A Second Chance at Happiness : Chapter 5

 The hospital corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and early morning stillness. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting soft golden lines across the white floor. Arnav sat beside Khushi's bed, carefully adjusting her blanket.

"Arnavji," she murmured, "I'm not made of glass."

He shot her a look. "You got yourself admitted for a few week now, Khushi. So yes, for now, you are."

Anjali stood a little distance away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she watched them—this effortless comfort, this unspoken love. It warmed her heart, yet somewhere deep inside, a small ache lingered. 

When Anuj dropped her home yesterday night , Mukku suggested they will come and pick her up in the morning. But she made an excuse of going early morning as she wanted to visit the temple also. She doesn't want to be close to him. She cannot trust her heart when she is close to The Anuj Kapadia. 

So she left early in the morning, visited temple. Prayed for her family and Khushiji's fast recovery and left for hospital. 

Her phone buzzed suddenly, breaking the calm.

She frowned, glancing at the unknown number before stepping aside to answer. "Hello?"

"Ms. Anjali? This is from MetroDwelling Co. This is a reminder call after the email we sent before we'd like you to come in for an interview today. "

Anjali's breath hitched. "Today?" She totally missed to check the emails in the last two days. 

"Yes. At 10:30 AM. Can you make it?" The lady who called understood she didn't read the email yet. 

Her eyes instinctively moved to Arnav and Khushi. Khushi was laughing softly at something Arnav said, and for a moment, Anjali hesitated.

"I... I'm at the hospital right now," she said, unsure. Arnav was sitting at the hospital continuously. He could go home and freshen up when she is with Khushi. She cannot leave now.

"We understand. It would be great if you could come."

Anjali closed her eyes briefly. 

"I will try my best"

As she ended the call, her fingers tightened around the phone. She turned back, trying to mask the conflict on her face, but Khushi noticed immediately.

"Di? What happened?" Arnav asked, standing up reading both Khushi's and Anjali's face.

Anjali forced a small smile. "It's nothing... just an interview call."

"*What?* That's amazing!" Khushi's eyes lit up. "When?"

"Today... in an hour."

Arnav straightened slightly, his gaze sharpening. "And you're still standing here?"

Anjali blinked. "Chhote, Khushiji in the hospital. I can't just leave—"

"Why not?" Khushi interrupted. "I'm perfectly fine. And Arnavji is here."

Arnav nodded immediately without masking the happiness he felt when Khushi counted on him. "Of course, Di! You have to go!"

"But—"

"No 'but'," Khushi said, her voice carrying that familiar sweetness. "You've worked for this. You're not missing it because of me lying here doing nothing."

Arnav smiled teasingly. "Exactly. She'll be fine with me so please don't worry.. And her Amma and Buaji will come after sometime."

Anjali looked between them, her heart swelling at their insistence. "I don't even have time to go home and change..." She did not plan to attend an interview so the bright yellow saree she wore was too loud for a formal meeting. 

 "Di don't lose this job simply by not trying. And give your best. I am sure you will crack it this time."

That did it.

Her eyes shimmered, and she nodded slowly. "Okay."

Khushi hugged her tightly. "You're going to do amazing, Di. Just be yourself."

Anjali smiled, though her nerves fluttered wildly now. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Arnav smirked. "Trust me, that's more than enough."

She took a deep breath, clutching her bag. For a moment, she looked back at them—at the love, the strength, the family that stood behind her.

"Wish me luck," she said softly.

"You don't need luck," Arnav replied.

Khushi squeezed her hand. "But you have it anyway."

Anjali turned and hurried down the corridor, her steps quick but her heart lighter. As she pushed through the hospital doors into the bright morning, a new sense of purpose surged within her.

The glass doors of the office building slid open, and Anjali stepped inside, her reflection briefly catching in the polished surface. She paused for just a second—steadying her breath—then walked towards the reception desk.

“Good morning,” she said politely.

“Good morning. Name, please?”

“Anjali Singh. I have an interview scheduled.” She purposefully omitted Raizada part after Singh. Just do not want to tag the title of sister of Arnav Singh Raizada. It was not because she was ashamed of it. It is just because she was afraid if that is going to be her identity wherever she goes.

The receptionist smiled and gestured toward the waiting area. “They’re expecting you. Please have a seat.”

Anjali nodded, clutching her folder a little tighter as she sat down. The space around her was sleek—model layouts of luxury apartments, framed brochures of high-rise towers, smiling families in perfectly staged homes. Dreams, packaged and sold, she thought.

“Ms. Anjali?”

She looked up.

A well-dressed woman stood there. “I’m Ms. Kapoor, HR. Please come in.”

Anjali followed her into a conference room where two more people were seated—a middle-aged man with a sharp gaze and a younger man scrolling through a tablet.

“Please sit,” Ms. Kapoor said warmly.

Anjali took her seat, placing her folder neatly on the table. She thanked her luck for leaving her file in Arnav's car after the last interview. 

“Let’s begin,” the older man said. “I’m Mr. Mehra, Head of Sales and Marketing. And this is Rohan, our digital strategy lead.”

Anjali nodded. “Good morning.”

Mr. Mehra leaned forward slightly. “Tell us about yourself, Anjali. But not what’s on your CV. Tell us what makes you suitable for real estate marketing.”

Anjali inhaled slowly. “I believe real estate isn’t just about selling property—it’s about understanding aspirations. People don’t buy apartments, they buy a future, a lifestyle, a sense of belonging. I’ve always been someone who connects emotionally with people, and I think that helps in understanding what they’re really looking for… even when they can’t fully express it.”

Rohan glanced up from his tablet, mildly interested now.

Mr. Mehra nodded. “Fair. But emotional understanding alone doesn’t close deals. Suppose you’re handling a project that isn’t selling well. What would you do?”

Anjali straightened slightly. “First, I’d analyze why. Is it pricing? Location perception? Poor visibility? Or simply weak positioning?”

She paused, gathering her thoughts.

“If the project is good but not selling, then it’s likely a communication gap. I’d reposition it—highlight what makes it unique. For example, instead of saying ‘3BHK apartments available,’ I’d shift the messaging to ‘homes designed for growing families who need both space and privacy.’”

Rohan put his tablet down now.

“I’d also focus on targeted marketing—digital campaigns aimed at the right audience rather than broad advertising. And most importantly, I’d improve the on-ground experience. Because in real estate, one strong site visit can convert more than ten ads.”

There was a brief silence.

Mr. Mehra exchanged a glance with Rohan.

“Interesting,” Rohan said. “So you’re saying storytelling matters more than specifications?”

Anjali smiled slightly. “Specifications matter. But they don’t sell on their own. People remember how a place made them feel.”

Ms. Kapoor leaned in. “What about handling clients? Real estate clients can be… difficult.”

Anjali’s expression softened, but her voice remained steady. “I think difficult clients are usually just anxious clients. It’s a big investment. They need reassurance, clarity, and honesty.”

“And if they’re still unreasonable?”

“Then I’d stay patient,” she said simply. “Losing my composure means losing their trust completely. But I’d also be firm when needed. Transparency builds long-term credibility—even if it costs a short-term sale.”

Mr. Mehra tapped his pen thoughtfully. “You don’t have extensive industry experience. Why should we take that risk?”

For a moment, Anjali felt the weight of the question.

Then she answered, quietly but firmly.

“Because I’m willing to learn faster than someone who thinks they already know everything. And because I genuinely care about doing this right—not just closing deals, but building trust.”

Her fingers tightened slightly over her folder, but her gaze didn’t waver.

“I may not have years of experience,” she added, “but I bring sincerity, adaptability, and a fresh perspective. And sometimes, that’s exactly what a brand needs to connect with people again.”

The room fell silent.

Rohan leaned back, a faint smile forming. “She’s good.”

Mr. Mehra didn’t smile—but there was a shift in his eyes.

Ms. Kapoor closed her notebook. “Thank you, Anjali. That was… impressive.”

Anjali exhaled slowly, not realizing until then that she had been holding her breath.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” she said, standing up.

As she walked out of the room, her heart raced—but there was something new beneath the nervousness.

Confidence.

For the first time, she felt like she had truly shown who she was.

The hospital room felt livelier than it had in the morning.

Khushi stood near the bed, animatedly talking, while her mother and aunt listened with warm smiles. The soft murmur of conversation, mixed with occasional laughter, filled the space that had earlier felt tense and quiet.

Arnav stood next to Khushi concerned if she could stand on her own and watching them all but his full attention on his wife.

And then—

The door opened.

Anjali stepped in, slightly breathless, a few loose strands of hair escaping her neat appearance. For a moment, she simply stood there, taking in the scene.

Khushi turned first.

“Di!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up instantly. “You’re back!”

Everyone’s attention shifted to her.

Anjali smiled, a little tired but glowing in a way that hadn’t been there before. “I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

Khushi’s mother stepped forward, her expression gentle. “Khushi said you went for an interview, How did it go, beta?”

Anjali hesitated for a second, then let out a soft breath. “It went… well, I think.”

“That’s my Di,” Khushi said proudly, squeezing her hand.

Her aunt nodded approvingly. “You’ve always been capable, Anjali. It was just a matter of time.”

Anjali’s eyes softened at that, gratitude flickering through them.

She moved closer to Arnav. “Chhote, you were right… I’m glad I went.”

He gave her a small, satisfied nod. “Of course I was.”

Before Anjali could respond, her phone rang.

The room quieted slightly as she glanced at the screen—the same number.

Her heartbeat quickened.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, stepping a little aside before answering.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Anjali? This is from MetroDwelling Co..”

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

“Yes…”

“We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been selected for the position.”

For a second, everything around her seemed to fade.

“Selected?” she repeated softly, almost disbelieving.

“Yes. Congratulations. We’d like you to join at the earliest. HR will send you the details shortly.”

Anjali’s eyes filled instantly. “Thank you… thank you so much.”

She ended the call slowly, her hand still trembling.

“Di?” Khushi’s voice came, full of anticipation. “What happened?”

Anjali looked up.

There was a moment—just one—where emotion overwhelmed her words.

Then she smiled, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I got it.”

Silence.

And then—

“What?!” Khushi pulled her into a tight hug. “Di, that’s amazing!” Anjali hugged her back without hurting her wounds. 

Her aunt clasped her hands together. “This calls for celebration!”

Anjali laughed through her tears, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of happiness around her.

Arnav watched her quietly for a moment before speaking.

“I told you,” he said, his voice calm but filled with pride. “You didn’t need luck.”

Anjali turned to him, her eyes still wet.

Khushi pulled back slightly, still holding her. “This is just the beginning, Di. You’re going to do so well.”

Anjali nodded, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Standing there, surrounded by people who believed in her, she finally allowed herself to embrace it—

This wasn’t just a job.

It was a new chapter.

The happiness in the room hadn’t settled yet—Khushi was still holding Anjali’s hands, her excitement refusing to fade, while their aunt had already started talking about sweets and celebrations.

Anjali wiped her tears, laughing softly, still overwhelmed.

Just then, the door opened again.

“Looks like we walked into a celebration,” Akash’s voice came, light and curious.

Everyone turned.

Akash stepped in, followed by Nk and Payal, who carried her usual calm grace but whose eyes immediately searched the room with concern—and then softened when she saw everyone smiling.

Payal frowned slightly, amused. “What did we miss?”

Khushi turned dramatically toward Anjali, then back at them. “Tell them, Di!”

Anjali shook her head shyly, but the smile gave her away.

Akash raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now I’m definitely curious.”

“She got the job,” Arnav said simply from the bed, but there was unmistakable pride in his tone.

“What?” Akash broke into a wide grin. “Di, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

He stepped forward and hugged her warmly. Payal followed, her eyes shining as she embraced Anjali.

“I’m so happy for you,” Payal said softly. “I knew you would do it.”

“Thank you,” Anjali replied, her voice still touched with emotion.

Akash pulled back slightly. “So… tell us everything. Which company? What role?”

Anjali took a small breath, gathering herself. “MetroDwelling Co. Its In the real estate division—marketing.”

Akash nodded, impressed hiding another concern just came up to his mind. “That’s a very good firm. They’ve got some big projects running.”

Payal smiled gently. “Marketing suits you, Di. You understand people so well.”

Khushi jumped in immediately. “Exactly what I told her! She was nervous for no reason.”

“I was not for no reason,” Anjali protested lightly. “It’s a big step.”

“And you handled it perfectly,” Arnav added, his gaze steady on her.

Akash crossed his arms playfully. “So what did they ask you? Tough questions?”

Anjali chuckled. “Very. They wanted to know how I’d handle a project that isn’t selling.”

“And?” Payal asked, curious.

“I told them it’s not always the product,” Anjali said thoughtfully. “Sometimes it’s how you present it… how you connect it to what people actually want.”

Akash smiled approvingly. “Smart answer.”

Payal reached for Anjali’s hand again. “This is just the beginning. You’ll grow so much from here.”

Anjali nodded, her heart swelling once more.

As the room filled with voices—questions, laughter, teasing—she stood in the middle of it all, feeling something she hadn’t in a long time.

Pride. Belonging. Hope.

"By the way what is the name of the company Di?" Nk asked once everyone is done congratulating Anjali.

"MetroDwelling Co" Anjali told with a bright smile.

Arnav and Akash looked at each other at the same time with a knowing glance which didn't go unnoticed by Payal , Khushi and NK.

Anjali went outside with her phone to call Nani and others. Khushi's mother and Aunt were discussing something when NK came close to Arnav and others.

"What was that look ?" NK asked out of curiosity.

"That company is owned by Anuj Kapadia. I don't think Di knows that yet." Akash enlightened them.

"Do you guys think Di will the offer letter if she comes to know?" NK asked his doubt.

"I think she will. Mukku was saying She dismissed her plan of joining them again on the ride to hospital. Mukku didn't feel any doubt, But I think she is avoiding the situations where she is being close to him. " Khushi said.

"Whatever it is, I suggest we will stand behind and will not interfere in her life's choices. Right Bhai?"

Akash asked his brother.

"Yes. I think she can make the choice herself when the time comes and if she needs anything we all are there. "

They all agreed. Khushi sighed and prayed silently to Devi Maiyya whatever she had planned for Anjali Di , please let that plan be only for bringing her true happiness.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later, life had quietly shifted into a new rhythm.

“Finally,” Khushi muttered when Arnav signed the discharge papers, clearly done with the place.

Arnav sighed but complied, offering a brief, polite nod to the staff before turning back. “Let’s go home.”

That same morning had begun very differently for Anjali.

Her first day at the office.

She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her formal attire, her fingers lingering for a second as nerves fluttered inside her. But then she remembered the interview, the confidence she had felt walking out—and the way everyone had believed in her.

She picked up her bag, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

At the office, everything moved fast.

“Anjali, right?” Rohan greeted as she entered the workspace. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” she replied, trying to match his pace as he walked her through the floor.

Desks buzzed with activity—calls being made, presentations discussed, screens filled with layouts of upcoming projects.

“We’re launching a new residential project next month,” Rohan explained. “You’ll be assisting on the campaign.”

Anjali nodded, attentive. “What’s the target segment?”

Rohan glanced at her, slightly impressed. “Mid to upper-middle class families. But we want to position it as aspirational, not just affordable.”

She thought for a second. “Then the messaging should focus on lifestyle upgrades… not price points.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Exactly. Good start.”

By midday, she was already sitting in a meeting, listening, noting, occasionally offering small inputs. She observed more than she spoke—but when she did, people listened.

It wasn’t overwhelming.

It was… energizing.

For the first time, she wasn’t just managing a home or supporting others.

She was building something of her own.

—

Back at home later that day, Arnav had made a decision.

“I’m not going to the office this week,” he announced casually.

Khushi stopped mid-step. “What?”

“I’ll work from home,” he clarified, picking up his laptop.

Khushi narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t even look up. “Because someone has to make sure you don’t skip meals or run around unnecessarily.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “Excuse me? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“History says otherwise,” he replied calmly.

Khushi huffed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re careless,” he countered.

She turned away, muttering under her breath—but a small smile tugged at her lips.

The next few days unfolded in a way neither of them had planned, yet both quietly cherished.

Arnav sat with his laptop, attending meetings, giving instructions—but his attention was always divided. Every now and then, his eyes would lift.

“Khushi, did you eat?”

“Khushi, sit down.”

“Khushi, don’t lift that.”

At one point, she finally snapped.

“Arnavji! I am not a child!”

He looked up, completely unbothered. “No. You’re worse. Children listen.”

She stared at him—and then burst out laughing despite herself.

Later that evening, “You didn’t have to stay back from office.”

He closed his laptop slowly and looked at her.

“Yes, I did.”

There was no drama in his tone. Just quiet certainty.

Khushi’s expression softened.

Across the room, Anjali watched them—having just returned from work, her day still lingering in her thoughts, her heart still adjusting to this new balance.

Work, home, family.

And for once, everything felt… aligned.

She stepped forward, placing her bag aside. “Looks like I missed today’s argument.”

Khushi smiled. “Same one as always.”

Arnav added dryly, “With the same result.”

Anjali shook her head, amused.

As evening settled around them, the house felt warm—not just with comfort, but with growth.

Anjali was stepping into her new world.

Arnav was learning to pause.

And Khushi—

Khushi stood right in the middle of it all, holding them together without even realizing it.

The evening had settled into a quiet calm, the house wrapped in a soft stillness after dinner. Anjali had retired early, exhausted from her day, leaving the rest of the house unusually peaceful.

Khushi stood by the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh set of clothes, her movements slightly slower than usual. Though she had recovered, there were still moments when the weakness lingered.

Usually her sister helps her when she needs to take bath but today she is out with Akash jiju for a date and she assured her she will take the help of someone else if she need any. She planned to take a bath by herself but seems like she cannot do it alone. 

Arnav, sitting on the bed with his laptop, noticed immediately.

“Khushi,” he called softly.

“Hm?” she turned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” she replied automatically, but her voice lacked its usual spark.

He closed the laptop without another word and stood up.

“Come here.”

She frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Just come here,” he repeated, his tone gentler now.

Reluctantly, she walked toward him.

Before she could ask anything further, he took the clothes from her hands.

“I’ll help you,” he said.

Khushi blinked. “Help me… with what?”

“With taking a bath,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Her eyes widened. “Arnavji!”

“What?” he raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “You’re still not fully strong. Don’t argue.”

“I can manage,” she insisted, though her voice softened at the concern in his.

“I know you can,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to.”

That simple sentence stilled her.

For a moment, she just looked at him.

Then, without another protest, she let him guide her toward the bathroom.

The warm steam began to fill the space as Arnav adjusted the water, making sure the temperature was just right before turning back to her.

“Careful,” he murmured, holding her hand as she stepped in.

Khushi felt her heartbeat quicken—not from nervousness, but from the closeness, the quiet intimacy of the moment.

There was no rush in his movements.

No awkwardness.

Only care.

He helped her sit on the small stool, his touch steady, respectful. When he poured water gently over her shoulders, Khushi closed her eyes for a second, the warmth soothing more than just her body.

“Too hot?” he asked immediately.

She shook her head softly. “No… it’s perfect.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was… tender.

His fingers brushed lightly against her arm as he helped rinse away the soap, careful and unhurried. Every movement carried a kind of quiet attention that made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“Arnavji…” she whispered.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

He paused for a moment, then looked at her.

“Yes, I did.”

There it was again—that certainty.

But this time, his voice was softer, deeper.

“Because you always take care of everyone else,” he added quietly. “Let me take care of you.”

Khushi’s eyes met his.

And for a second, everything else faded.

The world, the worries, the noise—

It was just him.

Just them.

A faint smile touched her lips.

When he helped her stand, his hand lingered at her waist just a second longer than necessary. Their closeness shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.

Khushi looked away first.

“Done?” she asked softly.

“Almost,” he said.

He reached for a towel, wrapping it gently around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her damp hair as he carefully moved it aside.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Khushi’s breath caught slightly as she felt his presence so close behind her.

“Arnavji…” she whispered again, softer this time.

He leaned just a little closer—not enough to overwhelm, just enough for her to feel him.

“I’m here,” he murmured.

Her fingers instinctively held onto his wrist, grounding herself in him.

There was no urgency in the moment.

No need to rush.

Just warmth. Care. Something deeper growing quietly between them.

And as he guided her out of the bathroom, still wrapped safely in his presence, Khushi realized—

This… this was love.

Not just in grand gestures.

But in the quiet, gentle ways someone chose to stay.

Love,

ST