Cream and powder blue drenched the banquet hall of the five-star hotel, The Haven, which was the venue of the fundraiser event that followed the inauguration of the Vyom Foundation by Mohit Malhotra.

Cream colored silk drapes embroidered with golden thread hung around the pillars to the floor and resembled the hyperbolic paraboloids in the Silicone Valley. Aesthetic appeal of the hall in its cream and powder blue hue framed the mood of solemnity. A thick dais roped in gold and white marble stood in the center of the grand hall.

A mix of sandalwood and fresh linen, the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and a hint of vanilla and marzipan.

The rich aroma of food and the sweet smell of tailored perfumes and colognes.

The smell of money was in the air. Politicians and businessmen from various countries that are part of Vyom Foundation had arrived to impart legitimacy to its cause.

The event leaned more towards the formal side than the informal with the gentlemen turning up in black suits with dazzling cuff-links and the women dressed in gowns of pastel colors that billowed around them.

The only vibrant part of the attire of Ranveer Dhoopar, as for other men in the room, was his plum tie, which, he hoped, was a shade of purple that Suhani Malhotra favored. The lady herself had donned a powder blue satin gown that matched the tie worn by her father.

She had accessorized the off-shoulder gown with a two-strand pearl necklace and matching diamond earrings. Her left wrist sported her Apple Watch with a rose-gold band, and she wore rose gold studs in her ears. The cream color of the dress set off her tan skin.

A perpetual polite smile remained plastered on her lips whilst she greeted the scores of guests that poured in with folded hands. "Hi," he greeted.

The flicker of surprise in her eyes, which faded into a glimmer of recognition accompanied by a glint of rejoice, evoked a warmth that widened his grin. "Hi. Thank you for coming. Hope you have a good time," she said, fulfilling the role of an affectionate hostess.

"I hope to find tiramisu. Like always." The teasing edge of his words almost made it impossible to resist rolling her eyes. She chose to shake her head instead, and her stretched lips turned thinner. "Yes. I hope you like it."

With a warm chuckle, Ranveer walked ahead into the crowd. It was neither the time nor the place to indulge in banter, for it would add to her pile of responsibility she shouldered that evening.

He had found a few of the regular attendees who would expect an acknowledgement from him, especially to clarify about the absence of his father, who had to attend a conference in New York.

He partook in the social niceties, but there were only so many times one could answer about the size of his startup or comment about the drastic changes brought about by A.I. His eager eyes flicked towards the busy woman, who continued to welcome the guests.

With a defeated sigh at his inability to aid her, Ranveer excused himself from the group when his eyes found Yukti Malhotra, the twenty-year-old paternal cousin of Suhani Malhotra. She stood with a flute of champagne, without even bringing it close to her lips even once.

"Hi, Yukti!"

The lady dressed in the cream gown shifted her attention to the towering man. Her lips twitched into a courteous smile, not unlike the one sported by her cousin. "Hi, Bhaiyya! Good to see you here."

The young woman had interned at his startup because of her interest in data analytics, and he had considered her akin to his cousin, Kajal Ahuja, who was a close friend of the young Malhotra.

"You must be missing your father." The curve of Yukti's lips faltered and her eyes narrowed.

"I mean, less than two years since he passed away, and you were just eighteen," he added, but he knew his words did nothing to soothe and everything to instigate when the younger woman's eyes blazed with rage.

"I wish he had died earlier." Ranveer's eyes turned wide when realization gleamed in his eyes and his lips parted in shock. His involuntary step away from her brought cognizance to her frenzied mind about the words that had slipped her lips.

The observant entrepreneur had not missed the similarities between the reactions of the cousins at the mention of Vyom Malhotra. He had not deciphered the cause of the older Malhotra sister's discomfort at the discussion of the charity when they had last met.

But after the unexpected revelation from her younger sister left him with little doubt, the reason was the deceased man. The understanding made his blood run cold and his heart sank.

Ranveer Dhoopar's heart sank as he contemplated her aversion to touch, her reluctance to share with him a piece of her innermost self. He was desperate for the answer that would either confirm his deepest fears or free him from the unrelenting darkness that had been shrouding him. With a final breath he stepped forward, not knowing if his courage would be met with confirmation of his despair or deliverance from it.

"Why... Why do you say that, Yukti? Did he... did he hurt you?"

Yukti bit down on her lower lip and averted her eyes from her honorary brother. She placed the flute on the table behind her whilst her eyes remained downcast. The quivering of her lips sent ripples of panic in Ranveer's heart.

"Forget this happened, Bhaiyya. Forget I ever mentioned anything about him," she said in a hushed and hurried tone.

The distraught man took a step in her direction, but with his focus disturbed, the bustling crowd's animated chatter resonated in his ears and the momentary distraction allowed the young lady to slip into the crowd.

He had always assumed incompatibility to be the reason behind the divorce of Yukti's parents. The knowledge of the Yukti's distaste for her late father cleared the optimistic haze from his eyes and compelled him to acknowledge the sinister possibilities.

But Suhani's father, Vyom's brother, Mohit Malhotra, was as much attached to his brother as Ranveer always remembered him to be. If the younger of the senior Malhotras was a man that traumatised the Malhotra daughters, how can the elder brother harbour such unbridled compassion and love for such a man?

The endless stream of questions with no answers was overwhelming to him, making it impossible for him to unravel the secret that the Malhotra women were trying so hard to keep hidden. Even though he desperately wanted to ask them for more information, he couldn't bring himself to do it, knowing it would only lead to more problems and difficulties for them.

The urge to soothe the elder daughter was near to insurmountable. To lend a listening ear, to offer the support of his shoulder, to wipe her tears, and to lull her to sleep - he wished them and more. And so he would, he decided.

Irrespective of the answers. Despite the answers. The answers mattered because she meant more to him that his words could describe or his actions could show. To lose her, to find those answers which derived their meaning from her, was a fool's mistake, and he, despite his desperate despair, was no fool.