Aparna Sawant, a woman who prioritizes her independence and fulfilling career, has never subscribed to the idea of happily ever after. Marriage, for her, is a practical decision.
Varad Oberoi, a successful businessman hardened by past experiences...
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A P A R N A
My life's been a rollercoaster since, well, forever. Like the time I got my period on a field trip - miles from home, mind you - and had to barter with a classmate for supplies because apparently, explaining "Aunt Flo" to a bus driver wasn't on the agenda.
The only thing reliable in this chaotic mess? My job. It's my anchor, a steady reminder that no matter how much the universe throws at me, I gotta grab my bag and hustle out the door by nine sharp.
But apparently, even those eight precious hours of peace were too much to ask for. Today, stepping into the cool air of Aditya Automobiles felt like entering a lion's den. All. Day. Long. Hot stares burning into my back like laser beams, making me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.
Nadia, bless her heart, tried to stick by me like glue. But her desk's on the other side of the building, and even the most loyal sidekick needs a bathroom break eventually. So, I took a deep breath, donned my big-girl pants (metaphorically speaking, because let's be real, comfy sweats are the real MVP), and politely but firmly shooed her away.
Mumbai's rumor mill was churning in high gear, and for the first time, I was right in the eye of the storm. My engagement with Varad was splashed across every newspaper, and whispers followed me everywhere. Thankfully, the crazy accusations from my parents stayed out of the headlines – Varad apparently delivered a very persuasive (and likely intimidating) speech to the media at the engagement.
At least, that's what I call him now. Varad. Still getting used to it.
Work became a minefield. Everyone from the intern to Mr. Desai, the grumpy old accountant, seemed to have an opinion on my personal life. Thankfully, Gabbar remained a stoic island in this sea of curiosity. She summoned me to her cabin with her usual imperious wave, dumped a massive stack of files on my desk, and launched into a detailed rundown of a new project.
Bless her workaholic heart. No time for gossip in Gabbar's world, just deadlines and deliverables. As long as she kept treating me like a normal employee, I didn't care if she was a gossip queen or a productivity robot.
The morning flew by in a blur of paperwork and awkward encounters. Clients I barely recognized stopped by my desk, colleagues I'd never spoken to before suddenly had burning questions about wedding planning. It was all a bit overwhelming, but manageable.
That is, until lunchtime. Because after lunch, that's when shit hit the fan.
Just as I was tucking away my lunchbox, a familiar voice buzzed through the office. Charan, the ever-helpful office assistant, peeked over his cubicle with a message.
"Mr. Reddy wants to see you," he announced, a hint of awe in his voice.
"Mr. Reddy?" I echoed, heart skipping a beat. "Like, the CEO Mr. Reddy?"
Charan, unable to contain his excitement, simply nodded vigorously before disappearing back into his work zone. My mind raced. Why would the CEO himself want to see me? Intrigue coiled in my stomach, urging me towards the elevator bay.
The elevator ride to the eighteenth floor felt like a fucking eternity. Stepping out, I found myself face-to-face with the mahogany doors leading to Mr. Reddy's office. A gold plaque gleamed under the lights, proclaiming his title in elegant script: 'CEO Aditya Reddy.'
Working as secondary staff, I rarely had reason to cross paths with the higher-ups, let alone the CEO himself. Sure, I'd seen him around, but the idea of actually being summoned to his office sent a jolt of nervous energy through me.
Taking a deep breath, I rapped twice on the impressive door. A deep voice called out, "Come in."
Hesitantly, I peeked through the doorway. Mr. Reddy sat behind a massive desk, phone pressed to his ear, a pen twirling absentmindedly in his free hand. He gestured for me to enter.
With a final, silent apology to the door for the inevitable creak, I stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me, leaving me alone with the CEO. My fingers, victims of a sudden case of the jitters, throbbed a bright red from all the pre-meeting knuckle-cracking.
The minutes stretched into an eternity as I waited for Aditya Reddy to acknowledge me. Finally, with a sigh that spoke volumes, he tucked his phone away and fixed me with a dark gaze. A curt gesture indicated a chair, and I sank into it with relief. My legs, shaky from nervous anticipation, wouldn't have held me much longer.
Aditya Reddy. The name itself whispered of a certain ruthless charm. He had a reputation, one built on self-assured swagger and a string of conquests. Tall and imposing, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to pierce through you, he epitomized a certain brand of magnetism. The kind that turned heads and left whispers in its wake.
'Handsome,' I conceded mentally, 'but not Varad handsome.' There was a subtle difference, a nuance that only someone who knew Varad could appreciate. Aditya's intensity was a touch too much, a shade too cold. It sent shivers down my spine, but not the butterflies-in-the-stomach kind.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" I managed, my voice breaking the thick silence.
He took his time, a deliberate slowness that seemed to be his trademark. Finally, he leaned forward, forearms resting on the desk.
"Indeed, Miss Sawant. Congratulations on the engagement. It's quite the talk of the town." His lips twitched, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
A forced smile played on my lips as the congratulations droned on. The joy of the engagement had dimmed under the harsh light of public scrutiny.
"You know, Ms. Sawant," Mr. Reddy began, his voice a touch too formal, "personal matters are something I prefer to keep out of the office. It's a lesson I learned from my father. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable."
My brow furrowed. "I don't quite understand, sir. What exactly are you proposing?" I fiddled with the ring on my finger, a nervous habit.
His gaze flickered to the fucking ring, a fleeting emotion crossing his face before vanishing. Regaining his composure, he offered a tight smile.
"Straight to the point then, Ms. Sawant. You're a valuable asset to our team. We're fortunate to have you. However, tensions between Oberoi Corporate and Aditya Automobiles are...strained at best. Having someone so close to their CEO on our payroll presents a risk. We trust you, but caution dictates otherwise." His eyes softened with a hint of sympathy.
My breath hitched, a cold dread creeping in. My ears seemed to block out what followed, my body betraying my will. But the dreaded words sliced through the haze, loud and clear.
"Terminated," Mr. Reddy mumbled, the word hanging heavy in the air despite the "sorry" tacked on the end. "Or, of course, you can resign."
Resign. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but termination on my record was unthinkable. Another job hunt loomed, an unwelcome prospect considering the current market.
His apologies washed over me, a meaningless courtesy. My mind fixated on the three words that had shattered my world: "You are fired."
This job wasn't just a paycheck; it was my anchor, my source of pride. I poured my heart and soul into it, and now, because of a marriage I barely consented to, it was ripped away.
Anger and despair warred within me. A primal urge to lash out battled with a crushing wave of sadness. Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill.
"Thank you, Sir," I managed, my voice hoarse. Dismissed, I practically ran back to my desk. My hands trembled, a telltale sign of the tears I fought back.
With fingers that wouldn't quite cooperate, I typed out my resignation. "I QUIT," it declared amidst the professional formality, a stark reflection of the turmoil within.
