The morning was already rough. I had barely slept after last night's party, thanks to the constant replay of my interaction with Amartya in my head. But as soon as I stepped into the office, the headache from last night felt like a warm-up for the absolute circus waiting for me.
I walked through the glass doors of my brand's headquarters, and immediately, I could sense something was off. There was a frantic buzz around the office—everyone looked like they were either trying to avoid my gaze or were a second away from a nervous breakdown. My assistant, Priya, ran up to me, looking frazzled as hell.
"Maya," she said, her voice strained. "We've got a situation."
I let out a long breath. "Of course we do. What is it now?"
"Some of the fabric for the fall collection hasn't arrived. And, um... four workers called in sick. Actually, make that five."
I closed my eyes for a beat. "Tell me this is some kind of joke."
Priya's grim expression said otherwise. "Wish I could, but no."
"Un-freaking-believable," I muttered, storming toward the meeting room where my design team was waiting for me. The anger was bubbling up, but I kept a lid on it for now. I didn't have time to fall apart—I had a brand to run. A successful one, at that.
Inside the room, my team was sitting around the large table, nervously shifting in their seats. They must've known what was coming.
I wasted no time. "Alright, let's see what you've got for the new collection."
My head designer, Nishita, passed me the sketches, looking more than a little nervous. I scanned through them, and my mood went from irritated to absolutely livid. I could feel the vein in my forehead starting to pulse.
I threw the designs back onto the table, leaning forward with my hands splayed on the glass surface. "Are these designs? I mean, are we making a brand or are we just straight-up copy-pasting from Pinterest? Because right now, it looks like I hired a team of glorified high schoolers with a C- in art class."
Nishita shifted in her seat, trying to speak up. "Maya, these are just drafts—"
"Drafts?" I cut her off, my tone sharp. "Do you know how much time we have before these need to be on the runway? Three weeks. That's twenty-one days. And this is what you bring me?"
The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.
"Look," I said, pacing the room now, my frustration spilling out. "I didn't bust my ass to build this brand from the ground up just so we can put out something that looks like it belongs on a Zara sale rack."
I could feel the eyes on me as I walked around the table. "If I wanted to settle for mediocrity, I would've stayed in that dead-end consulting job where people's biggest idea of innovation was ordering quinoa salads for lunch."
One of the junior designers raised her hand like she was in school or something. "Uh, Maya, I think we were trying to go for something that appeals to the—"
"The what? The 'I saw this on Instagram and decided to make it my personality' crowd?" I snapped back. "No. We are trendsetters. Not trend followers. I want to see originality, people! I need fresh ideas. I need you to be innovative. I need you to make something that makes people stop scrolling and actually take a second look."
Priya, bless her soul, stepped in to try and diffuse the tension. "We'll regroup and come up with something stronger, Maya. I'll personally make sure we have the right materials to work with."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Yeah, well, let's hope we even get the damn fabric. And pray to the fashion gods that we can actually keep our workforce intact for more than a day."
Nishita spoke up again, her voice hesitant. "We've been under a lot of pressure. Maybe we just need a little more time—"
I cut her off, raising a hand. "No. We don't need more time. We need to step it up. This is the industry we're in, Nishita. It's cutthroat. You either bring your A-game, or you go home. And right now? This isn't even close to a passing grade."
I took a deep breath, trying to dial down the intensity before I scared my whole team into quitting. "Look, I get it. It's stressful. I'm stressed too. But that's what this game is. High stakes, high pressure. But you're all talented as hell. So, I need you to start showing it."
The room was quiet again. I could see the nervous energy vibrating off everyone, but I didn't care. They needed to understand that this wasn't just some fun side project. This was my brand. My baby.
I pushed away from the table. "Okay, take five. Get some coffee, or whatever you need to do. Then get back here and show me something that'll blow my mind. I'm talking next-level stuff. We're not making clothes; we're making art. We're making statements. So, act like it."
I walked out of the room, Priya hot on my heels.
"That was... intense," she said, a bit hesitantly.
I rubbed my temples. "It had to be. We're cutting it way too close. I'm not about to have my brand's reputation tank because we decided to play it safe."
"You sure you're okay?" Priya asked.
"Yeah," I said, but my voice lacked conviction. Honestly, I felt like I was holding on by a thread. Between the fabric disaster, the team flaking, and just the general stress of running a business, it was all a bit too much.
Not to mention the whole Amartya thing still lingering in the back of my mind. I mean, what the hell was that about? It's like I couldn't even focus on work without my brain wandering back to him and our little chat last night. It was like trying to avoid thinking about a song stuck in your head—impossible.
But this was not the time for personal drama. I had a business to run. And if that meant going full-on Miranda Priestly to get shit done, then so be it.
As I headed back to my office, I glanced at my phone. There was a text from Aarohi, asking how my day was going. I snorted at the screen.
"Just another day in paradise," I muttered sarcastically to myself, slipping the phone back into my bag.
Because really, what could go wrong next? Only natural crisis to struck down this building and eat me alive. "Ohh God save me" I loudly sighed out of frustration.
I swear, sometimes it feels like the universe just has it out for me.After the ridiculous day I had, with fabric delays, workers mysteriously "falling ill," and a design team that apparently thinks "originality" means Googling shit from Pinterest, I was hanging by a thread. By the time I got everyone out of my face and the office quieted down, my brain was practically melting.
It's like, no matter how much you try to prepare, some days just decide to come at you swinging.And here I am, exhausted as hell, just wanting to disappear for the night. But instead, I'm staring at my phone, debating if I should call him.
I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. As much as I wanted to go home and collapse on my bed, the idea of being alone with my thoughts sounded even worse. What I really needed was some fun. Something—or someone—to take my mind off the never-ending stress of my life.
Just then my phone lit up from a text from Aarohi, and now I can't ignore as I already ignored one in the afternoon cause I was busy.
Aarohi:
Still alive? Or should I start planning your funeral?
I rolled my eyes, smirking at her sarcastic humor. I typed a quick reply.
Maya:
Barely. Today was a shit show.
I hit send and tossed the phone aside, sighing deeply. And started thinking again that should I call him or should I drop this idea because of how desperate I would look.
But am I being desperate? I am desperate."Ugh, get a grip," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. What was the big deal? I could call a guy. It wasn't like I was asking him to marry me. I just wanted to hang out. Maybe grab a drink and unwind.
With a deep breath, I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear. The line rang twice before he picked up."Hello?" Amartya's voice came through the phone, sounding casual and relaxed.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound nonchalant and not like I'd spent the last five minutes having a mini internal freakout over whether or not to call him. "What are you up to?"
"Uh, nothing much. Just about to meet some friends for drinks. What's up?"
I bit my lip, debating my next move. Was this a bad idea? Whatever, it was too late to back out now. "I was actually wondering if you were free later? I could really use a drink after today."
"Yeah?" He chuckled softly. "Rough day?"
"You have no idea. Half my workforce decided to bail, and the rest apparently think Pinterest is the pinnacle of design innovation." She rubbed her forehead, feeling the stress headache starting to creep in again. "So yeah. I'm in desperate need of alcohol."
"Sounds like a plan," he said easily. "I'm meeting my friends at that bar we went to last night. I'll be free in about an hour if you wanna swing by."
"Perfect," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I'll finish up here and meet you there."
"Cool. See you then," Amartya replied before hanging up.
I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone. I felt a strange mix of excitement and relief wash over me. There was something about Amartya that just... made me feel lighter. Less weighed down by the crap I was dealing with. And God knew I needed that right now.
I grabbed my bag and stood up, stretching out my stiff limbs before heading out of the office. As I made my way to the elevator, I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. What a weird, unpredictable day this had been. And now here I am, about to meet up with a guy who I'm a sucker for, just because I needed to blow off some steam.But hey, maybe that was exactly what I needed—something unexpected. Something that wasn't planned down to the last detail. Maybe for once, I could let myself just... go with the flow.
As the elevator doors closed behind me, I felt felt a spark of anticipation in my chest.