My Heart Belongs To You

In a grand, elegantly furnished office, a tall man in his late fifties paced slowly, his expression pensive. His subtle jawline and salt-and-pepper hair, paired with a fair complexion, gave him an air of dignified authority. A sharp knock at the door made him pause, glancing up as a younger man in his late thirties entered.

“Good afternoon, sir. Viren’s flight will be landing in an hour. I’ve sent the car to pick him up,” the assistant reported before respectfully excusing himself.

This was Mr Rai Bahadur Singh, president of one of India’s largest enterprises, a company with ventures spanning nearly every industry. His only son, Viren, had gone to New York for his higher studies and had rarely returned, often staying abroad even during family occasions. Today, he was coming back only because his father had insisted.

Another knock sounded. “Come in,” Rai Bahadur said.

A young woman in her mid-twenties entered, dressed in smart, professional attire. Her chestnut hair was tied into a neat bun, accentuating her fair complexion and large, intelligent eyes. This was Priya, Rai Bahadur’s capable assistant.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted him. “I came to check if you’d like me to arrange your lunch.”

Rai Bahadur smiled slightly. “Thank you, Priya. I’ll have lunch with Viren today. Reschedule my afternoon appointments for tomorrow and ask Raghav to prepare my car. I’ll be heading home soon.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll see to it right away.” She jotted down the instructions. “May I take my leave?”

“Yes, you may.”

With a nod, Priya left the room, her presence adding a touch of calm efficiency to the office.

A short while later, Priya returned to inform Rai Bahadur that his car was ready. As he made his way home, his mind wandered to thoughts of his son. Would Viren ever embrace his place in the family business or settle down?

The car glided through the gates of a sprawling mansion surrounded by lush gardens and a grand fountain at the centre of a well-kept drive. The mansion’s intricately carved gates, reminiscent of a palace, opened to reveal a scene of quiet opulence.

Upon entering, Rai Bahadur was greeted by his butler. “Good afternoon, sir. Viren has arrived and is freshening up.”

Rai Bahadur nodded. “Thank you. I’ll do the same and join him for lunch.”

Half an hour later, father and son met in the dining room. Viren respectfully touched his father’s feet, and after brief pleasantries, they sat down to a meal carefully prepared with Viren’s favourite dishes—dal makhani, paneer butter masala, steamed rice, and butter roti. They ate mostly in silence, each man’s thoughts his own. Afterwards, Viren excused himself, citing jet lag and the toll of the time difference.

Late in the evening, Viren awoke, feeling disoriented. Remembering he was home, he straightened up, recalling that his father might be expecting him downstairs. As he entered the living room, he found Rai Bahadur waiting, a warm expression softening his typically stern features.

“Good evening, son. Did you rest well? Tea or something stronger?”

“Just tea, please. Stephen, could you ask Maria Aunty to make me some ginger tea?” Viren asked the butler, who nodded and left to relay the order.

“How’s work in New York?” Rai Bahadur asked, studying his son’s face closely.

“It’s good, Dad. I’ve started making a few investments on Wall Street, nothing major—just enough to test the waters,” Viren replied, trying to gauge his father’s reaction.

“That’s excellent. I’m proud of you,” Rai Bahadur said. “But remember, it’s your hard-earned money—you don’t need to explain anything to me.”

Just then, another voice chimed in, and both men turned. “Good evening, everyone,” greeted an older man, Rai Bahadur’s friend and doctor.

“Uncle, how are you?” Viren asked with a smile, though his brow creased slightly. “Is everything alright with Dad? I don’t often see you here in the evening.”

The doctor nodded but looked at Rai Bahadur with a hint of concern. “Yes, Viren, everything’s fine for now. But your father’s last cardiac episode left his heart a bit weaker, and his blood pressure is unpredictable. Loneliness and stress aren’t helping.” He paused, his tone softening. “Why don’t you consider staying for a while? Perhaps even think about settling down.”

Viren sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “Uncle, marriage isn’t exactly in my plans right now. As for staying… I’ll give it some thought.”

The doctor looked at him knowingly but didn’t press further. “As you wish. Vikram, I’ll see you at the clinic next week.” He nodded at Rai Bahadur, and the two older men exchanged a look of understanding before the doctor took his leave.

After seeing his father and the doctor off, Viren retired early, exhausted from travel and the emotional weight of the evening.

The Next Morning

“Stephen, is Viren awake?” Rai Bahadur inquired as he entered the dining room.

“Yes, sir. He was in the gym when I last checked.”

A moment later, Viren entered. “Good morning, Dad.”

“Good morning, son. Sit down and have some breakfast. Will you join me at the office today?”

Viren nodded. “Yes, I thought I’d come with you. It’s still evening in New York, so my work can wait for now.”

Rai Bahadur’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful. You know, it might be time for you to take a more permanent role here. I’m also thinking about finding you a good match—unless, of course, there’s someone in New York?”

“Dad…” Viren sighed. “There’s no one, and honestly, I’m not ready for marriage.”

“But why?” Rai Bahadur pressed, his tone gentle yet insistent. “Don’t you want someone to come home to at the end of a long day, someone to share your life with? Love isn’t just something out of a story, son. When you meet the right person, you’ll find peace.”

Viren offered a weak smile, sensing the depth of his father’s longing. “I’ll think about it, Dad,” he said, wanting to end the conversation for now.

Viren’s Thoughts

Returning to his room, Viren couldn’t shake his father’s words. Dad brought me here to push me towards marriage, to settle down for his peace of mind. He reflected on what the doctor had said about his father’s health, his mind troubled. I want to fulfil his wishes, but marriage? Love? Those are illusions—things that look good in books, but not in real life.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.

A man in his thirties entered, carrying a folder. “Good morning, sir. The boss asked you to join him for the afternoon meeting. Here are the details.”

“Tell him I’ll be ready,” Viren replied. “Thank you.”

The man nodded and left, leaving Viren alone with his thoughts, the weight of expectation heavier than ever.