Should Have Never

By Mansi Khandekar

Some secrets are to be taken to the grave, but what if they start crawling out?

Preeti Singh and Madison Kenner--two contrasting personalities, strangers--knit together into chaos after an encounter at the graveyard with the rather eccentric Meredith Lesley, who doesn't exist legally.

After the encounter, Meredith vanishes into thin air as if she never existed.

Her mysterious disappearance is followed by the delivery of two red parcels at the doorsteps of Madison and Preeti with each other's names. The unsaid truths of the past and their biggest secrets seek them, objectified as the contents in the box. Both of them are shaken up--someone had been stalking them through the years.

Not everything inside the box made sense until a fire breaks out in the neighborhood and a corpse is rendered faceless at the porch.

These series of traumatizing events draw Preeti and her arrogant and demanding boss closer, and strings are attached while Madison cuts all the strings of the toxic relationship with her abusive fiance all while tolerating her family.

Between finding the whos and the whys, the duo stumbles upon an insignificant boarding pass of a flight that crashed in 1996 in the name of Madison's father. Confusion and paranoia wreck their minds--what could possibly connect the present to the death of Madison's father?

With still no signs of the uncanny woman who had dragged them into this mess by an unfortunate play of fate, things hit rock bottom when an evening in goes wrong and Madison is abducted and Preeti almost dies.

While desperately searching for Madison, Preeti gets a visit from an unwelcome visitor who holds all the answers to throw their existences in turmoil.

It's not a secret, no--it's a chain of lies, betrayal, and sins.

Will they be suffocated by the lies, or will they make it out alive? Who is behind the series of planned tragedies plotted so intricately?

And the question that begs to be answered--where the hell is Meredith Lesley?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781684986132

Book preview

Acknowledgments

I have been immensely blessed to be raised in a family that has always supported the idea of growth and chasing after one’s passion. My love for reading and writing books blossomed in sixth grade. But as the pressure and the course grew vast with every passing day, I thought I had lost my spark for writing. The people closest to me made me realize my creative purpose once again—I was born to write!

I could never thank my mom, Deepika Khandekar, enough for everything she has done for me. As my first and foremost teacher, she never let me hold myself back in anything. Without her, I would have not been able to write a single sentence correctly. Thank you, Mom, for everything!

My grandmother, Asha Khandekar, who holds a very special place in my heart, has taken care of me before I could even babble. She is not only my father’s mother; she is my mother as well. I want to thank her for taking care of every little thing of mine and especially for feeding me the tastiest food in the world!

If it weren’t for my kaka (uncle) Pankaj Khandekar, Should Have Never would be just a shower thought. To my coach B, my mentor, my bestie for life, and my partner in crime, I’m extremely thankful to you for encouraging me to write this novel (also for buying me iced coffees).

There’s one more person for me who has proved that being family doesn’t translate to being related by blood—Preeti, whose job profile isn’t just limited to being my best friend; she’s also my therapist and my soul mate. Thank you for being there for me at my lowest and making the day brighter when I couldn’t see past the gloom and the dark.

Special thanks to Neelu kaka (uncle), Leena kaku (aunt), Prachi kaku (aunt), Ishaan, Reyansh, Shreyash, Pintu mama (uncle), Aalok Dubey sir, Shivi, Taha, Dad, all my Wattpad readers, and everyone who has made my dream of writing a book into a reality.

Thank you everyone who believed in me.

Madison

Stop it, stop it please. Noah, please, I begged him to stop. But he didn’t listen; he couldn’t.

He had become the devil right now, and gone was the Noah who would caress my cheek and say sorry to me for doing so much as lifting a finger on me which made me feel uncomfortable in any way. Right now, he was the one, the brute who could beat me lifeless.

My cheeks hurt with his hard hands imprinted on them. My lip was busted, and my head was throbbing as it would burst open any second. I was tired, tired of all of this, tired of life. A sob broke through me; I was giving up, on all of it, the sweet times and the worst ones. My head was thrown back, and it hit the soft material of the couch. The sweat and blood had mixed up and was sinking deeper into the cocktail dress I wore. My favorite dress. It was white and blue, the blue bleeding into the white and the glitter work making it even prettier than it could ever look.

I looked at the closed door of our shared apartment. Life had closed all the doors for me. If I would die today, no one would even know. I shifted my shoulder to feel some weight on it. I turned my head and looked at my shoulder. The blood from my busted lips fell on the strap of my blue Gucci bag. I took it off my shoulder and kept it aside. Nothing over my shoulder when I die. My cell phone peeked out of the opened chain along with some bills. Did I not zip the bag?

How fucking careless can you be, you useless whore? His words that he often spoke during his release sessions like such rang in my ears. They were plastered in my mind, and I started to believe all the things he had ever said to me.

I took the phone in my hands, and I saw the fear in his eyes as they hovered over my hand. Our eyes met for a moment, and I saw love, love for me like no other reflection of any other emotion ever existed in this world. I smiled weakly at him and my hand took a swing and I let go. A loud noise boomed across the room.

I won’t call the police. You know I won’t. End it. End this. You don’t hurt me anymore, Noah. You have made my will to live vanish, so please end this. I know you’re so angry because I talked to your friend, and he flirted with me. I’m not sorry. Let the rage out. Kill me, Noah. No fear of putting your career in danger. You can easily move on. Come on, Noah. I know about Cheryl. I know you fucked her after I left for Honfleur last month, I cried out and laughed. To be in love and let your lover make you cynical about it.

His eyes softened, and he shook his head and bent down on his knees beside me. I would have moved away, but there was no will left in me to do so. His eyes were brimming with tears, and I caressed his cheek and wiped the tear that had slipped down. He never cries.

We spoke nothing, and his hands had found my waist and pulled me closer. His head rested on my neck, and I let his kisses trail down from my neck to my jaw. I tugged and circled my fingers around his brown hooklike locks. I leaned my head on his shoulder. The clock ticked, and my eyes fluttered close. I felt his fingers glide over my lips where he had hit. He left soft kisses on my cheeks and lifted me.

I drifted in the black, and then suddenly…

It was a warm and sunny day. My mother had dressed me in a green sundress and a pair of her sunglasses. It was finally the day after days of both Mom and Dad working, leaving me alone at home. We were going for a picnic!

I put the chocolate bars into the picnic basket and turned to Mom and smiled. Mommy! You look really pwetty today! I exclaimed and hugged her. She smiled at me and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

Blake, come on! We’re getting late for our picnic, Mom shouted, and dad hurried down carrying a picnic mat in his hand. Yes, Persia, coming!

I giggled when he picked me up and planted a kiss on my head and gave me his hand to hold. The wind was pleasant, and dandelions blew as we walked past them. I sneezed when I felt it tickle in my nose, and Mom and Dad laughed. I smiled too. I felt happy, and I tightened my hold on Mr. Trinkins. The countryside was blooming with wildflowers in shades of yellow, pink, and purple. Dad stopped and plucked a small yellow flower and tucked it within my blond curls.

Isn’t this place the best? Mother asked, and I nodded.

We set our mat, and Mom and Dad sat down on it. I saw an ugly moth within the sea of beautiful butterflies. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Something so peculiar about the black moth compelled me to chase it. My mom and dad were shouting and screaming my name, but I couldn’t hear them. I kept chasing the moth till I felt no ground under my feet. I had taken my foot off the edge, and now the gravity was calling to me! I screamed, but I couldn’t hear my own voice.

I lifted myself off with a fury and panted hard with eyes still closed. I snapped them open when I could not bear the image of my father in my mind, his smile, his hair, and the same sweater as he wore in that photograph, all a figment of my imagination.

A few weeks later

Preeti

The next morning, after a night I can’t remember, I woke in a graveyard. Her voice crashed against my mind like waves against the shore; I floated in the sea of confusion where only a single thought consumed me… What had happened that night?

And that is how we do it in Japan, or should I say Asia? Amida Sei said laughingly in his annoying voice and giving the smile he thought was best, crumbling and tossing his speech onto the stage, making me cringe. A few claps went around in the huge hall of Kipper’s Corporation. It was a fairly modern hall, well equipped with all kinds of microphones and huge expensive lighting with a soft pistachio-and-blue interior.

No, Japan does not speak for Asia.

We have saved our best for the last! Let us welcome our exotic and powerful speaker, Preeti Singh! The host, Stacy, head of accounting, sang my name loudly, making the hall shoot up into a loud unison of excitement.

A spark of adrenalin shot through me, and I got on my feet and walked gracefully onto the podium. Public speaking was the one thing no one had ever beaten me at. Maybe my voice or the choice of my words had something to do with it. Never had I ever needed a written speech to recite out loud; everything I said came from a specific bundle of cardiac tissue. I glided onto the stage, picking up the crumpled paper while still facing the audience and pocketing it in my ivory-colored business jacket while beaming a pleasing smile.

Good morning! How is everybody doing? I said into the microphone upon my arrival and the cheers crackled and I smiled. A few whistles here and there for the three-time employee of the year award winner. I cracked a smile on my face and waved my left hand, with my right hand gently pressed onto my heart in a sense of gratitude while holding the mic.

Maybe I liked the attention.

Culture and traditions, very important aspects of communal life. They make us different, giving us an identity. But we are united by a common platform. I cleared my throat, taking a dramatic pause to observe the crowd. The silence was to kill for on a busy day in the office when your head was pounding out of the workload.

Yes, I liked attention.

Why does our heart ache when we see an injured puppy? Why can’t we let the homeless person down the street go hungry? I pour the sad emotions into my speech. The answer lies in the mirror, in our reflection, in our hearts. Humanity, we share a common ground of humanity. Every day, I wake up to be appreciated for my good work, not to be robbed of chances, of opportunities because of the skin color I was born with. I said and caught my breath. I knew my eyes held a certain spark in them. And that no one could refuse it.

I took the long and thin microphone in my hand and walked a little to the right corner before continuing, That humanity is infused in me. And that humanity stays and flourishes, irrelevant of my appearance or my background. Dramatic pause number three. "I refuse to let anyone come and disrupt that common ground for us! Everyone, let us come forward and stand as we are—humans. Let us respect and celebrate each one’s identity and culture. We shall make sure that we hold no possible common route as of discrimination, racism, sexism, and unequal and unjust behavior that makes the beauty of humanity look ugly. Let us celebrate diversity day by promising to ourselves…" To the left corner now. Walk steadily while your eyes are glistening at the crowd, staring at all the faces, exhibiting different emotions. A pair of blue eyes collided with mine before I looked away to avoid feeling self-conscious. Suddenly, I felt breathless. To never disturb the beauty of humanity and to make peace within ourselves as we are.

Ending my heartfelt speech, I returned to the center and bowed a little to show my gratitude to my audience. Cheers, whistles, clapping, and certain other forms of appreciation boosted my confidence as I hide the smug smile on my face. A string of appreciation played in the air as I take my seat next to Will Brown, my colleague, a business analyst.

Since when did you become a humanitarian, Pretty? he asked. Did I mention he’s a total asshole?

I smiled, keeping my always-cool-and-calculative-in-disaster persona, where the disaster sat beside me. I knew it well as hell how to manage it. It’s Preeti. However I like the compliment. Thanks.

As I was the last employee to give the speech, I fled away to finish the file I’ve been working on, totally bunking the new CEO’s speech. As we were going bankrupt last month, some international hotshot company chipped in and helped us to become stable again. I didn’t really bother to investigate, like I would, on the new company’s background.

The waft of my new vanilla incense sticks consumed me upon entering my cabin. This place was my first home considering the amount of time I had spent in here. The second was A-18 Artist Curve’s Drive. I placed my butt on my not-so-comfortable chair when a knock at my door disturbed me.

Come in, please. Always say thank you or please—how-to-win-the-employee-of-the-year 101.

I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat and adjusted a sophisticated smile on my face. The same pair of blue eyes. It was so blue that the reflection of the sky on the ocean would be embarrassing to compare them to.

Good afternoon, the manly voice said.

I looked up to see a literal Greek god, just the Indian version. His wheatish complexion would actually have you confused with a beach tan, his jawline you would like your skin to get cut by.

Good afternoon. How may I help you, sir? I asked, smiling at him. You see, smiling, not faking. It’s not every day that an eye candy barges into your cabin.

He nodded, taking a seat in front of me, and I sat too waiting for him to reply but enjoying that time too. He looked at my desk, and his eyes fixated on the calendar I had purchased from a gifting shop. Every month showed a different picture of different breeds of dogs. It depicted my love for dogs even though I never had one.

The disapproving frown on my mother’s face would flash in front of my eyes after I came home with a stray puppy in my hand while my sweater was heavily laden with its white hair. I snapped out of the sad memory and followed his eyes back to mine, and I regained my posture and put a gentle smile on my face. He cleared his throat and did not smile back. I could sense it. He is going to be hard to deal with.

Prakash Malhotra. I am in dire need of your assistance. What do you know about the Marlowe business? he spoke formally, shaking my hand in a business manner, giving me currents all over my hand, and I shrugged from the electrifying effect.

I did not ask why he needed it or even who he was. From his looks and dominating posture, he obviously looked in a position way higher than mine. I saw my usual attitude, the perfect blend of polite and smug, totally falter under his gaze. I could tell that women swooned over him. He was well-built, the one you would describe as lean and muscular. His blue eyes, a feature very rare in Indians, was quite different from my very own boring shade of dark-brown eyes. I slid back the chair and looked at my very organized shelf. My eyes scanned the third row and my eyes sparkled with just one glance at it and my hands pulled out the gray folder. I kept it in front of him and reached for another file and plucked out some five relevant pages and handed.

There are older files in the database if you’d like to see, I said and cringed at how weak I sounded. His eyes did not lift to see me. I sat at my desk again and continued to prepare documents for the next meeting to discuss strategies with new business partners. I typed into my computer and looked over the files in front of me.

Ms. Singh, please follow me to my cabin. I’ll be needing your assistance for a little longer than I had expected. Who manages all this data? His voice was like warm dark chocolate falling deliciously over me.

I-I-I do, sir. I am the head of the analytical group of this company. Is there anything else you’ll be needing me to take for the meantime? Oh, how my confidence was just fading away!

Can the old files be accessed by any system other than yours? he asked, and I admired his thinking beforehand and nodded. Definitely a workaholic.

He gestured to me to walk out of the cabin before him as he followed after. We took the elevator, and instantly, the air felt heavy. He was looking at his mobile screen, while I was admiring his sharp features. His jawline was to die for. He had leaned against the wall, and his eyelashes were falling over his sculpted cheeks. He stopped typing, and I immediately looked away. From the periphery of my eye, I could see him giving me a suspicious look. I bit my inner cheek with embarrassment. The elevator stopped at the floor only where the executives work. My brain stopped responding when I followed his lead, and he opened the stylish and shiny door to the CEO’s cabin. I had just bunked his speech. Shit!

Inside was colored in the monochromatic shades of white, gray, and black, professional and sleek. There were huge shelves fed with only black-colored files, and beside it was a door to what I guess was a room or a personal restroom. There were two sets of couches, both black and replica of each other. His desk was sleek and black with the stationary primly organized.

I eyed the matte-black notepad greedily. I want one too.

Behind his desk, the company’s logo was attached to the wall surrounded with a huge golden frame. There was a series of three white chairs in front of his desk. I inhaled the lavish scent that was usually present in a seven-star hotel room. He sat in one of the white chairs in front of his huge desk and pulled off his navy blue coat and rolled up the sleeves of the black shirt. The veins of his hands were popping up, and it was certain that he worked out. I stood there like an idiot gawking at his muscular form and his veins like a blood-thirsty vampire. He opened the files again and then looked up at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Do I need to drag you here, Ms. Singh?"

No, sir. I cleared my throat and sat down in front of him.

I gulped down, and we started discussing the Marlowe project for hours and hours. He had pointed out all the changes needed in the contract and the loopholes that slipped out of my vision. I was looking at him with my eyes wide. I have seen men who looked like they ran straight out of the runway but degraded themselves as soon as they opened their mouths. This man was effortlessly proving me wrong.

Finally, he decided to let me go while he was still there. I wished him a good night, but he gave no recognition, not even a nod. I scoffed and saw his lips curl into a smirk. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief before running out to avoid getting fired.

I was finally home with my roommate on the couch with DDLJ playing on the television. Believe me; Jyoti was totally into cheesy movies. She liked to say aww or Look how cute they are! and even Can Harsh and I be like that someday? I just sat there, totally ignoring her and criticizing her taste in movies and how a rerun of all the parts of Mission Impossible would be so much better!

I swept her feet from my lap, and she groaned when the novel fell down from her hands and landed on her face. I stifled a laugh. Hardcover? Good choice!

She got up and sat straight up. Pizza or pasta? We have margh—

I cut her off and gave her a look, "Chup kar, aur roti sabzi khaa." Shut up and eat chapati and curry.

And you sound like my mother. Now shut up and tell me. She chuckled humorlessly.

I have known Jyoti for more than two years. She had a frail heart. It took her too long to move on from something, be it losing a case or a heart-wrenching ending of a novel. I could tell that she was still pretty shaken up by the incident. I stopped and closed the fridge, skipping to the living room where she was sprawled on the couch. It was the elephant in the room, and she and I, we both avoided. But that elephant would chase us each time we sat together. The silence meant we both were thinking about it.

You are in denial, Jo. You sure are. I raised my eyebrow, lifting her feet and making some space for me, making that declaration. She looked away from the erotic novel she was reading, just to give me a look. She looked at me if I was lying, but we both knew I wasn’t.

Why would I be in denial? I barely knew her… She scoffed but wanted to continue, but for an unnamed reason, she didn’t and shrugged or shivered; I couldn’t tell. She was skeptical about the fact that I was not shaken up like the other girl who fainted. Even though Jyoti had known me for years, she could not gulp down the fact that I wasn’t the one to put on a show. I may have trust issues and anxiety, but on the outside, I was always calm.

You say that as if she’s dead, I stated and chuckled but felt like I shouldn’t have.

She kept her feet on me, and I shoved it away again. Her expression was what I couldn’t keep my finger on. Well, what to say? Meredith could be dead.

She changed the direction of talks from Meredith to the malai kofta she craved. We ended up ordering it from an Indian restaurant near the mall. Dipping my garlic naan in the creamy malai kofta, I lunged my mouth at my hand. I moaned, throwing my head back. A plethora of flavors swam across my mouth, resting on my taste buds and making my hand reach for another bite and another. I moaned each time, making Jyoti cringe and say, You’ve been single for too long.

I snorted and arched my eyebrows and let a breath consume me, getting ready to sass at her. "Or maybe I’m just too starved after a busy day at work."

I ended up telling her about the day I had at work and about the new hot boss. When that bimbo opened up her mouth after plotting us two, knitting us into an unneeded romance, I felt like I shouldn’t have.

Oh my god! You’re so lucky! I hope he bends you over his desk, and—

I cut her off before my ears would hear unholy drippings out of her mouth. And does not make me stay behind to help him with a project.

She rolled her eyes and snatched my empty plate along with hers, dumping them into the dishwasher. The air suddenly became too dense when we both sat opposite to each other. We knew we had to talk it out of our minds, or the cops will.

Why were you in the graveyard? she snapped at me as soon as