..Out of the Blue ..💙

44.Curse

The campus lawn was bustling, but Zoya and J had secured their usual bench under the gulmohar tree. Books spread out, iced coffee cups sweating on either side, and J — as always — was more interested in gossip than lecture notes.

“So,” J began, tapping his pen against Zoya’s notebook. “You’re really not gonna give me details?”

Zoya arched a brow. “Details about?”

“Monica Mittal,” he hissed in a whisper-shout, like her name alone would summon thunderclouds. “The Ice Queen. The Panther in Prada. The—”

“She’s not a zoo exhibit,” Zoya muttered, hiding a smile.

J leaned in. “Okay, but. Is this, like… a thing? Is she your actual ‘thing’?”

Zoya hesitated for a second, then shrugged, trying to play casual. “We’re just… figuring things out.”

J looked personally offended. “Don’t give me politician answers. Is she the same fling you mentioned last semester? The one you said messed with your head and had hands that—”

“J!” Zoya slapped his arm, looking around.

He froze. “Oh my god. It’s her. The woman from the fling story... is Monica. Mittal.”

Zoya winced, realizing her mistake. “Okay, calm down—”

“I will not calm down. You said she flipped you upside down emotionally and in bed, and now she’s giving you rides to class and wearing designer sunglasses at 6 PM?! This is poetry.”

Before Zoya could respond, the campus speaker crackled to life.

“Final year students, please assemble in Hall B for the placement webinar. Special guest: Monica Mittal, CEO of—”

J’s eyes nearly fell out. “YOU’RE KIDDING ME.”

Zoya was already burying her face in her hands.

---

Hall B – 10 Minutes Later

The entire hall buzzed with excitement, placement anxiety, and maybe a little wardrobe panic. Zoya sat two rows from the front. J beside her was practically vibrating.

“You slept with our keynote speaker.”

“Shut up,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Monica entered the hall in her signature fashion — immaculately dressed in an ivory pantsuit, heels that clicked confidently across the marble floor, clipboard in hand. Her hair was pinned back, her posture precise, her expression unreadable.

Students straightened in their seats. Phones subtly angled for photos. One professor nearly stood up to clap.

Zoya couldn’t look away.

And for one small, fleeting moment, as Monica adjusted the mic and scanned the room — her gaze paused. Just a second longer than necessary. On Zoya.

Zoya felt it like a jolt of static electricity.

J elbowed her. “Tell me you saw that. Tell me I didn’t hallucinate the CEO of Mittal Global checking you out during a career talk.”

Zoya refused to look at him.

“She’s literally talking about business strategy and I swear to god she undressed you with her eyes,” he whispered.

Monica’s voice filled the hall — calm, poised, naturally authoritative. “In today’s market, adaptability is everything. And confidence—genuine confidence—doesn’t come from being the loudest voice in the room…”