BOOK ONE OF THE SWEET AND SOUR SERIES
Vanya Sharma hated marriages. Growing up seeing troubled and failed marriages carved a bitter spot in her heart, especially when one of them belonged to her parents. While escaping the shadows of her past, she f...
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༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ
𝐊𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐞
मैं तेरा तू मेरी धीरे धीरे से खो गये
📓
𝗩 𝗔 𝗡 𝗬 𝗔
I lean against the balcony railing, the cold metal pressing into my palms as the night breeze ruffles my hair. The city lights stretch out before me, a dazzling sea of gold and white dots flickering like stars. If I squint hard enough, maybe I can lose myself in them, maybe I can forget about the black-suited idiot who walked in and ruined my entire evening.
I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes. Who am I kidding? I haven't been able to forget about him since the stupid marriage contract. I was fine before that. Absolutely fine. Detached, practical, emotionally unavailable—perfect. And then he had to go and... be him.
I grip the railing harder, my knuckles turning white as I recall the way Mahir entered the party, head held high, exuding that annoyingly effortless confidence. His black suit was perfectly tailored, hugging his broad shoulders like it was made just for him—which it probably was. The bastard even had the audacity to adjust his cufflinks, his fingers moving with practised elegance, his jaw clenched in that familiar, grumpy way that made my stomach flip.
I bite my lip, glaring at the city lights. I hate him. I absolutely, unequivocally—nope, not convincing myself even a little.
I tried to be normal tonight. I really did. I smiled, I laughed, I networked like a pro. But the second he walked in, my carefully constructed resolve shattered like glass. I could feel him before I even saw him. The air changed, the temperature rose, my heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart. Useless organ.
I shouldn't be feeling this way. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Getting attached. Letting myself get close. This is why I wanted distance, why I kept reminding him about the stupid contract. I don't want to want him. I don't want to crave his smiles, his rare but beautiful smiles that he's been throwing my way lately. It's dangerous. It's reckless. And I don't do reckless.
"Vanya."
My spiralling thoughts are interrupted as Mr. Raghav, the Marketing Director, clears his throat beside me. I blink, realizing that I've been standing here with him for a while now, lost in my head.
He looks nervous, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the railing, his gaze darting around before settling on me. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again like a goldfish. It's almost comical. If I weren't feeling so tangled up inside, I'd probably laugh.
"I... I've been meaning to tell you..." His voice trembles, his gaze fixed on his shoes. "You're... You're very talented, Vanya. Your work on the campaign was... exceptional."
