Codename lotus, p.6
Codename Lotus, page 6
A plumber.
Beside him stood two fair-haired children—a boy, maybe ten, and a younger girl. The boy’s blue eyes shot up at my entrance, widening as if caught red-handed. The girl clasped her hands together. These had to be Lea’s children.
“I-I’m just helping him with the translation, Miss,” the boy stammered. “There was a note in English. I thought…in case you needed help.”
The plumber’s head poked out, offering me a friendly “Grüezi!” in Swiss German.
I knelt to the girl’s level, smiling to put her at ease. “Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?” I nudged her small nose gently.
Her cheeks glowed hot, like a little furnace.
“May I?” I asked, laying a hand on her forehead—warm. Definitely a fever.
Just then, the plumber stood and handed me Naomi’s precious watch. He spoke rapidly in Swiss German, and the boy explained he was apologizing for the inconvenience.
He left with a wave.
“Danke,” I said, relieved the watch was intact.
The moving hands showed 10:00 a.m. Naomi was probably in her office, unaware.
The kitchen door burst open.
I clutched a hand to my chest.
Lea looked frazzled, holding a brown paper bag with a red cross, probably medicine for her little girl. She exhaled when she saw her children.
“Mikkel,” she said sharply.
“I was just helping with the translation, Mama. Please don’t be mad.”
Lea glanced from him to me. “I am sorry, Miss Saanya—I mean, Saanya.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Thankfully, Mikkel was here to save the day. I’d had a craving and came down to make some jalebi, unaware I’d find the plumber here. So, thank you, Mikkel.” I gave him a thumbs-up, and he smiled.
“Jalebi?” Lea asked.
“Crisp, golden spirals soaked in syrup. A proper sugar rush, really.”
At that, the children’s eyes lit up. I glanced at Lea.
“Would it be all right if they helped me?”
“Please, Mama!” the girl begged.
Lea hesitated, scanning Naomi’s magazine-cover-ready kitchen. “I’m not sure if Miss Naomi would approve of this. She made it clear—”
“Lea, don’t worry about it. You are my guests now. It’s just making sweets. Besides, she’s busy in her office and it’s still early.”
Lea’s expression softened. “Well, if you’re sure. They’ve never had jalebi before.”
The little girl waved, looking up. “I’m Emma.”
I laughed. “Well, hello, Emma.”
“Okay then. Kids, you can help Miss Saanya. But behave and listen to her.”
I watched as Emma opened her mouth wide and took a spoonful of cough medicine before Lea readied herself to leave.
“You know, I’m sure you probably have a thousand things to do, but why don’t you join us?” I said, and both kids jolted with excitement.
We aligned the ingredients like little soldiers ready for duty.
“When you have yours, they’ll be lucky,” Lea said. “You’re a natural.”
I had always pictured having a child with a woman I loved. Would I be any good at it? Someone carrying a baby might have reached for their belly in a moment like this, but I wasn’t even showing signs of harboring life inside me aside from the morning sickness that had finally settled.
Mikkel puffed a cloud of flour into Emma’s face, and she shrieked, laughter spilling between them in bright, unstoppable bursts.
The kitchen rang with their giggles, the sweet crackle of jalebis in the pan, and the warm hum of a Bengali song drifting from my phone.
For the first time in months, I felt unburdened.
Joy.
I should’ve known better.
Like the sound of glass shattering, Naomi’s voice startled us all.
“Do you really need to turn the kitchen into a confectionery?”
Everything froze.
Her glare landed on the medicine bag. “Or an ER waiting room. If I catch something, I swear—”
I almost dropped the slotted spoon. “Naomi!”
Ignoring me, she fixed on Lea. “I thought we had an arrangement.”
“I-I’m sorry, Miss Naomi,” Lea stammered. “We didn’t mean to intrude—”
She grabbed her kids and the medicine bag. “We’d better go. Thank you, Miss Saanya.”
“Lea, wait. I’ll pack some sweets for you to take home.”
“No, no. We’d better go. Thanks again.”
As they left, both Mikkel and Emma kept glancing back, their mouths hanging open as they stumbled over their own steps.
Once we were alone, I faced her. “Naomi, what was that?”
Her breathing was uneven.
I watched her, waiting for the explosion.
“What was that, you ask?” she said sharply, pointing toward the counter. “What is all this? I have a system, Saanya. A way of doing things. I told you the day you arrived and made your first mess. This—” She gestured broadly, almost wildly. “—is chaos!”
It was hardly chaos. The counters were clean, the mess barely visible.
But that wasn’t the point, was it?
Heat rose up my neck. “It’s just cooking, Naomi. That’s all.”
I turned toward the stove, switching off the flame before the jalebis burned. “They’re just kids. They did nothing wrong.”
“That’s all?” she snapped. “You don’t get it, do you? This is my space, Saanya. My rules. I don’t need you or a couple of snot-nosed brats disrupting it.”
“It’s not disruption, Naomi. It’s just food. It’s music, and company, and—” I exhaled sharply. “It’s life. Things this house could use a little more of.”
Her eyes darkened, and she prowled forward. “Being here isn’t easy for me.”
“Walking on eggshells isn’t easy for me,” I shot back.
A small, frantic throb jumped at the hollow of her throat, and her nostrils flared. It was a tiny glitch that betrayed the cold, motionless stare she was giving me.
“No one asked you to stay.”
I forced my face to stay neutral, but my throat tightened anyway.
“You think I wanted to come, Naomi? I begged Sid to take me somewhere else after the first day because I knew—”
“Knew what?” she cut in. “That you’d turn my life upside down? That I’d have to watch you drag everything into disarray, making a mess of it all?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my existence was such an inconvenience to you.”
She picked up the spoon I’d set down, holding it as if it were fragile.
But her voice dipped, venomous and deliberate. “You know what this is?”
“A spoon?” I said, exhausted. “All this drama over a piece of metal?”
Naomi scoffed, and I reached for it, meaning to take it from her, to place it back where it belonged, but she held it tighter.
“Saanya, let go of it.”
We struggled for it for barely a second.
“What—is it about this spoon—give it—”
“What is it?” Something about the way she said it made my throat tighten.
“It’s my mother’s spoon—carelessly scattered,” she hissed, yanking it back and pulling my arm toward her.
The sleeve of my kurta rode up.
For just a second.
Barely a second.
But long enough for her to see.
Naomi’s gaze dropped, lingering on my left forearm.
My grip on the spoon faltered, and I let her have it.
I pulled my sleeve down and felt heat rush to my face. When I finally looked up, Naomi’s expression had changed. The sharpness was gone, replaced by something else.
I swallowed hard, waiting for her to say something—to press, to question.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she exhaled, shifting the scales of the conversation back, almost like she needed to ground herself.
“It’s not about the spoon,” she murmured, her voice quieter now but just as bruising. “It’s not even about the damn kitchen. It’s everything, Saanya—the smells, the sounds, the noise you bring with you.” Her voice cracked. Were her eyes reddening?
I stepped forward instinctively, my anger dulling at the edges. “What do you mean? Naomi, talk to me.”
She flinched as if struck by my words, her façade peeling like old paint.
“You’re doing too much. And I can’t—”
Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the spoon down.
“You don’t get it. You couldn’t possibly understand what all of this does to me.”
I opened my mouth, ready to ask again. I reached for her, but Naomi recoiled.
“Don’t.” She quickly dashed a tear away and walked out.
I stood there, breath unsteady, my hands still curled into fists.
What the hell had just happened?
My gaze landed on the counter. Naomi had placed the spoon with almost painful precision. As if it were made of something invaluable.
Her mother.
Her dead mother’s spoon.
A sudden pressure hit, like a hand squeezing my heart.
I wasn’t the only one suffering in silence.
NAOMI
I was pacing my office as the line rang twice before Sid picked up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Naomi?” He sounded thrown off, but frankly so was I.
“Tell you what?” he said.
“About Saanya. About everything that happened to her.”
…
The suspicion had been nagging at me. Those scars on her forearm.
And that comment she made the other night.
“Naomi, I—”
“So it’s true.” I stopped pacing. “Sid, didn’t you think that was a very important detail?”
“Honestly, I only found out about a month ago. That fucking bastard.” He sighed. “And it wasn’t my place. That wasn’t for me to tell.”
I ground my jaw and ran a hand over my face. “Yes. I know.”
The words left me with a sigh. “I know.”
A knot twisted in my stomach. Fingers pressed against my temple.
“Sid, I’ve been—”
Treating her like she’s some spoiled princess.
Now I understood what he’d meant that day in the café: I can give her you. My best friend, and a woman. Saanya could use a friend.
I wasn’t the sleepover-and-nail-painting type, and I’d never been one to offer emotional comfort. But if me keeping her company made Sid feel better, I’d do it.
“I…haven’t given this the attention it deserves,” I said.
Sid’s voice was calm. “She’s been through a lot. But Saanya is the kindest person I know. I’m sure if you just talk to her, she won’t hold it against you.”
I sighed. “Forget it. Let’s move on.”
“All right. How’s Saanya doing?”
I circled my desk and sank into my chair. “She’s as safe as can be, considering the circumstances.” I nudged the vertical pen holder that was slightly misaligned. “How about you?”
Sid hesitated again. “Actually, I need to show you something. Can you switch to video?”
I frowned. “What is it?”
“Just—just call me on video, Naomi.”
A bad feeling settled in my gut. I switched to a video call, and the screen filled with Sid leaning back in a chair. The background was classic, posh English décor. A woman’s house.
His face was shadowed in places where the lighting didn’t quite reach, but the moment he shifted, my eyes locked onto a fresh cut on his brow.
“What the hell happened to your face? Are you all right?”
“Ah. That’s nothing. Don’t worry. But am I all right? Well…I just got off the phone with Baba. I have a meeting in twenty minutes, so not really.”
That would explain his current rundown aesthetic. “How’s that going?”
“Much the same, I’m afraid. Baba won’t budge. In his mind, retirement means sitting in the Kolkata office every day, making all the calls. I’m the CEO, but I may as well be a figurehead. On top of that, he refuses to change a lot of the GlobalLink core values, which in current times make us completely outdated to the younger market and the newer generation of employees. It’s been an HR nightmare.”
It had to be maddening, watching his passion for renewable energy—a concept akin to fairies and magic dust to someone as hard-headed and conservative as his father—pushed aside for outdated pursuits.
For Saanya, GlobalLink was rebellion. She owned as much of the company as Sidharth but wanted no part in running it. For Sidharth, it was duty.
A couple of years ago, Sid had drawn up a solid business plan for his startup, which I’d offered to invest in, but he had turned me down. I understood. To him, it probably felt like charity, though it wasn’t.
Then again, Sid had a degree of his father’s pride.
His tone shifted. “Anyway. On to what matters. The police aren’t digging deeper. It’s like they’ve written it off as a failed burglary.”
I crossed my arms. “How? Your sister is part of a high-profile family in London. How is that not being taken seriously? They’re stalking her points of interest, for God’s sake.”
Sid had mentioned this a couple of days ago—suspicious men asking around at the school she used to work at in Kolkata. Now, it seemed they had branched out.
He threw a cautious glance over his shoulder and leaned closer. “Okay, what I wanted to show you.”
He reached off-screen, and a second later held up a piece of paper with some scribbled notes, written in frantic, near-illegible handwriting.
“This was taken from a guy I ran into. It’s a list of names. Based on my research, most of them are extremely wealthy individuals.” He shook the wrinkled paper once. “And the one thing the circled names have in common? They all hold obscene amounts of cryptocurrency.”
Cryptocurrency?
“What?”
“I think the police are bought, Naomi. Whoever Manish crossed is deep in bureaucrats’ pockets. And I’ve been…weighing my options.”
“What kind of options?”
“The kind that might get us some results. Faster.”
My eyes were slits. “Does this have anything to do with that cut on your brow?”
He didn’t answer, but I pressed. “Please don’t tell me you’re going after these people yourself.”
Sid ground his jaw. “I should have just—that fucking twat.”
“You’re speaking in riddles, Sid. My calls are encrypted. No need for secrecy. You should have what?”
When he looked away, my stomach turned. “So, you are going after them yourself. Sid, have you lost your mind?!”
He sighed and ran his hand through his black hair. “I’m not alone. My bodyguards are always nearby. These men don’t talk to police—they talk to people like them. I’m being careful.”
“You got into a fight. How is that careful? Did you hire someone?”
“No,” he said. “I went personally.”
“Sidharth!”
“It wasn’t planned, all right? I didn’t have a choice. But while I was looking into them, I learned something. Something about Manish.”
He lifted the paper again.
“What is this whole cryptocurrency theory?” I asked.
“All right. Let’s assume that your cybersecurity team is a vault of ex-KGB aficionados without a social life.”
I laughed. That broke the tension for a moment.
“In that brief window of trust, I’ll just say this: Manish wasn’t just an abusive coward. He was a thief. Turns out he stole a list of cryptocurrency private keys worth millions from these criminals. They think Saanya might know where he hid them—because they have nothing else to go on.”
“Private keys?”
“Yes. In layman’s terms, they’re like passwords. A list of them.”
“Why are they so sure Saanya knows anything?”
“She probably doesn’t,” he said.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“I will. Ask her, I mean.” Sidharth sighed. “But these men obviously don’t care. I don’t know, Nadee. I have a feeling they’ll keep coming until they find what they’re looking for.”
Nadee was a nickname Sidharth had once made by putting together the first few letters of my first and middle names. He rarely called me that anymore. The sentiment in his voice worried me, but this wasn’t the time to let my exhaustion torment me. I knew there were probably at least two elite bodyguards standing outside whatever flat he was in right now. Vikram Hazra wouldn’t have his only male heir walking around unprotected. And here my own bodyguards were actively on duty.
I thought about the easy way out, though. Agreeing to Sid’s madness and hiring someone and letting them handle it. I could return to New York and resume my life. No more nightmares reminding me of the past. No more exhaustion. Saanya would be off my hands.
For a moment, I considered it.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more to help, Sid.”
“I don’t think we should keep talking about this over the phone.” He shook his head. “The only thing I ask, Naomi, is please take care of my sister. Please promise me.”
But then I remembered Saanya and our dinner the other night, how she had let her guard down with me. A flare of guilt swirled in my stomach that I had just considered tossing her back to Sid and washing my hands.
“I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”
The call ended, leaving me staring at the now-black screen. Sidharth’s extra caution bothered me. I knew there was more to the situation than he was telling me, but my exhaustion dulled my instincts.
This lack of sleep was affecting me. And the weight of that promise somehow felt heavier on my shoulders.
SAANYA
I paced my room while I vented the week’s highlights to Sid. But it wasn’t just venting, was it?
“Sid, I feel awful. Naomi hasn’t exactly been welcoming, but what right do I have to sulk when she’s the one affected and holding it together? I’ve been doing it for weeks. The foods, the spices. My early masala chais.” I sighed and looked down at myself. “Naomi’s mother used to wear traditional clothing, too. God, Sid, I messed up. Massively.”
