I'm going to keep writing this story because it holds a special place in my heart and has been my companion during some tough times. It's my first story even though the idea isn't entirely my own.
But yaar, don't just be silent readers! Vote, comment– your support and feedback really keep me going! And please dua karna kisi ko na pata chale mere ghar mein.
"Pagal aurat, tu ne uss Azaan ke samne kyun ro diya?" Anaya muttered to herself, running her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Ullu ki patthi... ab woh phir se mera mazaak udaayega" she whispered angrily, pacing the room.
Then she paused, took a deep breath,Her eyes fell on the file lying on the table.
"Calm down, Anaya. Rona thoda sa bhi bura nahi hota... jo hua, so hua. Ab chal, yeh file de ke aate hain" she told herself, trying to shake off the chaos swirling in her chest.
"Kya pata, kaam karte karte dignity bhi wapas mil jaye" she mumbled, picking it up.
Ayaan's office was just upstairs. Anaya did a quick touch-up, running her fingers through her hair and dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
"Fake it til you make it, honey" she muttered with a tired smirk, checking her reflection one last time. Confidence fake thi, lekin attitude original tha.
Anaya took a deep breath like she was about to walk into a war zone, not just hand over a file.
She went upstairs. Then she knocked gently and pushed the door open to Ayaan's assistant's room. Ayaan's assistant—a man with glasses—looked up.
"File for Ayaan sir from Azaan sir" she said, smiling too much for her own liking.
He took it without a word, giving her a brief, suspicious glance, like she was an alien.
"Sign karo" he said, pointing to a logbook.
Anaya rolled her eyes internally but smiled sweetly. "Ji , Zarur." she replied, signing her name with all the fake grace she could muster.
She stepped out of the room but of course, luck wasn't on her side today. Luck never was on her side.
Ayaan stepped out of the cabin just then, adjusting his watch—looking every bit like the self-important jerk he was.
"Anaya? Tum yahaan?" he said, eyebrows arching ever so slightly.
Oh no. Not him. Of all people. Fuck. Him.
His assistant trailed out behind her from the room .
Anaya pasted on her fakest, most polite smile. "Assalamualaikum, sir. File dene aayi thi."
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Tum file dene kaise aa gayi?"
Anaya wanted to strangle him right then and there. But she didn't. She just smiled wider.
"Actually, Azaan— I mean, Azaan sir ne kaha tha... main bas deliver kar rahi hoon. Like a delivery guy. Bas tips nahi mili" she mumbled the last part under her breath. But of course, he heard it.
Ayaan didn't smile. His assistant handed him the file in silence.
"Okay. Thank you" Ayaan said, eyes dropping to the file.
And just like that—Anaya rolled her eyes very obviously, making sure he saw it. Then she spun on her heel, flipping her hair like a pro as she walked away.
Anaya marched back into Azaan's office like she'd just won a Nobel Prize. She knocked once—more for formality than permission—then walked in without waiting.
