𝐘𝐞𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞

Misunderstandings

Ayan's Pov

(12 pm)
My eyes were heavy, and I could barely keep them open. This might be the first time I’ve felt this restless in a meeting. But who wouldn’t be? I’ve been working non-stop since 5 AM, and the exhaustion is starting to hit hard.

“Ugh! I’m hungry… Abhi,” I muttered, gesturing for him to bring me my iced tea. I forced myself to refocus on the task at hand. The conference room was packed with the heads of every department, all gathered to finalize the launch of our newest project. The air was thick with tension, everyone on edge as we discussed every possible angle to ensure a smooth rollout.

"Let’s move on to the marketing approach," said Radhika, the head of PR. "We’ve got everything lined up, but there’s still a concern about the media coverage."

I nodded, trying to stay engaged as she continued, “We need a strong journalist to cover this. The media can make or break our launch, and with our last journalist fired for unprofessionalism, we’re in a tight spot.”

The room murmured in agreement, and it was clear this was the main issue on everyone’s mind. Each department head began voicing their concerns, each highlighting minor issues that, while important, paled in comparison to the media problem. IT worried about the launch website’s capacity; Finance was concerned about budgeting for unexpected PR needs, and Legal had its own list of potential pitfalls.

But as the conversation circled back to the media, I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Finding a reliable journalist was critical, and time was running out. Every second felt like a countdown to disaster if we didn’t get this right. I sipped my iced tea, the cold drink doing little to revive me. We needed a solution, and we needed it now.

The room was buzzing with activity as everyone started pulling up names of the best journalists in the country. I could barely keep up with the conversation, my eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep. My laptop screen was filled with profile after profile, but none of them really stood out. I was just going through the motions, waiting for something—anything—to catch my attention.

Then I saw some what Similar face, I know it face Like engraved,  "Arohi?" I don't know What tone It would be called In dictionary.

The image on my screen showed her in her journalist look—arms folded, face set in that disciplined, no-nonsense expression she always wore Very unusual to see her so serious. She looked sharp, focused, like she could take on the world and win. I frowned, leaning back in my seat as I stared at her picture. My hand moved up to rub my lips, a habit I couldn’t shake whenever something threw me off balance. "Damn, She is indeed a Journalist how can I forget that"

"I thought she was just Joking about, She is no where serious at all" the more I scroll The more I know about her works and articles.

She is good—no one could deny that—but the idea of working with her? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with that.

I glanced around the room. Everyone was busy, heads down, focused on their screens and the task at hand. They had no idea what was going through my mind right now. I thought about bringing up her name, but something held me back. I wasn’t ready to go there, not yet.

I let out a slow breath and looked back at my laptop, her image still on the screen. I forced myself to keep scrolling, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her. Whether I liked it or not, Arohi was now a real option, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to complicate everything.

💌

Back in my office, I finally had a moment to myself, though it didn’t last long. Abhi and the Hr Head walked in, their arms full of files they had gathered to present to me. The Files Piled up on my Desk, I counted them In mind Tired Af.