The Woman Who Smiled Too Easily
Rachel Parulkar did not believe in coincidence.
She stood near the window of the café overlooking the city, perfectly composed, fingers wrapped around a porcelain cup she had no intention of drinking from. Her reflection stared back at her—polished, confident, accustomed to getting what she wanted.
Ranveer Sign had always been one of those things.
"You're staring," her assistant murmured.
Rachel smiled. "I'm assessing."
The door opened.
Najma stepped inside.
Rachel's eyes sharpened.
So this was her.
No designer arrogance. No desperate need for attention. Just calm.
That calm irritated her more than anything else.
Najma had agreed to the meeting out of courtesy.
"She wishes to congratulate you," Ranveer had said. "Nothing more."
Najma believed him.
She always believed what was said plainly.
Rachel rose gracefully as Najma approached.
"Najma Takur," she greeted warmly. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," Najma replied politely.
They sat.
Rachel leaned forward slightly. "Ranveer speaks highly of you."
Najma paused. "That surprises me."
Rachel laughed lightly. "It shouldn't. Men admire what they can't control."
Najma met her gaze calmly. "And what is it you believe he can't control?"
Rachel smiled wider. "You."
The word lingered.
They spoke of harmless things—charity events, family gatherings, the city. Rachel's tone was friendly, but her eyes never softened.
"Do you know," Rachel said casually, "that Ranveer and I were once very close?"
Najma's expression didn't change.
"I didn't," she said simply.
Rachel tilted her head. "Doesn't that bother you?"
Najma considered the question. "People have pasts."
Rachel's smile faltered—just for a second.
"You're very secure," she observed.
"I'm very aware," Najma corrected.
Across the café, Ranveer watched from a distance, something uneasy tightening in his chest.
Rachel's laugh rang too loud.
Najma's voice remained steady.
He had underestimated this meeting.
Rachel finally leaned back.
"I hope you don't misunderstand me," she said. "I only want what's best for Ranveer."
Najma folded her hands neatly. "So do I."
Their eyes locked.
A quiet challenge passed between them.
Rachel rose first. "Then I suppose we'll see who knows him better."
Najma stood as well. "Perhaps."
Rachel extended her hand.
Najma shook it.
Rachel's grip tightened briefly—meant to intimidate.
Najma didn't flinch.
Later that night, Ranveer found Najma in the library.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Civil," she replied.
He studied her. "Did she say anything… unnecessary?"
Najma met his gaze. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
Something in her tone eased him.
But elsewhere, Rachel stared at her phone, eyes dark.
"She's not weak," she muttered.
Which only made things more interesting.