Meant to be yours

Taking what's mine

Ishika's POV:

Guts.

That word sparked my memory of last night. How coldly Anamika rejected me and called out on me. How dare She thinks of me as a coward and would regret it. How dare she decide for me?
I immediately took off in the car .
As soon as I entered the building, everyone was looking at me weirdly. I then looked down and realized that I am in my night t shirt and shorts. I don't mind anything at all.
Today she will see how much guts I have.

Third Person's POV:

" Where is your boss? " I asked Jazz who is lost in her own thoughts.
" Ishu, why are you here? Dressed like this? " Jazz asked in confusion.
" Where is she? " Ishika asked as she entered Anamika's office room.
" Ishu, you wait here. She will come here after the presentation in the conference room gets over. Or else she will get angry. "
Ishika didn't pay any heed to her.
Ishika then came out and started to walk towards the lift. Jazz follow her and has been trying to persuade her to stop.
Here Anamika, not knowing what was going to hit her, sat in the chair and listens to the ideas.
The room was silent but buzzing—with ideas, slideshows, and the polite nods. All eyes were on the screen. No one expected the doors to fling open with such force that the lights flickered.
Ishika stood there, chest heaving, fury radiating off her in waves. Her eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto Anamika—poised, graceful, listening to the man who is explaining his idea as if nothing has happened.

But something had happened.
Something that Ishika hadn’t been able to swallow, even after hours of pacing, of replaying their conversation, of asking herself: Was it all my fault?
Last night,Anamika had rejected her and said I will regret it. I would understand. It’s just not the right time.
But now she was here, sitting like a stranger, her smile a polished mask. And Ishika had reached her breaking point.

Driven by anger and an ache she couldn’t name, Ishika marched straight down the aisle, every head turning as whispers rippled through the staffs around.
Anamika’s face changed—first surprise, then regret, then something softer. But it was too late.

Ishika didn’t stop.
She stepped up close to her, grabbed the front of her blazer, and kissed her—fiercely, defiantly, like a confession and a challenge rolled into one.
Gasps echoed around the room, a few cell phones lifted. But in that moment, Ishika didn’t care.
Because the truth was: she loved her.
And she was tired of hiding it.

For a moment, time froze.

The room held its collective breath—caught between shock  and something almost like awe.

Ishika pulled back, her eyes searching Anamika’s face for anything: anger, relief, love. Her hands trembled slightly as she let go of Anamika’s blazer. The fury that had brought her here was already fading, replaced by something more vulnerable—love.

Anamika didn’t say a word.

But her eyes… her eyes weren’t angry. They were glassy, wide, and burning with unshed tears. Her lips parted, then closed again like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

The kiss landed like lightning—sudden, scorching, impossible to ignore.

Anamika’s body stiffened. Her eyes flew wide, her breath caught mid-inhale. For a heartbeat, her instincts screamed at her to push Ishika away, to restore order, to protect the carefully constructed version of herself she had shown the world.

But her hands didn’t move.

Because somewhere beneath the panic, beneath the fear of being seen weak—really seen—was the truth she had buried for far too long.