MY CRUEL LOVE.
A Spark Of Talent : A Burn Of Envy.
Huni ki bolte chai… hami ta shunte chai, Mr. Harman," Mr. Daniel said, his Bengali thick and hesitant. ("Tell me what you want to say… I'd like to hear it.")
Maya's head snapped up, startled. Armaan's jaw tightened. Abir gave her a nod of quiet encouragement.
"Go ahead, Maya," he said. "Say what you were going to."
Maya hesitated, then took a breath.
"Actually. I think the saree design could be more impactful with a few adjustments."
Disha, the head designer, scoffed.
"Excuse me? You're a maid. Who are you to critique my work?"
Maya lowered her eyes, embarrassed—but before she could respond, Abir spoke up firmly.
"Enough, Miss Disha. She may work for Armaan, but she's my sister. Show some respect."
Armaan interjected sharply, "This is a professional meeting. Let's keep it that way."
Mr. Daniel turned to Maya, intrigued.
"What's your name?"
"Maya Talukdar," she replied softly.
"Well, Miss Maya," he said, smiling, "I'd like to hear your suggestions."
A calm, unexpected confidence came over her.
"The embroidery's beautiful—but everything blends too much. The yellow base, the black lace, the blouse—it lacks contrast. There's no focal point. Here's what I suggest."
She outlined her ideas with clarity and flair:
Option 1: "Invert the lace colors—black lace with yellow embroidery. Keep the blouse plain with lace on the sleeves and just a touch around the neckline."
Option 2: "Keep the original lace, but edge it with yellow piping. Pair with a plain black blouse. That contrast will give it a layered, elegant look."
Mr. Daniel's eyes gleamed. "Brilliant. Can you show me a sketch?"
Maya nodded. "Yes, I can."
Even Armaan looked taken aback.
"You've got thirty minutes," he said flatly, sliding a laptop toward her.
Abir stood, offering her his seat. Mr. Daniel smiled warmly. "Shall we eat while she works?"
As lunch arrived—home-cooked and aromatic—Mr. Daniel looked delighted.
"Is this Bengali food? I've never had anything authentic!"
"All made by Maya," Abir said proudly. "You'll love it."
While the others ate, Maya stayed focused, sketching with sharp, precise strokes. Her fingers moved quickly, her mind fully engaged.
Armaan couldn't ignore how much Daniel praised the food—or how calmly Maya worked under pressure. It annoyed him. Though he didn't show it.
After lunch, Maya stood and handed Daniel the laptop.
"The designs are ready."
He scrolled through silently, then broke into a wide smile.
"Outstanding! You've preserved the original theme but made it cleaner and more striking."
Turning to Armaan, he said, "I want her on my project."
Armaan hesitated. "She's not a certified designer. She hasn't taken any formal course."
"That may be," Daniel replied, "but the work speaks for itself."
Abir added, "Actually, she has. Maya completed a design course and worked as a lead designer at a boutique. Your boss just never cared to ask."
Armaan turned to Maya, visibly stunned. She'd once mentioned having a job, but he'd never pressed.
Disha, seething, snapped, "She's still just a maid!"
Daniel held up a hand, voice calm but final.
"That's enough, Miss Disha. You're no longer required. Please leave."
Abir added bluntly, "Don't call us—we'll call you."
Face flushed with rage, Disha stormed out.
Abir turned to Maya. "Do you have any of your old work?"
She pulled out her phone and showed her portfolio—bold, creative, original. Daniel's expression lit up.
"If she joins this project, I'll sign the deal today."
Even Armaan, despite himself, looked impressed.
He turned to Maya.
"Would you be interested in joining the team officially?"
She blinked, confused. "But… I took an advance from you—as a domestic worker. What about that?"
Abir shot Armaan a sharp look. "That's exactly what I was wondering."
Armaan's voice was cold. "You'll still work at home as per our agreement—but you've earned a place on the design team, too. It's unconventional, but you'll manage.
Daniel nodded in approval. "Perfect. I'll return in one week. I want a hundred designs ready."
As he left, he shook hands with Armaan, then turned to Maya.
"I look forward to seeing more of your work."
Maya smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Daniel. Safe travels."
Once the door shut behind him, Armaan turned back to her.
"So, Miss Talukdar. Think you can handle the pressure?"
Maya gave a wry smile. "You said I'd be paid, didn't you? And you know I'll do anything… for the right price."
Armaan's gaze darkened. "Yes. I've learned that about you.
You've got talent, I'll give you that. But this isn't a game. This project is worth millions. I won't tolerate mistakes."
"You won't get any," she replied, chin held high.
"Good. Be here tomorrow with your documents."
"Yes, sir."
Just then Abir returned with a grin.
"So? You're officially one of us now?"
Maya smiled. "How could I pass up a chance like this?"
"Great. But first—food. You didn't eat a bite. Then we'll pick up your stuff and head to Shahriar Mansion—Armaan's estate."
"I can go on my own—"
"Nope," Abir said. "My car, my treat. End of discussion."
Armaan watched their friendly banter from a distance, face unreadable. The ease between them—the laughter, the closeness—it got under his skin.
"You two seem to have everything figured out," he muttered, then turned and walked away, fists clenched.
Something twisted inside him. Jealousy? Regret?
He didn't know. He just knew he hated how she smiled at someone else.
To Be Continued..