Stuck with the boss

Ch-16 The Balcony

Shreya's POV

I was exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion where even your bones feel like they're personally offended at you.

That long drive with him had drained whatever sanity I had left, and my body was now officially staging a silent protest.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, I stretched my arms—

and immediately regretted it.

Because I forgot one very important thing.

My outfit was not designed for public flexibility.

I froze mid-stretch, quickly looking around like I was committing a minor crime.

No witnesses.

Good.

I straightened up immediately, acting like nothing happened.

Perfect. Normal. Respectable.

Definitely not a bride-to-be slowly losing her dignity.

⸻

After surviving the dramatic family welcomes and Anamika's interrogation (which honestly felt like a soft emotional courtroom trial), I finally made my escape toward my room.

Peace. Silence. Bed.

That was the plan.

But clearly, fate had jokes planned for me.

⸻

"Wait there, girl!"

Anamika's voice stopped me.

I turned.

She walked toward me with that calm, older-sister energy that always meant one thing—

you are not leaving without explaining your entire life story.

"I can't believe I had to hear about your wedding from aunty this morning," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Details. Now."

I sighed.

"Short version? Chaos, speedrun, emotional damage."

She blinked. "So... your life as usual."

"Exactly."

Then she smirked. "Your future husband is hot."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm telling my entire family you said that."

She shrugged. "Relax, future Mrs. Possessive."

I groaned. "Don't start branding me already."

⸻

Finally free, I reached my room.

Bath. That was my healing arc.

No people. No drama. No Reyhansh Singhania.

Just peace.

⸻

Twenty minutes later, I felt slightly human again.

Warm water, silence, and emotional reset.

I stepped out, applied my favourite pear and apricot moisturizer, and changed into a printed orange top with denim.

Comfort mode activated.

Drama mode: hopefully off.

⸻

I walked toward my small private sitting area—the only place where I could breathe without someone questioning my existence.

But then—