Chapter 6- A Quid Pro Que.
But the smile faded a second later.
He had forgotten something.
Something very, very important.
And that thing was something he never thought was important to tell.
Pari stood before the rusted black gate, its paint chipped like forgotten memories, its iron frame groaning with a sound that still haunted her sleep. The air around the neighborhood was heavy-as if the walls themselves whispered about the past she had buried deep inside. But she was here now. And she had no choice but to face it.
She took a deep breath, bracing herself.
The gate creaked open with a moan so familiar, it sent a shiver through her spine. Her hands trembled slightly as she stepped forward, each footfall echoing in her ears like distant thunder.
The house stood exactly the same.
Not a single thing had changed.
The same aging white walls, still stained with time. The narrow windows that stared back at her like frozen eyes. The potted plants-once full of life-were long dead, their empty pots now homes for dust and cobwebs. It felt like walking into a perfectly preserved memory... one that she wasn't ready to remember.
She crossed the threshold and entered the living room. Her heart shrank.
The familiar furniture remained, though covered now in white sheets like silent ghosts. She walked through it all as though searching for something-some corner that might cradle her soul, some place that could offer even the illusion of peace.
She wasn't ready. Not for any of this.
Still, as if pulled by instinct, she climbed the wooden stairs-her fingers brushing against the wall, trailing over the faded paint like touching an old scar. She walked straight into that room. The one that had once been hers.
The door opened with a soft click.
The room was clean. Too clean.
The personality, the life, the feeling of home-all stripped away. The bed remained, its blanket tucked in neatly, untouched. But nothing about the space felt lived-in anymore.
Pari placed her bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Slowly, she lay down, her eyes tracing the ceiling-decorated with faint little stars and glowing butterflies that time hadn't completely faded.
Those same stars.
That same ceiling.
The last bit of her childhood that hadn't been erased.
She raised her hand toward them, almost as if trying to grasp a star between her fingers. On her pinky, she wore a simple black ring-ordinary in appearance, but carrying the weight of an entire chapter of her life.
A ring that never left her, not in seventeen years.
She closed her eyes... and slipped into the memory she had guarded for so long.
FLASHBACK
SOUTH KOREA - APRIL 2007
18 Years ago
A young Pari sat alone in the backyard of a quiet Korean house. She was small, no more than ten or eleven, her posture straight, her expression blank. There was no trace of childhood joy in her face-no curiosity, no mischief, no sorrow. Just silence. An unnerving kind of silence.
From the house, voices carried-Mr. Lee's voice, speaking with someone offering condolences.
She didn't care.
She didn't want to listen.
She didn't want to be there.
She stood up quietly and made her way to the back gate, climbing over it with practiced agility, landing lightly on the other side. And just then-
"What are you trying to do?"
A voice startled her.
She spun around, eyes wide, to find a boy standing behind her-around 13 or 14, taller than her, with tousled hair and bright, curious eyes. He stared at her like she had just escaped from a zoo.
Startled, she yelped, then slapped a hand over her mouth, afraid someone from the house might hear.
"I'm not anyone," she said quickly, in English. "This is my house. Bye!"
Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned sharply and began walking toward the road.
The boy, unfazed, quietly followed her.
She noticed, but ignored him. She didn't want company. Especially not now.
Eventually, they reached an abandoned public garden at the end of the road-wild, overgrown, and forgotten by the world. She walked to the swing set and sat down, the rusted chains creaking as she swayed slowly, eyes lost in the distance.
The boy stood in front of her.
"Are you Indian? Can you speak Hindi?"
No answer.
He kept going anyway.
"You know, this country is too quiet. Everyone speaks a language I don't understand. I feel like an alien here."
She clenched her fists.
And then-unable to take it anymore-she snapped.
"Can't you see I don't want to talk to you?! Leave me alone, will you?!" she yelled, her voice echoing across the garden.
For a second, the boy looked stunned. And then he smiled-brightly.
"Finally! You can speak Hindi! Oh, thank god! I thought I wouldn't find anyone to talk to. What a relief!"
Pari stood, ready to leave.
"Don't go!" he pleaded. "Please... I'm new here. I don't speak a word of Korean. And I'm completely alone."
She paused.
"Then why are you here?"
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "My parents sent me. Their relatives live here and got me a scholarship to study. My dad's strict and thinks I'll 'become responsible' or something. But... I hate it here. I can't even understand my textbooks."
He looked at her, eyes pleading.
"Please. Don't leave me alone."
She didn't say anything. No sympathy showed on her face. But instead of walking away, she slowly sat back down beside him.
He smiled again, relieved. "You look younger than me. How old are you?"
She didn't reply.
"Okay, okay. I'll go first," he said. "I'm 13. You can call me Ravi. That's my nickname. Everyone calls me that in my family. I used to live in Mumbai before this."
She glanced at him, then spoke for the first time softly.
"I'm ten. That's all."
"Ten. Got it. Since I'm your new friend now," he grinned, "I need to give you something so you'll always remember me."
He looked around for a second, then slipped a ring off his finger-a simple black ring-and handed it to her.
"This is my favorite ring," he said. "Now it's yours."
Pari stared at the ring in disbelief, then at the strange boy who had somehow become her first real friend in this foreign place.
From behind a tree in the distance, Mr. Lee stood silently, watching.
BACK TO PRESENT
Pari blinked back .
That memory-untouched for years-rushed through her veins like a forgotten melody. She looked down at the ring now tight on her grown-up pinky. Her fingers trembled as she slowly removed it.
From her bag, she pulled out a thin silver chain. She slid the ring onto it and clasped it around her neck, letting it rest over her heart.
It had always stayed with her. Through every country. Every mission. Every moment.
Not just a ring.
But a memory.
A beginning.
A silent promise made under the stars of a forgotten sky.
And it was the only thing left that reminded her... that once, she had known friendship. That once, she had not been entirely alone.
AT THE RESTAURANT
Veer Singhania sat alone in a quiet corner of the rustic café, framed by the soft golden sunlight pouring through a lattice window. His coffee had long gone cold, forgotten on the table beside a leather notebook and a flickering phone screen.
He checked the time again.
Still no message.
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. This meeting had already started late, and he wasn't a man known for his patience.
With a swift tap, he called Zain.
"Where are you?" he asked the moment the call connected, his voice clipped.
Zain, on the other end, sounded annoyingly cheerful. "Almost there. Took a small detour."
Veer frowned. "Detour?"
"Don't worry, I found this street-side vendor making the most insane chaat. Smelled like home."
"We're literally at a restaurant, Zain," Veer replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I know, I know," Zain said, laughing. "But trust me, this is worth it."
Just then, a loud splash echoed through the phone line-followed by a shriek that made Veer sit up straight.
"What the hell?! My dress! Are you blind?!"
Zain went silent.
Veer blinked. "Zain... what the hell was that?"
The call ended.
Outside the Restaurant - Minutes Earlier
Zain slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. A large puddle-muddy, glistening, and traitorous-had sprayed all over a pedestrian standing too close to the sidewalk.
The woman now glaring at him looked like a goddess struck by lightning. Soaked. Furious. And absolutely unforgettable.
Her white kurti clung to her in streaked patches of ruin, her scarf dripping water like a stormcloud. But it was her eyes that hit him hardest-sharp, glassy, and lit with pure rage.
"I am so, so sorry," Zain began, fishing for a clean handkerchief in a panic. "I didn't see the puddle-"
"You think that helps me now?" she snapped. "You and your stunt driving just destroyed my entire day."
"I-I'll buy you a new outfit," he stammered. "I mean it. Same brand, same colour-I'll get it done."
She gave him a scathing once-over.
"Are you always this reckless or is it a special talent reserved for today?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the restaurant ahead.
Zain stood frozen for a moment, watching her walk away with the kind of poise only truly angry women possessed. He blew out a breath and muttered, "Of all the people to splash..."
Back Inside the Restaurant
Veer was still tapping his fingers impatiently when the restaurant's main door opened again.
And every head turned.
A woman walked in, drenched but dignified, her presence impossible to ignore. Even soaked to the bone, she carried herself like a warrior returning from battle.
Her heels clicked confidently across the floor, her scarf thrown over her shoulder with defiant grace. Wet strands of hair clung to her jaw, but she didn't falter.
She was thunderstorm wrapped in elegance.
Veer straightened instinctively. That has to be her.
She strode to his table and spoke without hesitation.
"You're the one who texted me? Mr. Veer Singhania?" she asked, her voice warm but clipped, professional with a hint of dry humour.
"Yes-yes, that's me," Veer replied, rising halfway.
"Fantastic." She sank into the chair across from him like it was a throne. "Sorry for the dramatic entrance. Apparently, I angered the weather gods and a psychopath with a license today."
She plopped her soaked bag beside her, fished out a tissue, and began drying her cheek as she spoke.
"So. Let's see... my team's in shambles, my biggest client dropped out this morning, and just now some lunatic decided to baptize me with sewer water. I'm officially ready to change my name and move to Antarctica."
Veer blinked, caught between confusion and amusement.
She smiled faintly. "Don't worry. I'm usually much more... put-together. Today's just a limited edition."
"You're... Anvika Roy?" he asked, still trying to catch up.
"The one and only," she replied, straightening her back with pride. "Daughter of Mahesh Roy. Manager of chaos. Bearer of bad luck and apparently waterproof makeup."
She offered her hand across the table. "Nice to meet you."
Veer shook it carefully, noting the strength in her grip and the gleam in her eyes.
Just then, the door opened again.
Zain stepped in, his expression torn between guilt and panic.
The moment his eyes landed on her, he stopped.
She slowly turned, and their gazes locked again.
"You," she said flatly.
Veer looked between them. "Wait-you two know each other?"
"We've met," Anvika said with sweet venom. "He's the reason I'm currently starring in a shampoo commercial gone wrong."
Zain raised a peace offering-a shopping bag. "I... brought you a new dress. Same color. Same fabric. I really am sorry."
She peeked inside. Her brows lifted.
"Well," she said thoughtfully. "You have surprisingly good taste. And guts-for showing up."
She rose with a grin. "Mind if I change? I promise I look far more CEO and far less shipwreck survivor without the waterworks."
Veer nodded, still in a daze.
Ten Minutes Later
Anvika returned looking like a completely different woman.
The new dress fit her perfectly-simple, elegant, and professional with a playful edge. Her damp hair now framed her face like a crown, and a faint perfume trailed her as she walked.
Every head turned again.
She sat down, flashing a confident smile.
"So, gentlemen. Let's get to business, shall we?"
Veer cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. We've been trying to get in touch with your father regarding the cliffside land. We heard you might be able to help us connect-"
Anvika's smile faltered.
"Ah. Yes. The famous Mahesh Roy," she said with a sigh, reaching for her coffee. "Listen, I am his daughter. Legally. Biologically. But emotionally? Let's just say we stopped exchanging birthday wishes about a decade ago."
Zain frowned. "So... you're saying-"
"I'm saying," she interrupted, "that I don't call him. He doesn't call me. We have an understanding. And unfortunately, that understanding includes never discussing real estate, inheritances, or family dinners."
Veer leaned back in frustration. "That... complicates things."
"Tell me about it," Anvika muttered. Just then, her phone buzzed again.
She picked it up and turned away slightly. "Yes, Sir. I'm meeting the vendor. I'll close the deal today, don't worry."
A pause.
"Of course, I'll handle it personally. You'll have it signed within the hour."
She hung up, visibly exhausted, then looked at her phone like it had insulted her.
Veer and Zain exchanged a glance.
"You look like you're fighting ten battles at once," Veer said gently.
"I'm managing a team of overworked engineers, a property empire built on stubborn egos, and a vendor who thinks the word 'urgent' is optional," she replied with a short laugh. "But hey, Mondays are fun, right?"
Zain leaned forward. "What if we helped?"
Anvika raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
Veer smiled. "A proposal. You help us get a foot in the door with your father-even if it's just a phone number-and we help you close that vendor deal. No strings. Just... a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Anvika sat back, intrigued.
"A quid pro quo?" she asked slowly.
"Exactly," Veer said.
"Something for something?" Zain added, a teasing smile on his face.
Her eyes flicked between them.
She considered it-then nodded slowly, her grin returning.
"I have to say," she said, lifting her coffee, "you two might be the most entertaining business partners I've met in months."
She extended her hand.
"Deal."
SAME DAY - MUMBAI
SCENE: PARI
Pari was standing by her hotel room window, watching the monsoon clouds roll in over the city skyline, when her phone buzzed to life. She didn't check the screen-she already knew who it was.
With a tired sigh, she answered.
"Pari?" Sharma Sir's voice came through with a rare softness. "Are you okay with me asking for your help again-from today onwards? For our work?"
She let the silence hang for a beat, then leaned back against the wall, her tone clipped with the usual edge.
"Wow, Mr. Sharma. So, I guess I'm not going to have any free time while I'm 'helping' you, huh?"
There was a pause on the other end. He chuckled nervously.
"No, no, beta, it's not that. It's just... I had another agent lined up-one of my best, the guy who was with you in the car yesterday. But he's been pulled away for a priority assignment."
She folded her arms. "And let me guess... now you want me to babysit a rookie?"
"Assistant," he corrected with a sheepish tone. "Think of it as being a senior guide. The kid's sharp, but he needs direction. I wanted someone I could trust for this first outing. And you're right here."
Pari rolled her eyes and began pacing. "Fine. What's the mission?"
Sharma's voice dropped to a serious register.
"There's a vendor in the city-big in the distribution industry. Supplying to luxury hotels, international restaurants, name it. The company's name is Patil Vendor, located near Central Bank on New Lane Street."
"And?" she asked, already sensing where this was going.
"And," he continued, "we've been getting chatter. Hidden operations. Illicit exchanges. We believe they're running a drug ring-quietly pushing high-value narcotics under the table to India's upper crust. Politicians. Celebrities. Even corporate executives."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You want me to go there?"
"Yes. Scout it. Blend in. Observe. Try to identify who's running the real show behind the scenes. The rookie will meet you there. I'll send the address."
Pari leaned against the dresser, one hand on her hip.
"Can I say no?"
"You wouldn't," Sharma replied calmly.
A slow smile spread across her face.
"Didn't think so. Fine. Send the address. And tell your rookie to try and not get in my way."
"Love you, beta."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She hung up with a smirk.
A second later, her phone pinged with a message.
📍New Lane Street, Mumbai
Near Central Bank
Patil Vendor - Level 3 Office
Pari tossed her phone on the bed, packed her essentials-just enough to look like a curious investor, not a spy-and slipped her black ring back onto her pinky. The weight of it reminded her: you don't run from missions. You outsmart them.
She grabbed her coat, tied her hair up, and left.
SCENE: RESTAURANT - BACK TO VEER, ANVIKA & ZAIN
Meanwhile, back at the sunlit restaurant, the mood had shifted.
Anvika Roy was standing now, holding her phone in one hand and giving Veer and Zain her full no-nonsense attention. Her once-frazzled energy had melted into that of a poised, determined professional.
"Let's go now," she told them briskly. "If we don't fix this issue today, the kitchen won't get its ingredients on time. Tomorrow's tasting event is crucial-and I'm not about to serve excuses to our international guests."
"Understood," Veer said immediately.
"You can wait in the car," he added, gesturing toward the window. "It's the-"
"Black one," Anvika cut in, already grabbing her bag. "Yeah, I know. Got splashed by it twenty minutes ago. Unforgettable experience."
Zain chuckled from behind her. "Memorable ride, huh?"
She gave him a mock glare. "If that car tries to spray me again, I'll sue the tires."
They shared a brief laugh, but Veer's eyes were already scanning the street outside, his mind shifting gears. Then, almost in a whisper, he pulled Zain aside.
"Listen," Veer said under his breath, "I don't think this is just about ingredients. Something's off with that place. And we don't have time to sit back."
Zain's expression turned serious. "What do you want me to do?"
"Dig," Veer replied. "Patil Vendor. Get to our safehouse. Run their business records, employee history, every surveillance image you can grab. If there's something illegal going on, I want it before I walk through their doors."
Zain nodded once. "I'll stall them. You get in. Text me when you reach."
They clasped shoulders briefly, then parted.
Anvika, waiting by the car, was scanning the street. Her eyes flicked toward the restaurant door. "Isn't he coming with us?"
Veer walked up beside her. "No, he's got something else to handle."
For a fraction of a second, her smile dipped.
"Oh," she said, slipping into the passenger seat. Her gaze lingered on the side mirror, as if hoping Zain might appear again.
Veer didn't comment.
The black car pulled away from the curb and slipped into the current of Mumbai's late afternoon traffic, heading toward New Lane Street.
What's going to happen?