The first light of dawn crept through the sheer curtains, painting the walls of Aarohi's room in soft hues of gold and lavender. Her phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table, but for once, it wasn't the blaring alarm that pulled her from sleep. She was already awake, her heart carrying an inexplicable sense of resolve.
Today felt different.
Sliding out of bed, Aarohi stretched her arms high above her head, letting out a small, satisfied yawn. The faint melody of a song drifted into her mind, and she began humming it absentmindedly as she shuffled toward the bathroom. The cool splash of water against her face was refreshing, like a reset button for her soul. Her toothbrush moved in rhythm with her tune, the hum turning into soft singing, her voice carrying a playful lilt.
For a girl who usually dreaded mornings, this was a rare moment of serenity.
Her steps felt lighter as she navigated her morning routine, each task flowing seamlessly into the next. The usual scramble—misplaced combs, hurried decisions about outfits—was replaced with a calm precision. Aarohi moved with the kind of purpose that made everything seem effortless, a quiet confidence exuding from her every motion.
She stood before her wardrobe, fingers grazing over the hangers until she settled on a deep red blouse. The fabric was soft, the color bold, and as she paired it with sleek black slacks, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Aarohi paused, running her hands down the blouse, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.
Her hair was next, and she pulled it into a neat bun, the strands twisting gracefully into place. With every small adjustment—a dab of perfume, a swipe of lip balm—she began to feel like a different version of herself. Someone more poised, more assured.
Finally, she stepped back and gave herself one last, critical glance in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, her lips curving into a small, self-assured smile.
Grabbing her bag, Aarohi headed for the door. The world outside awaited, and for the first time in a long time, she felt ready to face it. Her steps were brisk, purposeful, her confidence shining as brightly as the sunlight breaking through the morning haze.
The soft hum of conversations died down as the team shuffled into the conference room. The conference room gradually filled with the low murmur of voices and the soft rustle of papers as the team took their seats around the long, polished table. The air was thick with anticipation, a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension as they waited for the boss to arrive.
Aarohi sat near the middle, her fingers lightly drumming on her notebook, her pen poised to jot down details. The hum of conversations faded the moment their boss entered the room, his sharp, no-nonsense demeanor instantly commanding attention.
He strode to the head of the table, adjusted his tie, and placed a folder in front of him with deliberate precision. Clearing his throat, he scanned the room with a measured gaze, ensuring he had everyone's undivided focus before speaking.
"Good afternoon, everyone," he began, his tone brisk and to the point. "We have a major event on the horizon—a food contest that will involve restaurants from across the city. It's going to be one of the most ambitious projects we've taken on, and I expect nothing less than excellence from each of you."
The room was silent, save for the faint scratching of pens on paper as everyone hurried to take notes. Aarohi leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued.
"This event," the boss continued, "isn't just about showcasing culinary talent; it's about creating connections, building our reputation, and proving we can execute on a grand scale. Each of you will be assigned specific areas to oversee. Your role will be to liaise with the restaurants in your jurisdiction, coordinate their participation, and ensure their needs are met efficiently."
He gestured toward his assistant, who stepped forward with a stack of neatly printed lists. One by one, they were handed out to the team, each page detailing the restaurants under their charge.
Aarohi accepted her list, her eyes quickly scanning the names. For a moment, everything seemed straightforward—until her gaze snagged on a familiar name.
Zaika Culinary House.
Her stomach dropped, and her grip on the paper tightened. She barely heard the rest of the boss's instructions as her mind replayed yesterday's encounter with the enigmatic chef and the mortifying glass-of-water incident.
The boss's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "You're all professionals, and I trust you to handle your assignments with the utmost diligence. Let's make this event a success."
As the meeting concluded and her colleagues began to disperse, Aarohi remained seated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper. Her pulse quickened at the thought of walking into that restaurant again, facing him.
But there was no avoiding it. She sighed, steeling herself as she folded the list and tucked it into her notebook. This was work, and she was determined to handle it with professionalism—even if her heart insisted on racing at the thought of what lay ahead.
Aarohi let out a deep sigh, trying to shake off the growing knot of anxiety in her chest. She sat upright and reached for her water bottle, taking a long sip to steady her nerves. Get it together, she told herself. It's just another restaurant, another assignment. Nothing to panic about.
But even as she tried to rationalize it, her mind was a battlefield of self-doubt and awkward scenarios. She could already picture herself walking into Zaika, fumbling her words, tripping over her feet, or worse—meeting those piercing eyes again. His expression, cool and detached, haunted her more than she cared to admit.
What's wrong with me? Aarohi groaned inwardly. He's just a chef. A good-looking, intimidating, probably super-judgmental chef, but still just a chef. He probably doesn't even remember me.
But that nagging voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced. What if he does? What if he's been secretly waiting for me to walk through those doors, just so he can remind me how I embarrassed myself?
Aarohi shook her head sharply. "Stop it," she muttered under her breath. Her desk mate glanced over, eyebrows raised in question, but Aarohi just gave a quick, sheepish smile and went back to staring at her list.
The letters on the page seemed to blur together, but that one name stood out in bold relief. Zaika. It was taunting her now, daring her to walk in tomorrow with even a shred of dignity.
She grabbed her planner and flipped it open, jotting down notes to prepare for tomorrow's visit. Focus on the job. Talk about the contest. Be polite, professional, and act like you have your life together.
Still, as the evening stretched on, her resolve wavered. Aarohi caught herself biting her lip, her knee bouncing under the desk. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling as she whispered, "Meera, where are you when I need you to talk some sense into me?"
Aarohi knew her best friend would've laughed at her dramatics, then reminded her that she could handle anything. You've faced worse than a grumpy chef, Meera's teasing voice echoed in her mind. And besides, who knows? Maybe this time, he'll smile. Miracles do happen.
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Aarohi's lips. She could practically hear Meera's laugh, full of confidence and mischief. That thought alone gave Aarohi a sliver of comfort as she packed up for the day.
As she stepped out of the office into the cool evening air, she took a deep breath. The city was alive with its usual hum—car horns, street vendors calling out, and the faint chatter of passersby. For a moment, Aarohi let the noise drown out her swirling thoughts.
Tomorrow is just another day, she reminded herself. And Zaika is just another restaurant. You've got this.
But deep down, she knew this wasn't just about a restaurant or a work assignment. It was about facing her insecurities, one awkward step at a time.
Aarohi placed the list back on the table, deliberately turning it over so she wouldn't have to see Zaika's name again tonight. The thought of facing him tomorrow still made her stomach churn, but for now, she had a small reprieve—a night of laughter and distraction with her best friend.
She hopped off the bed, smoothing out the covers, and started tidying up her room. If Meera was coming over, she wanted the space to feel cozy. She grabbed a stack of her favorite blankets from the closet, setting up a makeshift movie corner on the floor. By the time she was done, the room looked like the perfect setup for a relaxing night: cushions scattered around, fairy lights casting a soft, golden glow, and a bowl of popcorn already waiting on the coffee table.
The doorbell rang just as she was fluffing the last pillow. Aarohi hurried to answer it, her spirits lifting as she opened the door to find Meera standing there, holding a tub of ice cream in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.
"Your knight in shining armor has arrived," Meera declared, stepping inside with a dramatic flair.
"You mean my knight with junk food," Aarohi teased, taking the chips from her. "Come in. I've already set up everything."
Meera kicked off her shoes and followed Aarohi into the room, her eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of the cozy setup. "Wow, look at you! You really went all out for this, huh?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Aarohi said with a shrug. "Now, what's our first movie?"
Meera plopped down onto the pile of cushions, pulling out her phone. "I vote for The Accidental Billionaire. It's got everything—ridiculous plot twists, cringey declarations of love, and a hero who always looks like he's just stepped out of a magazine."
Aarohi laughed, settling down beside her. "Fine. But if it's awful, I'm picking the next one."
"Deal," Meera said, handing over the ice cream tub. "Now, hit play. Let's see how bad this gets."
The opening credits rolled, and the sound of laughter soon filled the room as they critiqued the characters' overly dramatic dialogue and absurd plot twists. For the first time all day, Aarohi felt light. Her nerves about Zaika, Ayaan, and tomorrow faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of Meera's presence and the comfort of familiar banter.
As the movie reached its predictably happy ending, Aarohi leaned her head against Meera's shoulder. "Thanks for coming over. I really needed this."
"Always," Meera said, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth. "You're going to nail it tomorrow. I'll be there if you need me. And if the chef gives you attitude, I'll personally throw a water bottle at him."
Aarohi laughed, her heart feeling a little lighter. For now, she decided, she'd let tomorrow take care of itself. Tonight was for bad movies, good food, and the best friend she could ever ask for.
___Next Morning___(^^)
The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. Aarohi stirred, her lashes fluttering open as her senses slowly returned to the world. The aftermath of their late-night escapades sprawled before her like evidence of a chaotic crime scene—empty ice cream cartons balanced precariously on the edge of the coffee table, popcorn bags crumpled on the carpet, and a rebellious mountain of candy wrappers scattered across the floor. It was a masterpiece of delightful destruction.
Aarohi scrambled around the room, trying to piece together some semblance of organization. Her clothes from last night were still draped over a chair, and her bag lay half-open on the floor. "How could I oversleep today of all days?" she groaned, pulling her hair into a messy bun as she hunted for her checklist.
The noise stirred Meera, who let out a groggy moan and peeked out from under the blanket. "What's with the ruckus? It's barely morning."
"It's 9:30!" Aarohi exclaimed, rifling through a pile of papers on the table. "I'm supposed to leave for Zaika soon, and I haven't even gotten ready!"
Meera sat up slowly, her hair sticking out in all directions. "Relax, you've got this. Just take a deep breath." She rubbed her eyes and reached for a slice of leftover pizza. "Also, eat something. You'll need the energy to deal with your imaginary enemies."
Aarohi shot her a glare. "This isn't funny, Meera. What if I mess up? What if I—"
"Spill water on him again?" Meera finished, smirking.
"Ugh, stop reminding me!" Aarohi groaned, clutching her head. "This is a professional meeting. I can't afford to screw it up."
Meera stood, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. "Okay, drama queen. First, get dressed. I'll clean up this mess and make you some coffee. You'll feel like a human again in no time."
Aarohi nodded, grateful as ever for Meera's calm presence. She dashed to her room, pulling out her best business-casual outfit: a crisp white blouse and navy trousers. As she slipped into her clothes, she took a moment to steady her breathing. It's just work, she reminded herself. Nothing personal.
By the time she returned to the living room, Meera had tidied up most of the mess and was holding out a steaming cup of coffee. "Here. Liquid courage."
Aarohi took it with a small smile, the warmth seeping into her hands. "Thanks, Meera. For everything."
"That's what I'm here for," Meera said with a wink. "Now go show Zaika who's boss. And don't forget to text me every dramatic detail afterward."
Aarohi chuckled, feeling a bit more confident as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "Wish me luck!"
"You don't need it," Meera called after her. "You've got this!"
As Aarohi stepped into the morning sun, her nerves still buzzed, but her resolve was stronger. Today was the day she'd face her fears—and maybe, just maybe, take the first step toward proving to herself that she was capable of handling anything.
Aarohi stepped into the office, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the tang of printer ink, wrapping the air in a peculiar but familiar mix. Sunlight poured through the tall glass windows, casting sharp, geometric shadows on the bustling floor. Around her, the office hummed with life—keyboards clattered in uneven rhythms, papers shuffled like whispers, and the occasional ring of a phone sliced through the ambient noise.
She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, her fingers pressing into the worn leather as her gaze flitted across the room. Her colleagues were already absorbed in their tasks, their heads bowed over glowing screens or stacks of documents. The soft hum of conversations ebbed and flowed around her—an undertone of urgency that pricked at her nerves.
Her desk stood at the far corner, tidy yet impersonal, the faintest layer of dust catching the morning light. A half-empty water bottle sat beside a neatly stacked notepad, the pen placed just slightly askew—a reminder of yesterday's hurried departure. Aarohi let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
As she slid into her chair, she smoothed her blouse and carefully placed her bag down, every movement deliberate. Her posture was composed, almost casual, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the storm of thoughts brewing beneath her calm exterior.
Aarohi slid into her chair, her planner already open, fingers skimming over the neatly penciled notes for the day. Across the room, Rhea glanced up from her desk, her expression a mix of curiosity and nervous energy.
"Big day, huh?" Rhea's voice carried over the soft hum of the office, her pen tapping lightly against the edge of her notepad. "How many restaurants are on your list today?"
Aarohi didn't look up immediately, letting her eyes linger on the page as she confirmed her schedule. The smooth efficiency of her movements belied the knot of tension coiling in her stomach. Finally, she met Rhea's gaze, her tone even, almost rehearsed. "A few. I'll be meeting with the owners to discuss the event. It's a lot to handle, but it's necessary."
Rhea's lips quirked into a half-smile, though there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. "I don't know how you do it. I'd be a wreck trying to convince them. It's not easy getting people to agree to something, especially when they're so set in their ways."
Aarohi leaned back slightly, folding her hands on the desk. Her calm demeanor was almost convincing, even to herself. "It's never easy," she admitted, her voice measured. "But it's all about staying clear and focused. If you show them the benefits and keep it professional, they'll listen."
From a desk a few feet away, Sanjay swiveled his chair around, the faint scrape of wheels against the floor drawing both women's attention. His expression was unreadable, but there was a trace of amusement in his tone as he said, "Do you really think they'll go for it? You're always the one taking on these big pitches. No pressure, though."
Aarohi's pen stilled against the edge of her planner. For a moment, her mind flashed to Zaika, its name standing out on her list like a challenge she wasn't quite ready to face. But she pushed the thought aside, sitting up straighter as she turned to Sanjay. Her voice was steady now, firmer. "I'm ready. It's part of the job. If we present the numbers right, they'll see the value. They just need to understand how this benefits them."
Sanjay gave her a small nod, as if testing the weight of her conviction. Aarohi held his gaze for a moment longer before returning to her planner. The tightness in her chest didn't ease, but she had learned how to carry it—how to let the professional mask slip into place, even when the doubts lingered beneath.
The office door creaked open, and all motion seemed to pause for a moment as Mr. Mehta strode in, a stack of papers tucked under his arm.His commanding presence shifted the energy in the room, an almost imperceptible current of tension rippling through the air.
Chairs adjusted, keyboards clattered into silence, and eyes turned toward him with practiced alertness.
He glanced around the room, his sharp gaze resting briefly on each employee before settling on Aarohi. "Alright, team," he began, his voice crisp and authoritative, "gather up. I need updates on today's tasks."
Aarohi straightened instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he addressed her directly. "Aarohi," he said, the weight of expectation evident in his tone, "you're handling the restaurant visits today, correct?"
She rose from her chair, the subtle scrape of it against the floor sounding louder in the otherwise hushed office. Meeting his gaze with a respectful nod, she replied, "Yes, Mr. Mehta. I'll be visiting several places and pitching the event to the owners."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his demeanor all business. "Good. Keep your pitch sharp. Make sure they see the value of this event for their business. No fluff, no wasted time. I want results, Aarohi."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her planner, but she kept her expression calm. "Understood, sir. I'll make sure to follow through."
He gave a brisk nod of approval, his attention shifting to the rest of the room. "Everyone else," he continued, his voice carrying over the soft hum of activity, "get to your tasks. I want tangible progress by the end of the day."
Aarohi caught his gaze once more as he added, almost as an afterthought, "And Aarohi—good luck. You know what's expected."
She responded with a quick, professional nod, her heart thudding slightly faster as she turned back to her desk.
The office quickly resumed its rhythm, chairs rolling, conversations starting in hushed tones. Aarohi tucked her planner into her bag, her movements brisk but deliberate. There was no room for hesitation now.
The cool evening breeze caressed her cheeks, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and freshly paved streets. Aarohi's heels tapped against the pavement in a rhythmic echo as she stepped onto the curb, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. A breath escaped her lips, shaky but controlled, as she raised her hand to hail a cab.
The ride was a quiet one, the city lights flickering through the windows in a kaleidoscope of amber and white. The driver's radio hummed softly, an old tune drifting in and out of focus, but Aarohi barely registered it. Her gaze was fixed ahead, her thoughts weaving between rehearsed pitches and the sharp glint of Ayaan's eyes—a memory she couldn't seem to shake.
When the cab slowed to a stop, she hesitated for a heartbeat before glancing up. The sign above the restaurant glowed warmly, its golden light casting soft reflections onto the sleek glass doors. Zaika. The name seemed to hum with significance, daring her to step closer. Aarohi inhaled deeply, straightening her blazer and forcing her shoulders back in an act of quiet defiance against her nerves.
The cool metallic handle felt steady beneath her palm as she pushed open the door. Inside, the world shifted—a dimly lit symphony of soft laughter, clinking glasses, and the aromatic swirl of spices that immediately enveloped her senses. The polished wooden floors gleamed under the warm light of hanging fixtures, and the air was alive with a subtle energy that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart.
Her steps faltered for just a moment as she adjusted to the ambiance, a quiet resolve settling over her. This was more than just a restaurant visit; she felt it in the undercurrent of her thoughts, in the unspoken weight of the evening.
As the door chimed softly behind her, she couldn't help but feel it was more than a signal of her arrival. It was a threshold, a marker of something beginning—something unknown yet unmistakably significant.