2

Marco

"Congratulations on securing the project, Sir," my secretary whispered discreetly in the conference room, ensuring no one else could overhear.

I offered a smile and a slight nod in response.

"With this project, our company's shares are going to skyrocket," she continued, her excitement evident.

I cleared my throat and took the file she handed me. "Please inform Ishaan. He's probably on edge," I stated, maintaining my composure. The public announcement of winning the project was yet to be made.

She nodded and exited the conference room.

After signing one final document, I graciously accepted the congratulations from everyone in the room. Stepping out of the conference room, I loosened my tie. My office colleagues looked at me with curiosity in their eyes as I gave them a subtle nod, signifying our company's success. They erupted in smiles and congratulatory messages.

Of course, they were elated; this was one of the most important projects, and I had given it my all. Countless sleepless nights and exhausting days had finally paid off. This project was my dream.

Today was the best day of my life.

Leaving the office, I headed straight to Ishaan's house. Parking my car, I walked in, and a wide smile appeared on my face as my childhood friend approached to embrace me.

"You've finally secured the project. I'm so thrilled for you, man," he said.

I tossed my blazer aside and sprawled on his couch. "I'm craving pizza. Please order some and don't forget to cover the bill."

He shot me a deadpan look. "You do realize you're a billionaire, right? Your name is among the five richest people in the country, and yet you crash at my place and make me pay for your food."

"You're an architectural engineer; you can handle my food bills, can't you?" I quipped, turning on the TV.

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, dude?"

I chuckled at his reaction. "Your annoyed face is the best entertainment."

"Go to hell, Marco," he retorted.

My laughter only increased. Annoying him was therapeutic.

He ordered the pizza while muttering a few choice words in my direction. In the meantime, I checked my phone to see if Disha had messaged me. It had been a couple of hours since I informed her about the project, but I hadn't received a response.

I furrowed my brow and then refocused on Ishaan. "Dude, Disha isn't replying to my texts."

"She has a life outside of you, you know," he shrugged.

"But she's my girlfriend," I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, pondering how she would react when she learned the significance of this project to me.

It's been three years since we've been in a relationship, and yet I haven't disclosed my inner struggles to her. I believe it's finally time to reveal everything about myself – to share the skeletons I've kept hidden in my closet for so long.

"You two should consider getting married; you're already twenty-eight," he remarked.

A pecuAmaliar sensation swelled within me upon hearing the mention of marrying Disha, and I couldn't help but smile. The thought of marrying the woman I loved brought immense joy.

"Wait, let me call her and invite her to join us. We should celebrate this day. After all, you've finally achieved your dream project," he said with an enthusiastic smile, dialing her number and bringing the phone to his ear.

I grinned and changed the TV channel, feeling the need for a good night's sleep to rejuvenate both my body and mind.

"Marco," he called my name.

"Mhmm."

"You should come with me," he suggested.

I raised my eyebrows. "What's the matter?"

But he remained silent, placing his cellphone in his jeans pocket and releasing a deep sigh. He hurriedly left the room, leaving me feeling anxious. I quickly followed him and wasted no time getting into the car.

"What's going on, Ishaan?" I inquired once more.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he accelerated, ultimately stopping in front of a hospital.

I gazed at him with concern, hoping he would share some information, but he didn't. He rushed inside the hospital, conversing briefly with the reception desk, and then hurried to the operating room.

I stood in front of the operating theater, bewildered, as he paced back and forth anxiously. I remained rooted in place for quite some time, until the operating room's light switched off, and the doctors emerged.

"How is she, doctor?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but we couldn't save her."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, about to question Ishaan, when the realization struck me.

Disha.

"Marco, it's been two days, and you haven't eaten anything," Ishaan remarked as he sat down beside me on the floor.

I kept my gaze fixed on the ground, feeling the cold tiles beneath my bare feet.

"You didn't even attend her funeral," his voice resonated through the room.

Funeral?

I blinked, and the numbness in my chest threatened to give way to a storm of emotions.

"Don't hold back your tears, man. I know it's tough. I'll never fully understand your pain, but don't repress it. You haven't shed a single tear in the last two days. You shouldn't bottle up your emotions," he advised, patting my shoulder.

"Please, leave me alone," I replied in a hollow tone.

"Uh, Marco, there's something you should know," he began. "The daughter of the famous politician was involved in the accident. The girl was drunk and hit Disha with her car. Her father ensured the destruction of all the CCTV cameras that could have proven her daughter's involvement in the accident. We don't have any concrete evidence to establish her guilt."

I snapped my head in his direction, trying to process the new information.

She killed my Disha, and yet she's living her life freely?

I clenched my fists as the numbness evaporated, replaced by a searing anger.

"Find everything about that person," I declared.