POV: Aaravi

There’s something about seeing your father in your world that makes everything feel safer. Or maybe that’s just me, forever Daddy’s girl, watching my superhero step into my college like he owned it — because, honestly, he kind of did.

Mr. Rajshekaran — a.k.a. appa — didn’t walk into places. He arrived. Suited in crisp navy, his salt-and-pepper beard trimmed perfectly, he shook the principal’s hand with the confidence of a man who built empires and still made it home in time for dinner.

Even now I have seen women swooning over him,( he is just 43) for his looks , for his money, for his power or aura whatever. But he never batted an eye on them . Even when everyone around him pestered to marry again when my mother died giving birth to me, he refused and I'm still wondering about that. How could someone love me more than this man. Nobody could right?

“Your father’s our Top alumni, Aaravi, he is our pride.” the principal beamed at me as we walked through the campus.

“Top in my heart too sir,” I said, earning a groan from my best friend Rhea.

The guest lecture was happening in our main auditorium. Posters had been put up in the entrance lobby. ‘The Rise of an Indian Giant: the legend rajshekaran’ No pressure, right?

I slipped into the second row with Rhea while appa took the stage.

“Imagine building your first business at 22 and failing miserably,” everyone laughed and he began. “Then imagine doing it again. And again. Until the world stops laughing and starts listening.”

He had the crowd in the palm of his hand. From stories of selling air coolers in peak winter to negotiating billion-dollar deals barefoot in rural Maharashtra, he made business sound like poetry.

Even Ashwin — stone-faced, arms crossed, the eternal cynic — was watching. Will not yawn. Will Not check his watch. Watching. And that was a miracle. How couldn't he? My father was his inspiration. He said it many times to him and i have been proud for that.

What is more good than the good relationship between the man who grown you up and the man you want to grow old together!

After the thunderous applause following his speech, I ran up to appa.

“You killed it, appa” I whispered, hugging him tightly.

“You always say that aara kutty,” he smiled, ruffling my hair.

“I always mean it.” I said smiling.

Ashwin walked up behind me and extended a hand.

“That was motivational, uncle. Especially the part about vision. I should be thankful for you for being born on another generation or else you would have eaten all of us for breakfast”

Appa laughed. “You’ve got more potential than you realise, Aarav.”

I watched that handshake like it was some slow-mo scene from a film.

We were all going to dinner. Both families. Because that’s what friends-turned-business-partners-turned-almost-family do. They break bread. They bond. They pretend everything is smooth.

In the car, I leaned against the window, the setting sun glazing everything gold.

That’s when it hit me.

The first time I saw him.

---

Two years ago.

It was a rainy evening. Appa was hosting a company alumni gathering at a luxury hall in Delhi. I was wearing a maroon dress and nervous heels. I remember because I tripped over nothing twice.

And then I saw him.

Ashwin.

He stood near the bar counter. Black shirt. Blue jeans. Phone in one hand, flowers in the other. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t talk loudly. He existed — like a storm cloud that didn’t need thunder to be terrifying.

“Who’s that?” I had asked Papa.

“Investor’s son. Ashwin . Sharp brain. Very private.”

He had looked at me once that evening. Just once. I think I stopped breathing for a full minute.

It wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t even a smirk.

It was a glance that said: Don’t come closer.

So obviously, I walked right in.

---

“Stop smiling like that” ashwin whispered beside me in the car.

“Like what?”

“Like you just replayed your favourite fantasy film scene.”

“Maybe I did,” I shrugged.

We reached the hotel. It was warm and welcoming, and the dining table was already half-full.

His parents stood up as appa greeted them.

“Finally! The man of the hour,” his father smiled. “We’ve heard so much about this talk.”

“You missed the standing ovation uncle!” I added.

Ashwin walked in behind us, cool and composed as always.

We all sat around the table, orders were taken, and for the next hour, laughter and casual chatter filled the room.

Appa and Ashwin's father discussed their latest joint venture.

I watched him, silently.

This was everything I ever wanted.

Our families. Our lives. Aligned.

He didn’t look at me once.

And yet…

“This is what happiness looks like,” I told myself. Two families laughing, no walls, no bruises.