Shreya Murthy

As I stepped out of the cab, my phone buzzed. On the other end, my sister's voice carried a note of concern.
"Have you reached the venue?" Nandini Di asked anxiously.
I smiled, trying to reassure her. "Yes, Di, I've reached safely. Please don't stress yourself. You shouldn't be worrying about anything right now."

She let out a small sigh. "I know, I know... You'll manage everything."
Before she could continue, I gently interrupted her. "Alright, Di, I should go now. I have to head inside."
With a soft chuckle, she said, "All the best!"
"Thank you," I replied before ending the call.

Nandini Di was pregnant, and she and Jiju lived alone in Delhi. Mom had insisted-no, practically forced me-to stay with her. Di wasn't too keen on the idea, but who could argue with Mom? And honestly, staying at home all day was unbearably boring.

That's why I was here today-for a job interview. I knew leaving Di alone wasn't ideal, but she wasn't that fragile either. It had only been four months. So instead of sitting idle, I figured I might as well find something to do in Delhi, even if it was just a small job to keep myself occupied.

Dressed in formal attire-a crisp white top and black trousers-I had tied my hair into a neat ponytail. With a deep breath, I walked straight to the receptionist.

"Please wait for your turn," she said, glancing at the list. My number was 16 out of 20, which meant a long wait ahead.

Two hours passed. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glancing at the clock. Just then, the receptionist returned, her expression indifferent.
"The interviews are over. You all can leave now."
"What the-?" My eyes widened. "How is the interview over? I didn't even get my turn!"

She shrugged, uninterested. "We've already selected our new architect. The remaining candidates can leave."
Eight of us, none of whom had even stepped inside for the interview. Frustrated murmurs filled the room.
"This isn't fair."
"Everyone should've gotten a chance."
"I've been waiting here for two hours for nothing!"

Neither could I. There was no way I was walking out empty-handed after wasting so much time.
As I turned toward the exit, my gaze fell on a few sharply dressed men stepping out of the interview room. They looked like the ones who had been on the panel. Without a second thought, I marched straight to them.
"Excuse me, can I speak with you for a moment?" I asked firmly, standing in front of them.

One of them-tall, at least 6'2", with a rigid posture and an air of arrogance-didn't even bother to look at me properly.
"No," he replied coldly. "We're busy."
And just like that, he turned to leave.
My blood boiled. How could someone be this rude?

I didn't hold back. Raising my voice just enough to make sure he not only heard me but actually registered my words, I said,
"Oh, so your time is valuable, but ours is worthless? Is that it?"

The man halted mid-step. For a brief moment, he turned to look at me, his sharp gaze assessing. But just as quickly, he dismissed me, resuming his stride as if my words-and my time-meant nothing.
Oh no, I wasn't going to let it slide. If he thought he could walk away after this blatant insult, he was mistaken. I wasn't done yet. If he had insulted me, I'd make sure to return the favor.

He was just about to leave. His car was already parked near the main entrance of the building.
I grabbed my file, stuffed it into my bag, and without a second thought, walked straight toward his car. Near the entrance, a large potted plant caught my eye. Using its sturdy green stalks for support, I lifted it with both hands and marched forward.
Just as he was about to step inside his car, I stepped in front of him and-without hesitation-smashed the pot against his windshield.
Boom!

The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Tiny shards flew in all directions. He instinctively took a step back, startled. The other two men, already seated in the back, seemed unharmed. But I wasn't looking at them.
My focus was solely on him.

His sharp eyes burned with anger, his jaw clenched. But did I care? Not one bit. The interview was already over, and I had no intention of working here anyway.

He took a step toward me, his voice laced with fury. "How dare you do that?"
"Just the way you dared to waste two hours of my time," I shot back without flinching.

His fists clenched. "Are you insane? Do you even realize what you've done?"
I met his gaze head-on. "Oh, I know exactly what I did. And since you wasted my time, it's only fair that I waste yours. I don't takes favors."
His hands shook slightly, his restraint obvious.
Had I been a man, he would have grabbed my collar by now-or maybe even thrown a punch. But since we were standing right outside his own office, and I was a woman, he held back.
I didn't.

I stood my ground, eyes locked with his, refusing to back down.
Just then, an elderly man stepped out of the car, his presence instantly diffusing the tension. With a calm yet authoritative voice, he turned to me and asked, "What's the problem, dear?"
I glanced at him, my rage momentarily cooling. Taking a single step forward, I prepared to answer.

He extended his hand with a polite smile. "I'm Harsh Patil, CEO of Harsh Constructions. And you are?"
How polite, I thought. A stark contrast to his arrogant son. Shaking his hand, I replied, "Shreya Murti. I came for the interview."
Before I could continue, that same insufferable man behind me interrupted. "Dad, let's go. I've called for another car."
Mr. Patil, however, ignored him and instead introduced him to me. "And this is Jayant patil COO of Harsh Constructions."

Like I cared. I had zero interest in knowing anything about him. So I turned back to Mr. Patil and continued, "You didn't even give us a chance."
Mr. Patil sighed. "We're on a tight schedule, we have somewhere important to be."
Before he could say more, his son scoffed. "Oh, now you finally understand? Dad.."

His words grated on my nerves. Irritated, I spun around to face him. "Can't you just stay quiet for a moment? Let the adults talk."
For the first time, he looked slightly taken aback, his gaze flickering elsewhere as if looking for support.
I turned back to Mr. Patil. "If you didn't have time, you shouldn't have scheduled interviews today. Or at least, you could have assigned the panel to someone else. This isn't fair. You hurriedly selected someone, but what if we were better than them?"

Mr. Patil's expression turned serious. After a moment of thought, he said, "Let's go inside. We'll conduct the remaining interviews."
His son looked at him in disbelief, but Mr. Patil had already made up his mind. Turning to him, he said firmly, "You don't need to stay. I'll handle this alone."

The COO, clearly frustrated, said nothing. He cast one last glance at his car, now covered in soil from the shattered pot. The dirt had spread across the windshield, even inside the car. He looked displeased, but honestly, I couldn't care less.

Meanwhile, the remaining candidates cheered up, relieved they'd finally get their chance.
As we walked back inside, I turned to Mr. Patil and said sincerely, "I'm sorry... for the car and for taking up your time."

Just before stepping inside the building, I pause, just to glancing back at Mr. COO. I threw him a look over my shoulder, a smirk dancing on my lips. "Kuch bura aapka bhi to ho" I said, soft but sharp-then walked in without looking back. ("Not everything should go your way, right?")

____________________________

An hour later, my interview was finally over. Feeling proud and satisfied, I walked out of the building, ready to head home.
Just then, a car slowly approached, crossing right in front of me.
The driver? None other than him-the same arrogant man (khadush). The COO.
His sharp gaze locked onto mine as he drove past, eyes burning with something unreadable. For a few seconds, he watched me, then the car disappeared down the road.

Brushing it off, I headed home.
Back at the apartment, I told Nandini Di everything-every dramatic detail of today's spectacle. She listened with amusement, laughing between bites of her snacks. Even her baby seemed to be enjoying the story from inside.
Then, she smirked. "What if they actually hire you? How will you face that 'khadus' every day?"

I was lounging on the sofa, lazily munching on chips. Without a second thought, I shrugged. "Not a chance. After the chaos I caused, there's no way they'd hire me."
"We'll see," she teased, heading toward the kitchen.
Just then, my phone buzzed with an email. One glance at the screen and I shot up from the sofa. My chips tumbled to the floor.
"What? No way!" I blurted out.
Di rushed over. "What happened?"
Wide-eyed, I turned to her, still in shock. "They... they hired me."

She burst into laughter. "Well, congratulations! Now you get to deal with Mr. Khadus every single day."
"If you don't want to, just decline the offer," she suggested.

But as I sank back into the sofa, I scoffed. "Why would I refuse? I'm not scared of him." ( Darti thodi hu Main kisi se)

Still, a thought nagged at me.
How did this even happen?
After everything that went down today, why would they still select me?
Unless... this was some kind of trap set by him.
_________________

Two Days Later - My First Day at Work
On my very first day, After being introduced to everyone, I was finally shown to my place-where my real journey began. There was a strange mix of nerves and anticipation swirling in my chest as they walked me through my responsibilities. I was assigned to hand-sketch the front elevation of a building.

I grabbed an A3 sheet from my desk, cleared some space, spread the sheet out, and got to work. Just as I was getting into the zone, Vijay approached me. "Do this in the other room," he suggested.
The room he led me to was small but designed specifically for architects-just a single table in the center, providing a perfect space for detailed drawings.

I settled in and focused entirely on my sketch, lost in the strokes of my pencil. But then, my pencil slipped from my fingers and rolled onto the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up, a polished shoe landed right on it, snapping it in half.
I looked up-of course, it was him.
Mr. Jayant Patil.

He casually stepped back, lifting his foot off my now-broken pencil. I picked up the pieces and placed them on the table. He didn't apologize. He didn't say a word.
Instead, he simply stood there, staring at my drawing.
I didn't say anything either, but the air in the room grew thick with tension.

After all, the last time we spoke, I had thrown a planter at his car. So yeah, awkward.
I debated whether I should apologize for the damage to his car. Not that I actually felt sorry, but he was my boss now. Like it or not, I'd have to say things I didn't always mean.
And for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that he had only hired me just to hear me say sorry.
Then, I heard his voice-calm yet taunting.
"You need improvement. Your drawing lacks detail."
"Excuse me?" I blinked, genuinely confused. I had spent so much time on this sketch that even a blind person could tell it was a front elevation of a building. And yet, he had the audacity to say it lacked details?

"Go to HR and collect a laptop," he continued, looking directly at me. "If you can't sketch properly by hand, maybe you'll manage with software."

I chose not to respond. Because, let's be honest, I couldn't reply politely, and since he was my boss, staying silent was the smarter move. So, I simply said, "Okay."

He turned to leave but stopped just as he reached the door. As if remembering something, he turned back, looking straight at me.
"Oh, and one more thing-pay ₹53,349."
I frowned. "For what?"
"For your information, do employees here have to bribe their boss before getting a salary?"

Shit. I said it before I could stop myself. A little filter, Shreya. Just a little.
His expression darkened with irritation. "Not a bribe. That's the cost of the windshield you broke a few days ago while trying to play hero. Or did you already forget?"
Oh, I remembered everything. And I wasn't about to let this go easily.
Matching his attitude, I crossed my arms. "I'm not paying for it."

His lips parted, about to argue, but I cut him off.
"It was just a windshield, not a piece of solid gold! Why is it so expensive? Huh? If it was an accident, I might have considered it, but I did it on purpose. So, nope. Not paying."

His eyes locked onto mine,
He leaned slightly, a smug glint in his eyes, and said with the same unshaken arrogance he carried yesterday,
"That was my car, of course it was expensive-what else did you expect?"
The way he said it, like luxury was stitched into his name, made my jaw tighten.
I swallowed. For a second, my breath felt heavier, but I held my ground.

"Next time, have the money ready," he stated before walking away.

I exhaled, still feeling the intensity of his presence lingering in the air.
Muttering under my breath, I grumbled, "You're not even paying me enough for this." ( Itna to tum mujhe salary bhi nhi de rahe ho)

Did he hear that? No idea. He didn't turn back.
But something told me... this wasn't over.
I just wanted the day to end quickly. Dealing with this grumpy, arrogant man was exhausting.

After office, I stood outside, waiting for my cab. Just then, a car passed in front of me. Wait... was that the same car I had smashed?
The tinted window rolled down, and there he was-Mr. Grumpy himself.
"How are you planning to get home, Miss...?" he asked in an annoyingly polite tone.

"My cab is on the way," I replied casually, secretly wondering if he was about to offer me a ride. Not that I would accept it. And definitely not in that car.
But instead, he smirked and said, "Take the metro. Save some money dear. Don't forget, you still owe me."

And just like that, he drove away.
I stood there, my frustration written all over my face.
So, he stopped just to remind me about the money? Unbelievable.

Ding dong ding dong...
"Open the door!" I started banging on it impatiently.
Finally, the door swung open, and there stood JJ, still wearing an apron-clearly straight from the kitchen.
Di was comfortably lounging on the sofa, casually snacking on something.
JJ raised an eyebrow. "What's the rush, sali sahiba?"

As I stepped inside, I shot a look at Di. "Rush!You were right here! You could have at least gotten up to open the-" Before I could finish, JJ cut me off. "Sali sahiba, enough! One day at work, and you're already so exhausted that you forgot your Di is pregnant?"

JJ always took Di's side. Even if she wasn't pregnant, he'd still defend her. Not that he was her husband-he just genuinely loved her.
Respecting his feelings, I sighed and muttered a quick, "Sorry," before plopping down next to Di, stretching out, and shutting my eyes.
Di gently ran her hand over mine. "What happened? You don't like the job?"
"It's not the job-it's the boss," I grumbled. "That arrogant, insufferable man."
Di smirked. "Interesting... out of all the things you could talk about, you've only been ranting about him." She was clearly teasing me.
"Ugh, Di! He's demanding that I pay for his stupid car!"

JJ, who had been quietly listening, suddenly jumped in. "Wait... you broke his car?"
Di never told him? I shot her a look, but she simply shrugged.

JJ shook his head. "Never mind. How much is he asking for? Just pay it and be done with it." He spoke so casually, as if it were his car that got wrecked.

"Phootie cowrie bhi na do usse main, Na abhi, aur na hi kabhi."
("I won't give him a single rupee. Not now, not ever," ) I declared, my voice steady but burning with rage. I snatched my bag from the sofa and stormed off to my room, leaving behind a tense silence. Di and JJ watched me go, then looked at each other, unable to hide their knowing smiles.
___

Next day, in the office drawing room, I was peacefully working on my laptop, earbuds in, music playing, completely in my zone.
Somewhere in the background, I faintly heard someone calling out, "Miss... Miss...." But since they didn't say my name, I didn't bother turning around. Just to be sure, I slowly pulled out one earbud, letting it dangle in my hand, trying to confirm if someone was actually calling me.
And then-
"Miss Architect."

The sudden loud voice right behind me startled me so badly that my earbud slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. I turned around sharply-only to find him standing there. That grumpy boss of mine, with his ever-so-stiff expression.
And he wasn't alone.

I barely had time to process the situation when he casually stepped on my fallen earbud. Not just stepped-he crushed it. On purpose.

Anger flared up inside me, but I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. He was my boss now. I had to endure.
Unbothered, he turned to the man beside him. "Ronit, this is our architect.. Miss.... Ar.. Architect."

He didn't even say my name. "Miss Architect"-is that what he calls an introduction now? My jaw tightened as I forced a smile, masking the sting.
"Just ignore him," I muttered to myself, trying to brush it off, even though his indifference clung to me like a bad aftertaste.

Ronit, a well-dressed, confident-looking man, smiled at me. I extended my hand. "Hello, Mr. Ronit..." Then, I gestured towards my beloved boss, signaling him to properly introduce himself.
"Roy," he said flatly.
I nodded. "Mr. Roy."
Ronit then looked at Jayant and said, "Aren't you going to introduce her properly?"

"Umm..huhh..sh..she"

For the first time, my boss hesitated, fumbling for words. Interesting. Before he could say something unnecessary, I quickly took charge.
"I'm MG Shreya Murti. You can call me Shreya... or Miss Murti."

Ronit smirked. "No, I think I'll stick with 'Miss Architect.' Your boss gave you such a unique name."

Wait. My boss came up with that name? I stared at Jayant in disbelief. Meanwhile, I had assigned him all sorts of ridiculous names in my head.
Before I could react, Jayant cut in, his voice firm. "You will address her as Miss Murti. That name is only for me."
Ronit raised an eyebrow. "Alright then. I hope 'Miss Murti' is okay with that?"
What was happening here? Why did this feel strangely tense?

I cleared my throat. "Yeah... that's fine."
Mr. Patil then got straight to business. "We need to visit the site. You'll be designing a house for Ronit."

And just like that, we were off to the site.
It was an under-construction building, but almost finished.
I frowned slightly. What am I even supposed to design here?
As if reading my thoughts, Mr. Patil said, "The interior. You'll be handling the interior design."
I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. The entire structure was already completed-I was just left with the finishing touches. But work was work.

After inspecting every corner of the building and discussing with Ronit about his interior preferences, Mr. Patil added, "You'll get the complete building drawings from the company."

With the site visit done, I walked towards the car, waiting for Jayant. Staring at the ground absentmindedly, I noticed a small worm crawling toward me. Not wanting to step on it, I instinctively took a step back-
And crashed directly into him.
His hands caught my shoulders instantly, steadying me before I could completely lose my balance.
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow down. His breath was warm against my shoulder. My heart pounded against my ribs.
Then, just as gently, he moved me away. My hair, caught slightly in his coat, slipped free as we separated.
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "What are you doing, Miss...?" He trailed off, stepping toward the driver's side.
But I wasn't letting this moment slide.

"Wait a minute." I turned to face him. "Why did you call me 'Miss Architect'?"
He paused, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
"Because... at that moment, I forgot your name."
I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer. Too close. "You forgot my name? You forgot me?"
Holding my gaze, he leaned in ever so slightly. "I forgot your name. But not you! how could I forget you?" I am freezed by his words.

And just like that, he turned away, slipping into the car and shutting the door behind him with a firm click.
I stood there, momentarily speechless.
"People can't forget me that easily."
Shaking off the strange flutter in my chest, I got into the car beside him.

The car came to a stop in front of a restaurant.
Mr. Patil casually announced, "I need to have lunch."
I raised a brow. With me? Seriously?
"You want to have lunch with me?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
He glanced around. "Do you see anyone else here? Do you have a problem with it?"
"No, why would I?" I replied, masking my reluctance.

The restaurant was grand-a five-star establishment. I had never been to a place like this before. We picked a table with a perfect view, but when I opened the menu, I was completely lost. The fancy dish names made no sense to me, so I decided to play it safe and simply asked the waiter to bring me whatever Mr. Patil had ordered.

When the food arrived, I was shocked-our table was overflowing with dishes.
"This is... a lot of food. There are only two of us," I pointed out.
He didn't respond. Instead, he just started eating, unfazed. I found it strange, but I shrugged and dug in as well.

Halfway through, he suddenly stopped eating. Coincidentally, I was also full by then-but there was still so much food left on the table.
The waiter approached and asked, "Would you like the leftovers packed?"
Before I could say anything, Mr. Patil shook his head. "No."

I stared at him. Seriously? This much food wasted? But before I could comment, the bill arrived.
And then-he looked straight at me.
I hesitated. "Wait... don't you have a company card? You should pay with that."
"I forgot to bring it," he replied nonchalantly.

I scoffed. "You forgot? You forget everything! You should start eating almonds to improve your memory."
His eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"
Realizing my mistake, I quickly changed tactics, switching to a sweet tone. "I mean... you should pay for it. This amount isn't a big deal for you, right?"
He leaned back, smirking. "No. You will pay. But you can get it reimbursed from the company later."
"Reimbursed?" I repeated, weighing my options. Fine, whatever.

I reluctantly paid the bill, but as soon as I saw the amount, my heart sank.
Well... there goes my bank balance.
But before we left, I quietly signaled the waiter.
"Please pack the leftovers," I told him firmly.
I had paid for this meal-there was no way I was letting all that food go to waste.
_____________________

I had brought the leftover food to the office-not just to avoid wasting it, but maybe also to make some kind of peace offering to the space that still felt alien to me. To my surprise, it worked better than I expected. People smiled. They talked. They laughed.

For the first time, I wasn't just the new girl with an attitude. I was someone they could joke with over biryani and butter naan. That afternoon, amidst half-eaten plates and casual banter, something shifted.
began to feel... a little less lonely. Maybe even a little warm.
Just a little.

Later that evening, I stood outside waiting for my cab, arms crossed against the light breeze, earbuds in but no music playing-just silence to match my thoughts. And then, like a scene that insisted on repeating itself, he passed by.
Mr. Jayant Patil.

Of course. Same sleek black vehicle, same perfectly impassive face behind the tinted glass. And of course, his eyes were on me again-sharp, unreadable, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't remember putting together.
Our eyes met for a fleeting second.
Not a word. Not a nod. Just a look.
It wasn't even dramatic. It was worse-it was routine.
And maybe that's what annoyed me the most.
I looked away before he did.
And hated myself for doing it.
_______.•.

As soon as I entered the flat, I headed straight to my room-no small talk, no lingering glances, just closed the door behind me like it was some kind of shield.

Living with a couple is... strange.
Not bad. Not exactly uncomfortable. Just... confusing.
You never really know where the lines are.
What's okay to say, and what isn't.
When to joke, when to be quiet.
You don't want to intrude, but you're always right there-in the background of their love story.

Sometimes, I hear them laughing together in the kitchen. Other times, there's a whisper-soft silence between them, like a language only they understand. And I-I just float between walls and rooms, trying not to feel like the awkward third paragraph in someone else's poem.

I didn't even want to come here in the first place.
But I didn't ask for this either. Amma sent me here with that stubborn kind of love only she knows how to give. She didn't ask, just decided. "Better if you stay with your sister, thoda sambhal jayegi," she said.

I tried telling her it'd be for a few months only. I said it lightly, like it didn't matter. But deep down, I was already counting the days.

If nothing else, it gives me a reason to get up in the morning, to put on clothes, to walk among strangers and pretend I belong. Delhi doesn't feel like mine. Not yet. No friends. No places that know my name. Just unfamiliar faces and roads that don't remember me.
Delhi is beautiful, yes. But beautiful things can still feel lonely when you're not part of them.

Sometimes I wonder if Di and JJ feel suffocated by my presence too.
Do they miss their privacy? Do they wish I'd leave sooner?
Pregnancy is supposed to be such an intimate time. Do couples even... romance during it? Probably. I don't know. What do I know?

I sigh, staring at the cracks in the ceiling of this unfamiliar room that I'm supposed to call home for the next few months.
Just a few more months.
That's all.

The next morning, I woke up with zero energy. My body felt like lead and my thoughts were dragging behind like wet clothes on a line. But staying in the room wasn't an option. If I didn't go to work, I'd be stuck with my thoughts and with lovely couple-and worse, JJ had taken the day off.

So I dragged myself to the office, barely functioning, surviving on autopilot. First thing, I folded the restaurant bill in half, glued it to a plain sheet, and scribbled the purpose in shaky handwriting: Lunch with Mr. Patil - Company Engagement. I signed it and gave it to Vijay with a simple instruction: "Please get this signed by the boss."

A few minutes later, Vijay returned, visibly uncomfortable. "He refused."
I frowned. "What do you mean, refused?"
"He said the company doesn't cover personal meals."

A sharp bitterness crept up my throat. Without thinking twice, I stood up and stormed to Mr. Patil's cabin. I didn't bother to knock. I pushed the door open and stood right in front of him, eyes burning.

"Why didn't you sign the bill?"
He looked up calmly, the picture of professionalism. "Which bill?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Which bill? The lunch bill from yesterday!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Lunch?"
"Yes, lunch. You really should start eating almonds-your memory is unbelievable."

A slow, mocking smile crept across his face. "Ah, yes. That. But wasn't that lunch... personal?"

I blinked. "You told me to pay and said I could get it reimbursed."
"Oh," he said, with mock surprise. "No, you can't. You didn't have lunch with a client, remember?"
"I had it with you!"
"Exactly. That was just lunch. Not business." He leaned back. "It didn't benefit the company, Miss architect. It only benefitted... me. So either you were trying to impress.. me, or..."
I clenched my fists. "I wasn't trying to impress you. You invited me!"
"And you paid," he said with an almost smug smile.

For a moment, my mind froze. Wait... was he-was he playing me? I had walked right into this. My cheeks flushed with a mix of rage and humiliation.

(Aapne mujhe fasaya hai)
"You trapped me," I said, my voice lower now, trembling.

He stood from his chair slowly and began walking toward me. His expression had shifted-less smug, more unreadable. I instinctively stepped back until I felt the cold press of the wall against my spine. There was nowhere else to go.
(Maine tumhe fasaya?)
"I trapped you?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
(Ya tumne mujhe fasaya)"Or did you trap me?"
"What?" I swallowed. "No. You tricked me."
"Oh really?" he said, stepping closer, his eyes locked on mine. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Every part of me wanted to bolt, but I couldn't move. I wouldn't show fear.

But I wasn't someone who gives up easily. (Main aapko chhodungi nhi)
"I won't let you go," I said, firmly.
(Aur chhodne ko kaha bhi kisne hai?)
"And who said I want to be let go?" he replied, his voice calm but piercing.

I chose not to pay attention to his words-it felt unnecessary. I pushed past him, brushing his arm as I made my way toward the door. Without another glance, I started to walk, determined to leave this frustrating man behind.
But then his voice echoed from behind, stopping me in my tracks.
(Chhodne ke liye pahle pakdna hota hai. miss. architect.)
"To let go, one has to hold on first... Miss Architect."
I froze.
Was he seriously flirting with me? This arrogant, grumpy man?

I turned slightly, just enough to see him holding out his hand towards me, as if inviting me back.
I looked at his hand for a long moment.
And then I turned fully, ignored it, and walked out without a single word.
I didn't need more confusion. I didn't need more games.
Not from him. Not now.

_______
🫶