AR Designs –
The projector whirred like a nervous intern. Graphs blinked across the screen—revenue curves, cotton blend projections, bar charts about Punjab exports. Each slide died a silent, unnoticed death.
Executives sat with frozen smiles and stiff collars, pens poised like nervous squirrels ready to flee. Nobody dared to breathe too loudly.
Because at the head of the table sat Arnav Singh Raizada.
Sharp in a charcoal suit. Sleeves rolled halfway up. Hair tousled just enough to be illegal.
And utterly distracted.
His eyes weren't on the screen. Not on the files. Not even on the room.
They were locked on a single thread on his cuff. Frayed. Out of place.
Like him.
> "Sir?" Aman ventured, voice low but brave.
Arnav didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
Because he could still see her. Khushi Kumari Gupta.
Eyes blazing. Dupatta flying. Voice trembling with anger and truth.
> She said I confused jalebis with emotions. Like I was the one unraveling.
> Like I was the one who couldn't breathe unless she looked at me.
Aman cleared his throat, louder this time.
> "Should we move to the Punjab export report?"
Click.
Arnav snapped out of his trance. Sat upright. Adjusted his cuff.
His voice was low. Clipped. Dangerous.
> "Cancel all meetings after 3."
Executives glanced at each other nervously. Aman stiffened.
> "Sir, the minister is expecting—"
> "He can wait. I need fabric."
Aman blinked.
Fabric?
That wasn't on the calendar.
But Aman knew better.
"Fabric" meant her. Khushi. The boutique. The girl who insulted his shoes, his ego, and his emotional control in the span of five minutes.
And the boardroom knew it. Even if they didn't know who she was.
Aman nodded quickly, scribbling notes he didn't understand.
> "Of course, Sir. Shall I have the car—?"
Arnav stood. Smooth. Focused. Dangerous.
> "No need. I'll go myself."
He walked out without another word. Leaving behind a room full of executives wondering if they'd just witnessed a midlife crisis.
Aman, still sweating, whispered to himself:
> "We're all doomed. The man's buying feelings by the meter now."
And just like that, the boardroom returned to silence.
Except this time… it was terrified silence.
Because Arnav Singh Raizada had left a cotton export meeting.
For fabric.
-----
Gupta Boutique – 10:15 AM
The sun filtered in through lace curtains. Soft Bollywood music played from a tiny radio.
Payal arranged embroidered stoles.
Khushi argued with a thread spool.
Buaji stirred chai and suspicion in equal measure.
> Ding-ling!
The bell chimed like destiny had arrived with a smirk.
Khushi didn't look up.
> "Jiji, if that's the dye guy again—tell him last time's lavender looked like a papaya bruise—"
> "Not the dye guy, sweetheart," a voice purred. "Definitely not."
Khushi's hand froze mid-air.
Payal's eyes nearly fell out of her face.
Buaji made the sign of the cross with a rolling pin.
In walked Lavanya Kashyap, wearing power sunglasses and sarcasm like perfume.
And right behind her?
Anjali Raizada, serene in pastel pink, smile delicate, but gaze sharp.
> "Gupta Boutique?" Anjali asked politely.
Khushi stepped forward, cautious.
> "Yes? You are?"
> "Anjali Raizada. And this—"
Lavanya dropped her shades dramatically.
"Is your friendly neighborhood chaos delivery system."
> "Huh?" Khushi blinked.
> "She means Lavanya," Anjali clarified with a sigh. "We're… connected to Arnav."
All three Guptas blinked.
Buaji squinted.
> "Raizada? As in—Jalebi Courier? Staring-at-my-bitiya like a hungry jackal Raizada?!"
Lavanya smirked.
> "So he has been weird here too."
Khushi stammered.
> "Wait—you came here? Why? How?"
> "To meet the girl who made ASR act like Devdas on LinkedIn," Lavanya said, casually leaning on a mannequin.
Payal whispered from behind,
> "Do we offer chai in these situations… or fire extinguishers?"
Buaji stepped forward, still holding her rolling pin like a shotgun.
> "You may have money, but hum Gupta parivaar ke izzat mein bas ghee nahi daalte—unless it's laddoos. Or rishtas."
Lavanya chuckled.
> "Is she adoptable?"
Khushi facepalmed.
> "Please leave. Before he shows up and accuses me of some industrial-level conspiracy—"
> Ding-ling.
Too late.
Enter: Arnav Singh Raizada.
Black shirt. Watch glinting like a threat. Expression unreadable.
He paused at the threshold.
Saw everyone.
Locked eyes with her.
Did not blink.
Anjali straightened, surprised.
Lavanya whispered:
> "Ooooh, someone's been tracking GPS and emotions."
Arnav's gaze scanned the room like a military drone.
His voice? Low. Dangerous. Velvet wrapped around steel.
> "What… are you doing here?"
—Not to Khushi.
To his sister.
Anjali, unfazed, sipped from Buaji's steel cup.
> "Meeting your… investor?"
Arnav stepped forward, eyes never leaving Khushi.
> "You weren't supposed to come here."
Lavanya leaned in.
> "You weren't supposed to fall in love with a boutique girl, but here we are."
Buaji slammed her spoon on the counter.
> "Love?! Who said love?! Jalebi isn't love!"
Khushi, red-faced:
> "Can everyone please stop saying 'jalebi' like it's a proposal?!"
Arnav finally turned to her.
His eyes were molten. Unreadable.
And yet… trembling with restraint.
" he asked.
Khushi folded her arms.
He stepped closer.
> "Liar."
Buaji gasped. Payal ducked. Lavanya practically clapped.
Anjali cleared her throat, gracefully interrupting the electricity.
> "Chhote. Apologize."
He blinked.
> "For calling her a liar? Or for falling for her?"
Silence.
Everyone froze.
Even the radio fizzed out.
Then… chaos.
> Buaji: "HAI RE NANDKISHORE!" Payal: "Can I faint now or later?" Lavanya: "And that's my cue to live-tweet this."
The silence in the boutique was a living, breathing thing now—tensed like a violin string ready to snap.
Arnav's last words "For calling her a liar? Or for falling for her?" hung in the air like perfume—intoxicating and impossible to ignore.
Khushi's heart somersaulted, but her spine stayed straight.
She folded her arms. Defensive. Furious. Too aware.
> Khushi (coolly): "You didn't fall. You barged in. Like a spreadsheet with ego issues."
Lavanya choked on her gum. Payal's mouth was open in silent shock.
Buaji? Buaji was already planning this Raizada boy's last rites with her rolling pin.
Arnav's eyes narrowed—like a storm narrowing down its target.
> Arnav (quietly): "You think this is ego?"
> Khushi: "It isn't? Sending jalebis in the dead of night? Marching into my boutique like a one-man SWAT team?"
> Arnav: "That wasn't ego. That was control."
That stopped her.
> Khushi (blinking): "What?"
> Arnav (stepping closer): "You confuse arrogance with effort. You mock control because you've never needed it."
Khushi took a step back. But he followed, each word darker than the last.
> Arnav: "Do you know what it's like to want someone so badly, you measure their smile like market data? You track your own pulse when they look at you?"
> Lavanya (to Payal, whispering): "He's either proposing or about to buy this boutique. Either way, we need popcorn."
> Payal (barely breathing): "Is he always like this?"
> Lavanya: "Only when he's in love or a merger is failing. And this merger? Oh, it's messy."
Anjali gently set down her cup and stepped between her brother and Khushi like a social firewall.
> Anjali (calmly): "Chhote, she deserves peace. Not pressure."
> Buaji (fuming): "And privacy! You barge into my house, my shop, now what? My kitchen next?!"
> Arnav (to Buaji, softly but seriously): "I'm not here to make a mess. I'm here to… understand the damage I've already done."
> Buaji: "Good. Then start with soap and repentance."
Khushi shook her head, overwhelmed and betrayed by her own flushed cheeks.
> Khushi (to Arnav): "You think words fix this? You call me a liar in front of everyone then drop poetic business proposals like I'm supposed to melt?"
> Arnav (dangerous calm): "You didn't melt."
> Khushi (hurt rising): "No. I burned."
That silence returned.
But now it wasn't heavy.
It was… sacred. Loaded.
Like the hush in temples before someone confesses.
Arnav broke it—low voice, stripped of armor.
> Arnav: "Then let me burn too."
The boutique was dead silent.
Even Buaji didn't interrupt.
Even the mannequin in the corner looked scandalized.
Anjali gently reached for Lavanya's phone.
> Anjali (to Lavanya): "No Instagram."
> Lavanya: "But the drama, Di…"
> Anjali: "Later."
> Buaji (sniffing): "And no laddoo deliveries unless someone proposes properly—with family, haldi, and that golden thali we got from Bikaner."
Arnav exhaled sharply. A smirk just touching his lips. But his eyes stayed locked on Khushi.
> Arnav: "I'm not here to propose."
> Khushi (relieved and annoyed): "Good."
> Arnav (softly): "Not today."
Khushi glared at him, fire in her eyes. But her heart?
It fluttered.
The war was still on.
But the battlefield?
Now had feelings all over it.
---