𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 [𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡]

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ 5

Never had Alia thought that the college which was probably made in the 70s could have a newly designed, modern interior office. It was one of the best she had seen, well except on instagram and pinterest. She took a few steps inside the room and soaked in all of it because it was so beautiful that she wanted her future job to be here. Now the question was why did he have one and why such a nice one? She looked around in search of him. He was seated on the chair behind the desk looking as if he owned the whole world.

Arman was happy, he after a long time felt satisfied. She was in his world, in front of him and top of that, she was enjoying it. She was mesmerised by his office, he wondered what would happen once she enters his world permanently. The offices, the mansions, food, clothes, vacations and of course the fame, she was going to have it all. Of course his parent's approval mattered but his mattered more. She was looking at him and at that very moment his world just stopped. The most beautiful woman was standing in front of him and staring at him. What lengths would he go to for her; was something only he knew.

"It's a really pretty office." She commented.

He smiled backed and nodded in gratitude. It was simple to what he had back in the company's office building. He then held out his hand to the chair in front of the desks. She nodded and sat down on it.

"So," he said immediately gaining her attention "we start by looking through the suggestion box and making choices from them. Then, we decide the canteen preferences and of course the caters catering for both the canteen and hostels or if they're going to be different. Then comes the library and dealing with the publishers; getting the books suggested by the teachers.."

Alia was going to have a headache any moment now. He had enlisted too many assignments for them to do. Obviously he was expecting too much from her already. He was continuing his so called rant about the jobs they had to do. She felt rude to cut him in between while he was talking so she looked at him making a face that clearly said that she had something to say. Arman understood the moment she looked at him and why won't he? Whenever he went to meetings with his father, people never interrupted them, they just simply looked at them expectedly; waiting to be acknowledged.

"Yes?"

"Uh.. is all..like..um of this work to be done today?" she asked, afraid she would miss Riverdale's latest episode.

Ah, she's stressed already, that's not good for her health.

"Oh no, the work is for the next two months." He answered.

"Great!" she jumped "let's start from tomorrow then."

Arman now understood what she meant. She was a procrastinator which meant on thing that she was lazy and he hated laziness. He was going to scratch it out of her with damm chisel if he had to. His phone beeped in front of him, his mother had texted him and one thing about Laksha Chaudhary was, she never texted. He nodded at the jumpy girl sitting in front of him too happy to be free, just like a sparrow. His sparrow. After she left his office, he left for his house.

He made his way inside the house whilst throwing the keys to the driver. He headed directly for his mother's office located at the first floor. He walked in without knocking and stood in front of his mother's desk. Laksha barely glanced up knowing that only her son could do that.

"What was so important that you had to fucking text me?" He questioned her, his anger peeping beneath the calm and collected demeanour.

"First of all," she held up a finger "language. Second you are not good at keeping a poker face." She noted much to his annoyance.

"That's because you are making me angry!"

"And anger is not to be shown in public," she snapped at him and then sighed in annoyance because she knew he would not care.

"But its you, I am allowed to show you my emotions." He countered, he loved his mother and he would rather not be fake with her.

"Of course, she is the one woman you can trust, son." They both looked at the source of the voice.

There he stood, Siddharth Chaudhary.