversation back to his initial purpose.
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‎"Will you accept my donation to the NGO?" he asked, his voice returning to that calm, steady baseline.
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‎Snehal chuckled softly. "Mr. Shivansh, I genuinely understand your gratitude toward this place, but there is truly no need for a donation, we aren't short of resources. I deeply respect your willingness to help, but if you have the means, you should direct that money toward somewhere that actually needs it to survive."
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‎She offered him a gentle, perceptive look. "If you are someone searching for peace, I promise you, you will find it much faster by giving it to those who have nothing."
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‎"Dr. Sabarwal..." Shivansh's voice cracked slightly, hollow and stripped of all composure. "Would you even understand my situation if I told you?"
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‎The casual warmth instantly drained from Snehal's expression, recognizing the shift in his tone, she leaned forward, her face turning dead serious. "What situation?"
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‎"I am...somehow, connected to the name Kaya," he said. He spoke the name with an utter, breathtaking softness, a tenderness that a man as hardened as him didn't even know he was capable of possessing.
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‎He swallowed hard, looking down at his tightly clenched hands. "I saw the billboard for your NGO about two weeks ago. Seeing that name... it caused me to completely dissociate right there at the dhaba. I had to flee back to Bengaluru, but even after two weeks of heavy medication, I couldn't blur the memory of this name or that poster. I had this desperate, agonizing urge to see the place named after her and coming here... it truly is divine, just like she was.
‎Pure, radiant, entirely untouched by the darkness that constantly threatened to outshine her."
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‎He looked up, his eyes glassy, completely exposing his raw soul to a stranger.
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‎"Kaya... that name is my entire existence. That is why I need to give something to this place. It isn't for your benefit, Dr. Sabarwal. It is for my own salvation."
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‎His voice dragged from the absolute depths of his chest, fracturing into a single, desperate word. "Please."
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Snehal looked deep into his eyes. In their fractured depths, she saw the unmistakable reflection of a suppressed, suffocating pain, a pain she was all too familiar with.
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‎She dropped her gaze to the desk, swallowing hard against the thick lump that suddenly formed in her throat. When she finally lifted her head, the vibrant, sunlit aura that had surrounded her just moments ago seemed to dim, clouded by a sudden rush of old memories.
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‎She studied him for a long, quiet second before she finally murmured, "If this... if this is what it takes to ease the pain in your heart, then I accept your donation."
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‎Shivansh didn't smile, relief didn't wash over him. Instead, he just clenched his fists even tighter, his knuckles turning white as he anchored himself against the weight of his own salvation.
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The air in Prayagraj carried the heavy, humid scent of impending rain.
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‎ A sleek, midnight-black BMW glided into the massive courtyard of the ancestral haveli, its tires crunching quietly against the ancient gravel. A bodyguard, dressed in sharp black, stepped forward with disciplined precision to open the door.
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‎Yashvardhan emerged.
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His posture was commanding, his tailored formal wear making him look like a dark silhouette against the ivory stone of the estate. Near the car, Veer remained standing, his low, rapid murmurs into a phone cutting through the quiet courtyard.
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‎ Yashvardhan didn't wait, he walked toward the main entrance with long, deliberate strides.
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‎ As he stepped inside, the grand hallway seemed to swallow him. The shadows of intricate, towering pillars drifted across his frame like passing ghosts. The path led him deep into the heart of the estate, where a magnificent marble fountain stood. In its center, a sculpted peacock stood frozen, forever dancing beneath the artificial, crystalline rain of the fountain water.
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‎ A stray gust of wind caught the fountain’s spray, carrying a fine, cool mist across the air. The damp chill kissed Yashvardhan’s skin.
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Instinctively, his eyelids fluttered shut.
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‎ In the sudden darkness behind his eyes, a memory flashed, haunting and vividly clear, a woman, drenched in a heavy downpour, walking ahead of him, her figure blurring into the rain...
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‎His eyes snapped open, the warmth that should have accompanied a memory was entirely absent; his gaze remained cold, sharp, and unyielding.
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Without a break in his rhythm, he resumed his pace, his leather shoes echoing against the polished floors as he entered the cavernous living area.
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‎The silence of the room was shattered as his deep, resonant voice cut through the stillness, echoing off the high ceilings like a solemn vow.
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‎"Kaya... hum aa gaye."
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(Kaya... i'm back.)
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Thank you so much for reading....đź©·
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