Chapter 5: Rivalries and Realisations

When Priya and I ate out, Kunal just happened to be working as a waiter.

It was Navratri, the restaurant full of families, the smell of puris everywhere. There he was, in a cheap uniform, watching us.

I ordered my favourites, but he changed the order.

I saw him scribbling, and when the food came, it was all Priya’s favourites.

When I asked, Kunal said, "Priya doesn’t like coriander, don’t you know?"

His tone was sharp, testing me. My ears burned.

I pulled Priya closer, acting possessive. "Baby, if you don’t like it, can’t I eat it?"

I said it loudly, on purpose. "Why does he know you so well? Am I not even as good as an outsider?"

My own insecurity bubbled up, but I didn’t care. I wanted to win.

Priya coaxed me, then coldly told Kunal, "You’re overstepping. Whatever my boyfriend likes, I like too."

Her words were firm, but guilt flickered in her eyes.

Kunal looked like he might cry.

His hands shook, and he looked away, wiping his face. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

If I’d seen the barrage then, it would’ve been full of sympathy for him, curses for me.

The world always roots for the underdog, I guess.

After seeing my jealousy, Priya fired his mother and didn’t let Kunal live at the Arya house.

The Aryas weren’t cruel, but Priya was firm. She told her mother, and Kunal and his mom were gone. Staff whispered for days.

Kunal confronted me: "Did you make her fire my mom?"

He cornered me in the parking lot, voice shaking.

"Just because I changed the menu, you retaliate? You know how important this job is to us?"

He sounded desperate, eyes defiant.

At the time, I just felt happy and replied carelessly.

Looking back, I’m not proud. But I wanted him out of the picture.

"Your mom can find another job. If you need, I can help."

I thought I was being generous, but he saw it as an insult.

Kunal clenched his fists, jaw set, refusing to show weakness.

"So what if you have money? Arjun, you’re not good enough for her."

His words stung, not because they were true, but because he believed them.

I laughed it off, but a part of me wondered if he was right.

Looking back, I really was the side character set up against him.

It’s strange how your own story can turn on you without warning.

Somehow, our auras just never matched, and we couldn’t stand each other.

Like oil and water—no matter how much you shake, they never mix.