Aashiqui Aa Gayi🧡🍁🧡 ✓

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Yuvaan sat in his office, staring out of the window. 

The paperwork lay untouched on his desk, and his mind, frustratingly, drifted once again to Mokshita Rathore. 

It had been days since their encounter at the hospital, but her infectious giggles, her childlike enthusiasm, and the soft feel of her hand still lingered in his thoughts.

He sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

Why can't I get her out of my head? 

It was unlike him to be so distracted. 

Yuvaan was known for his sharp focus and strict discipline, especially when it came to his work and personal life. 

Yet, here he was, unable to shake the memory of a girl he barely knew.

He stood up and paced around the room, trying to focus, but the memory of her smile kept creeping back. 

He stopped mid-step, clenching his jaw in frustration. "This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.

His eyes fell on the envelope sitting on the corner of his desk, one he had been ignoring for days. 

His mother had handed it to him, filled with photographs of potential brides. 

She had been gently pushing him towards marriage, reminding him that it was time for him to settle down.

Yuvaan picked up the envelope, suddenly feeling the need to distract himself. 

He tore it open, revealing five glossy photos of women. 

All of them were beautiful, elegant, and poised. 

But as he stared at the pictures, none of them seemed to stand out. 

They all blended into the same perfect image — sophisticated, polished, and exactly what his family would approve of.

He sighed and tossed the photos onto his desk, leaning back in his chair. 

His mind, however, wandered back to Mokshita. 

She was different — messy, unpolished, full of life, and undeniably real. 

Her innocence, her bubbly nature, her habit of speaking her mind without a filter — all of it had left an impression on him.

But Yuvaan knew better. 

Mokshita was too young for him, too innocent. 

He couldn't let himself be drawn to someone who might get hurt because of his position, his influence. 

The media would devour her, and he couldn't risk tainting her joyful spirit with the harshness of his world. 

He couldn't afford to be selfish, not with her.

Frustrated, he forced himself to focus on the photographs in front of him. "I need to meet someone," he muttered to himself, trying to convince his mind to let go of the thoughts of Mokshita. 

He needed stability, and maybe meeting one of these women would help him regain control over his thoughts.

He picked up one of the photos, studying the poised woman in it. 

She was everything his family would approve of — elegant, sophisticated, and from a well-established family. 

Perhaps meeting her would help distract him from the whirlwind of emotions Mokshita had stirred within him.