The Secret

Chapter Four: The First Request

The following morning, Arun hoped his father would have changed his mind.

He was wrong.

When he entered the dining room, he found Madhavan and Devika waiting for him. His mother had placed a cup of tea on the table, but nobody seemed interested in breakfast.

“We need to talk about yesterday,” Madhavan said.

“I already gave you my answer.”

“And I heard you. But the situation has changed.”

“How?”

“The journalist has confirmed that he is coming to the house tomorrow. He has photographs, documents, and information about your grandfather's second family.”

Arun sat down reluctantly.

“Then let him come.”

“You don't understand what could happen.”

“Then explain it to me instead of asking me to lie.”

His father took a deep breath.

“Nisha has returned to claim her mother's rights. Until the legal questions are settled, we need to prevent the journalist from turning this into a public spectacle. If people believe that Nisha is already staying here and being welcomed by the family, it may give us time to handle the situation.”

“Why can't the real Nisha do that?”

Madhavan looked away.

“Because she refuses to cooperate with us.”

Arun almost laughed.

“Can you blame her?”

“Arun!”

“She's spent her life being ignored by this family. Now she comes here asking for answers, and you want to control the story again.”

Devika placed a hand on her husband's arm.

“Please. Let him finish.”

Madhavan's expression remained stern, but he sat down.

Devika turned to Arun.

“I know this is a difficult thing to ask. I don't want you to feel that we are forcing you to become someone you are not. We are asking for your help during a difficult time.”

“Amma, pretending to be Nisha isn't a small favour.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

She looked at him sadly.

“Because you're the only person your father believes can do this without involving someone outside the family.”

Arun shook his head.

“You're both making me responsible for a problem I didn't create.”

Nobody disagreed with him.

That silence frustrated him more than another argument would have.

Finally, Madhavan spoke.

“You don't have to decide this very minute. Think about it.”

Arun stood up.

“I've already thought about it.”

He returned to his bedroom and shut the door.

For the next hour, he walked from one side of the room to the other. He tried to concentrate on his phone, but every few minutes his mind returned to the same question.

What would happen if he refused?

His father might continue searching for another way to manage the scandal. His mother would be caught between them. Nisha would remain trapped in a family that still did not want to acknowledge her.

But if he agreed, he would become part of the deception.

He did not know which choice would cause more damage.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

Devika entered carrying a large garment box.

Arun looked at it immediately.

“Amma, no.”

“Please let me explain.”

She placed the box on the bed and opened it.

Inside was a beautiful magenta-pink saree with a gold border. Beside it lay a matching blouse, a small jewellery box, and a packet of jasmine flowers.

Arun stared at the items.

“You've already prepared everything?”

“I wanted you to see what we were asking.”

“You mean you wanted to make it harder for me to say no.”

Devika looked hurt.

“That's not fair.”

“Isn't it?”

She took a seat beside the box.

“The saree belonged to your grandmother. She wore it for family celebrations. I thought it might make this easier for you.”

“Easier? How is any of this supposed to be easy?”

“It isn't.”

Her honesty made him pause.

Devika opened the jewellery box. Inside were a pair of gold earrings, a delicate necklace, and a few bangles.

“You wouldn't have to wear all of this every day,” she explained. “Only when it is necessary for the plan.”

Arun looked at the saree again.

He had seen women in his family wear sarees for weddings, festivals, and important occasions. He had never imagined that one day his mother would place one on his bed and ask him to wear it.

“I'm not Nisha,” he said quietly.

“I know, Arun.”

“Then stop treating me as though I can become her just by changing my clothes.”

Devika closed the jewellery box.

“I am not asking you to become her in your heart. I am asking you to help us manage what happens outside this house.”

Arun looked away.

He hated that part of him understood her fear. He hated even more that understanding did not make the request acceptable.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

“I'll think about it. But I am not promising anything.”

Devika nodded.

“That is all I am asking for now.”

She left the room, taking the jewellery box with her. The saree remained on the bed.

Arun stood beside it for a long time.

Then he picked it up.

The fabric was soft, and the gold border caught the afternoon sunlight. It was beautiful, but that was not what troubled him.

He was troubled by the fact that everyone else had already decided what he should do.

He placed the saree back in the box and closed the lid.

For the rest of the afternoon, he avoided his parents.

But that evening, Nisha came to speak with him.

“I heard what your father asked you to do,” she said.

Arun looked at her in surprise.

“You heard about the saree?”

“I heard about the whole plan.”

“And what do you think?”

Nisha sat across from him.

“I think my family has a long history of deciding what other people should do with their lives.”

Arun gave a short, bitter laugh.

“That's one way of putting it.”

“I also think you should know something. If you agree to this, don't do it because you believe you owe my family anything.”

“Then why should I do it?”

“You shouldn't do anything you don't want to do.”

Her answer surprised him.

“Your father seems to think otherwise.”

“My father has been dead for years. And your father is not my father.”

Arun looked at her carefully.

For the first time, he saw that Nisha was not simply the person at the centre of the scandal. She was also someone who had spent years being told what she could ask for, what she should accept, and which truths were too inconvenient to discuss.

“Why are you staying here if you don't trust them?” he asked.

“Because the documents are here. And because I want to know what happened to my mother.”

She stood up.

“One more thing, Arun. Don't let anyone convince you that helping us means surrendering your right to say no.”

After she left, Arun sat quietly beside his window.

Her words stayed with him.

That night, he received another message from the unknown number.

If you wear the saree tomorrow, be careful what you agree to afterward.

He typed a reply.

Arun: Who are you?

The response came almost at once.

Someone who knows Rohan Varma.

Arun frowned.

A second message followed.

Don't trust him until you know why he is really here.

Before Arun could respond, the number stopped replying.

He looked towards the closed garment box.

Tomorrow, he would have to make a decision.

And somewhere outside the house, someone appeared determined to make sure he made the wrong one.