Rahul stood outside Piya's hospital room, his back pressed against the sterile wall that seemed to pulse with the rhythmic hum of life-sustaining machinery. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his face as he glanced at his phone, the artificial silence of the medical ward pressing against his eardrums. Piya's text illuminated the screen like a digital whisper, each word a desperate plea stripped bare of any pretence or warmth.

Please ... can we get the project back? Please

The words pierced through him like shards of ice, sending a glacial shiver down his spine. His mind wandered treacherously back to the raw, emotional exchange he'd witnessed between her and Tara. He shook his head slightly, his whispered words barely disturbing the antiseptic air.

"Like mother, like daughter. She would not lift a finger to help herself, and yet for her friend, nothing is too much."

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type "Yes," but hesitation stayed his hand. The phone slipped back into his pocket, heavy with unspoken decisions. Time seemed to crystallize around him as he absorbed the gravity of his choice. Drawing a breath that tasted of disinfectant and doubt, he strode purposefully from the hospital.

"Piya and Tara are back on board," He texted Sana. The mobile erupted into life instantly, vibrating against his palm.

"Rahul, darling." The word 'darling' oozed like honey laced with poison. Rahul fought to keep the acid from his voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you really think that's wise?" Sana purred, blind to the storm brewing in his silence.

"Wise? It's what they need. What they deserve, and you wanted them on the project, remember?"

"Darling" - Rahul's jaw clenched at the saccharine word - "that was before all the drama. The grapevine is that their office caught fire last night. They're bad juju, I tell you. Imagine the chaos they'll bring in. You and I are better off -"

"I am sending them the contract today," Rahul cut through Sana's tirade, his voice sharp as steel. He hadn't made up his mind, but Sana's cold insensitivity had done that for him. "It's either that or you find someone else to manage the whole thing."

"That's silly, Rahul. You're such a big softie," Sana's honey-coated words dripped with derision. "I wonder how you run the business with such a bleeding heart. Okay, yes, the office burning down was a tragedy, but they brought it on themselves. You and I have no blame."

The vision of Piya standing in the smoke-filled office, her face ashen with terror, flashed before Rahul's eyes like a haunting photograph. How could he let his anger blind him so completely that he missed the raw pain and vulnerability in her doe-like eyes? How could he forget her struggles while drowning in his own pain? While he and his family had always enjoyed the comfort of a sturdy roof and warm, aromatic meals, Piya - a mere fifteen-year-old - wandered the cruel world without shelter, sustenance, or family to call her own.

"Rahul, you're being reckless," Sana persisted, her voice sultry yet tinged with steel.

"Reckless or not, this isn't some charity case," he shot back firmly, his breath slowing as memories of Piya's struggle painted vivid images in his mind. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of determination ignite within.

"Of course, it isn't. It's a business decision, one that you seem determined to overlook."

"Really? Trusting them to deliver after this calamity? You really think they'll pull through when the weight of expectations crushes them like a boulder?" She scoffed, her words dripping with venom.

Rahul pressed his lips into a thin line, irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior. "I believe in second chances, Sana. Sometimes, the only way to rise is by taking a leap of faith."

"Leap of faith? Oh please! You won't be bungee jumping from a cliff anytime soon, will you?"

Rahul clenched his jaw until his teeth ached, swallowing the acid-sharp retort that threatened to escape.

"I'll see you at the meeting then, darling," Sana purred her honeyed tone a gossamer veil over steel. "We'll discuss this further. Don't lose your nerve before then," she chirped with artificial sweetness, severing the connection before he could muster a response.

Rahul stood frozen, staring at the blank screen that reflected his own hollow expression, the hospital corridor's sterile silence pressing against his ears like cotton. He raked a trembling hand through his jet-black hair, frustration coiling in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake. He turned away, his Italian leather shoes echoing against the polished floors as he headed toward his car, each step weighted with leaden obligation and bone-deep hesitance. 

As the driver navigated through New Delhi's chaos, each angry horn blast jolted him like an electric shock. The world beyond the tinted windows was a kaleidoscope of motion, but anger simmered inside him like magma beneath the earth's crust. He replayed Sana's words—razor-sharp and precise—cutting through the static of his turbulent thoughts. The way she had callously dismissed Piya's struggles ignited something primal in him, a surge of protective loyalty that burned through his chest like wildfire.

The car glided to a stop outside the glass-and-steel office tower twenty minutes later. Rahul mechanically thanked the driver and stepped into the building's marble lobby, where the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee intertwined with the hushed symphony of corporate life. His mind spun like a dervish with the weight of consequences as he crossed the threshold. "Sana will just have to make peace with my decision," he thought, steel finally entering his resolve.