"Lost in his love, she made him her world, where everything else faded into insignificance"
∞
Kriti Singhania, reluctantly returns to her homeland to fulfill her father's wish of becoming the CEO of his company. However, her life takes an unexpected...
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Aayansh's POV~
Kriti had been tearing through my wardrobe, searching for, who knows what. I’d been sitting on the couch for the past half hour, watching as she tossed aside perfectly folded shirts, meticulously arranged ties, and the rest of my clothes, piece by piece.
“Kriti-” I began, but she waved me off without even looking. “Chup raho, Aayansh!” she snapped, her frustration almost comical.
By now, my wardrobe was a disaster. “Fine, Can you at least tell me what you’re looking for?” I asked again, a hint of impatience creeping into my voice.
Finally, she paused, a look of disbelief on her face. “Aayansh, you own hundreds of shirts and T-shirts!”
“Yes,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. After all, it took effort to maintain such a refined collection.
“But why are they all in shades of black, blue, grey, and white?” Sweetheart nearly shouted.
I pulled her closer, my hands gently grasping her wrists before wrapping my arms around her tiny waist.
Her gaze met mine, steady but resolute.
“Don’t,” she said, her tone firm. “I’m not in the mood.”
Mood? What the hell? Confusion washed over me, but I decided to let it slide for now.
“What are you looking for?” I asked softly, trying to gauge what was bothering her.
“A pink shirt,” she replied, her voice surprisingly earnest. I raised an eyebrow, disbelief flooding my thoughts. A pink shirt?
“I’ll get it for you,” I offered, but she squirmed slightly, trying to wiggle out of my hold.
“No, I have a pink shirt. I want you to wear it,” she said, her tone softening, almost pleading.
Her request caught me off guard. I tilted my head, a teasing smile creeping onto my face. “What?”
She nodded, her expression brightening, “Wear a pink shirt”
“Why the hell would I wear a pink shirt?” I questioned her, genuinely intrigued by her deadly statements.
Kriti yanked my arms away, stepping back with a confident smile. “Because I’m wearing pink,” she replied, her tone teasing.
That’s when I noticed what she was wearing: a short pink skirt that accentuated her figure and a simple white top.
Cute.
Hot.
But no, the idea of wearing a pink shirt still felt utterly ridiculous.
