"WHIPSERS OF TOGETHERNESS "

8~ NAIRA'S APPOLOGY

Hello my lovely readers ,
How are you , if you want you may listen to the song attached above it's one of my fav .

Let's continue with the story were we left .....

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As Naira stood outside the conference hall, the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden hue over the polished marble floor, creating a soft glow that enveloped the corridor. The hallway, lined with expansive glass windows, offered a view of the city skyline, its tall buildings bathed in the last rays of sunlight. The atmosphere was serene, almost poetic, but Naira's mind was a whirl of self-doubt and apprehension.

The heavy oak door of the conference hall swung open, and Kartik's PA emerged. Dressed in a sharp business suit, her clipboard clutched firmly, she walked briskly towards the exit, her shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble. The hallway was now filled with the fading murmurs of departing representatives, their voices blending into a harmonious hum of farewell and bustling chatter.

Naira, standing a few paces away, gathered her resolve. The weight of her mission felt almost tangible as she stepped forward, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Excuse me."

The PA paused and turned with practiced professionalism. "Yes, please?"

Naira's heart raced as she requested, "Can I meet Mr. Kartik?"

The PA, accustomed to handling project-related inquiries, nodded understandingly. "You may come with me. I'll ask Mr. Kartik if he's available."

They moved towards Kartik's cabin, which exuded understated luxury. The corridor leading to the cabin was adorned with abstract artwork and potted plants, contributing to a tranquil yet sophisticated ambiance. The PA knocked softly before opening the door to Kartik's office, a space that spoke of both power and elegance.

Naira, standing outside the cabin, was a bundle of nerves. She leaned against the cool marble wall, seeking solace from the internal storm she faced. The almost deserted corridor seemed to echo her anxiety.

"Yrr, Naira," she muttered under her breath, frustration mingling with self-mockery. "Tu ja to rahi hai, par bolegi kya? Kahin kuch bolne se pehle hi beizzati kar ke bhar nikal de. Tera to 'moye moye' ho jayega."

Her internal monologue was a cacophony of self-doubt. The term "moye moye" reflected her fear of fumbling her apology and making a spectacle of herself. She imagined herself stumbling over her words, her anxiety making her look foolish.

Taking a deep breath, Naira tried to steady herself. The imagined scenario of stumbling in front of Kartik was overwhelming, and she muttered to herself, "Yrr, usko sorry bolne ke khayal se hi itna ganda imagination ho raha hai. Main apna mazak na banwa lo kahi uske samne."

For a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool wall, finding a brief respite from her whirlwind of emotions. The quiet hallway, broken only by the distant hum of the city, contrasted sharply with the storm raging inside her.

Reminding herself of her courage, she thought, "Par ab soch liya hai to hai, sorry bol de Naira. Baar-baar moka nahi milta."

Inside, Kartik's cabin was a blend of modernity and tradition. Expansive windows framed a breathtaking view of the cityscape, their glass panes reflecting the myriad hues of the sunset. The room was meticulously organized, with a large mahogany desk bearing the weight of leather-bound files and neatly stacked paperwork. A high-backed leather chair sat behind the desk, dark and imposing, with a small seating area thoughtfully arranged in one corner.

Kartik, engrossed in his work, looked up as he heard the knock. With a swift motion, he glanced towards the door and nodded, affirming, "Come in."

The PA entered, her expression neutral but respectful. "Sir, Ms. Naira Singhania from Singhania Industries wishes to meet you. Should I call her in?"