The black SUV glided down the expressway, the cityscape blurring past the tinted windows. Inside, Reyansh Oberoi sat in the passenger seat, his arms folded and jaw clenched, clearly not over the chaos that had unfolded earlier. Beside him, his younger brother Vihaan scrolled through his phone, casually checking emails—until Reyansh finally broke the silence.

"That girl was insane," Reyansh muttered, rubbing his temple.

"She crashes her scooty into my car and then has the audacity to yell at me—like it was my fault."

Vihaan looked up, trying not to smile.

"Bhai, let it go. The matter’s settled now. No police, no drama."

Reyansh exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

"But what’s with naming her scooty Lucy?" Vihaan added with a laugh.

"Who does that?"

Reyansh let out a reluctant chuckle.

"Exactly! And did you hear what she called me?"

Vihaan raised a brow. "What?"

"‘Ostrich.’ She called me a damn ostrich. Do I look like one?" Reyansh asked, gesturing toward his reflection in the side mirror.

Vihaan burst into laughter.

"Honestly, now that she’s said it, I can’t unsee it."

"Shut up."

Reyansh shook his head but couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at his lips. That girl… completely mad. But kind of funny too… in an irritating way.

Their banter continued, the tension slowly dissolving into laughter. For Reyansh, Vihaan’s light-heartedness always managed to ground him—like a calm to his storm.

"By the way," Vihaan said as he adjusted his cufflinks, "that girl’s friend or sister… she seemed quiet. Calm."

Reyansh glanced sideways, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, I noticed. You weren’t being very friendly though, hmm? Looked like you’ve known her forever. You even handled that cop situation like some knight in shining armor."

Vihaan straightened in his seat, defensive.
"No, bhai, what are you even saying?"

Reyansh gave him a slow smirk. "Why do I feel like you liked her?"

"Nothing like that," Vihaan said quickly, clearing his throat. "I just didn’t want any scene to happen. We had to reach office on time, and things were already out of hand because of your… moment."

Reyansh chuckled under his breath again, leaning back. Vihaan’s hiding something… But he didn’t press further. For now.

Soon, their car pulled up to the towering glass building—Oberoi Industries—a name that echoed power, prestige, and perfection.

As they stepped out, the staff respectfully greeted them with polite nods and quick ‘Good mornings.’ The brothers entered through the private lift, their presence commanding attention with every step.

Vihaan exited on the 17th floor—his domain as COO—while Reyansh continued up to the top floor, the seat of power: the CEO’s office.

The sleek cabin welcomed Reyansh with silent elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden morning light. As he entered, his PA, Aarav, greeted him with a professional nod.

“Good morning, sir. You have a board meeting at 12;30, followed by a review with the marketing team. The London investors’ call has been shifted to 4 PM.”

Reyansh nodded, loosening the buttons of his blazer.

“Send my coffee.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once alone, Reyansh walked slowly to the glass wall, his gaze trailing over the buzzing city below. A quiet sigh left his lips as he placed one hand on the cool glass.

“I hope I never run into you again… Trouble in a bright yellow kurti.”

A ghost of a smirk danced on his lips.

She looked like chaos… spoke like fire… and had the nerve to insult me with a smile.

He shook his head.

Crazy girl…
Troublemaker.

.

.

.

The sleek glass doors of the Oberoi Industries’ top floor conference room slid open with a soft hiss, and immediately, the room straightened.

Silence fell.

Phones were kept down. Backbones stiffened. Murmurs stopped mid-air.

Because he had walked in.

Reyansh Oberoi.
CEO. Sharp in a tailored charcoal suit, the man’s presence alone felt like thunder wrapped in silk. His steps were steady, calculated, confident—like a man who owned not just the room, but the world outside the glass walls too.

He didn’t need to speak to command attention.
He was the kind of man whose silence could pin you harder than a thousand words.

Following closely behind him was his younger brother, Vihaan Oberoi—the company’s COO. Dressed in a steel blue suit and a calm expression, Vihaan carried his own quiet power. Less storm, more steel. While Reyansh was fire and force, Vihaan was clarity and control.

Both sides of the same coin.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said the head of the finance division, trying to maintain composure.

Reyansh gave a nod, didn’t sit yet. His sharp eyes scanned the room like a hawk surveying prey. His PA, Aarav, handed him a slim folder. He took it wordlessly, flipped it open.

The others waited, almost holding their breath.

When Reyansh finally spoke, his voice was deep, composed—but every word hit like a whip.

"So... this is the Q2 report?" he asked, not looking up.

"Y-Yes sir. As per the last projections, we—" the employee began, but Reyansh cut in without raising his tone.

"This is off by 3.7%. Why?"

The man stuttered. "Sir, there was a supply chain—"

"I didn’t ask what happened. I asked why it wasn’t anticipated."

Silence.

Reyansh finally looked up, and the weight of his gaze felt heavier than gravity. His eyes locked with the man’s. Calm. Cold. Demanding.

"No space for careless forecasting at this table. We don’t pay for potential. We pay for precision."

And there it was—the Reyansh Oberoi effect.

The man nodded quickly, flustered. "Understood, sir. I’ll revise the—"

"Do more than revise. Rectify," Reyansh said, his voice still low but lethal. Then he turned to Vihaan. "Suggestions?"

Vihaan leaned forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

"I think the projection error stems from the outdated vendor analysis model. We’ll need to revamp that sheet with real-time tracking software. I’ll personally handle the integration with IT. Give me 48 hours."

Reyansh’s gaze softened slightly. He nodded once.

"Good. Do it."

Then his voice sharpened again, addressing the room.

"This company wasn’t built on excuses. If you can’t rise to the standard, step aside. We’re not here to survive in the market—we're here to own it."

A cold silence followed. No one dared speak. No one even blinked.

Then Vihaan spoke, breaking the ice like spring after a harsh winter.

"Also, let’s remember this—mistakes aren’t the enemy, but repeating them is. Fix it. Learn. Move better."

His voice was calmer, yet commanding in its own right. He didn’t shout—but people listened. Always.

Reyansh closed the file and finally took his seat. Everyone else followed, shoulders easing—just a little.

"Anything else I need to clean up today?" Reyansh asked dryly, making a few chuckle nervously.

"No, sir," came a chorus of answers.

"Good," he said, glancing at his watch. "Meeting dismissed."

People filed out of the room like the tide pulling back, hushed and hurried. Reyansh leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning his blazer.

Vihaan, still seated beside him, smirked. “You scared half the room.”

Reyansh smirked too. “If they’re scared, they’ll focus better.”

Vihaan laughed softly. “You know, one day someone’s going to call HR on you.”

“I am HR,” Reyansh shot back with a raised brow, making Vihaan laugh harder.

Outside the boardroom, the staff buzzed again, whispering in awe.

“He’s terrifying.”
“But brilliant.”
“They both are.”

Inside, the Oberoi brothers returned to their world of sharp decisions, higher stakes, and unshakable vision.

And even as the city moved outside, in this tower of power—two kings sat on their throne.
________

Oberoi Mansion — Evening

The gates of Oberoi Mansion opened as the brothers' car rolled in. The lights inside the grand house glowed warmly, a stark contrast to the steel and tension of the boardroom they’d just left behind.

Reyansh and Vihaan stepped out, ties loosened, posture still sharp, but there was a softness that only home could bring.

Inside the living room, Dadaji—Yash Oberoi— sat on his favorite armchair, wearing his signature cream shawl, spectacles halfway down his nose, reading a newspaper he barely focused on anymore.

As soon as he saw them, his eyes twinkled.

"Lo aa gaye mere dono sher," he said, smiling proudly.

("Here come my two lions.")

Both brothers walked up and bent down to touch his feet.

"Jeete raho, mere bachcho," Dadaji blessed them, his hands resting affectionately on their heads.

He looked at Reyansh then, amusement flickering in his wise old eyes.

"I heard you were being very strict in the office today."

Reyansh smiled, the kind that touched only one corner of his mouth.

"Dadaji, agar aise nahi karenge to sab kaam dhang se nahi karenge... lazy ho jaayenge."

(“Dadaji, if I don’t stay strict, no one will work properly. They’ll grow lazy.”)

He sat down next to him.

"Thoda sa pressure zaruri hota hai, tabhi to company grow karegi."

(“A little pressure is necessary. That’s how we’ll grow the company.”)

Dadaji laughed softly, nodding. "Tum dono ne waise bhi itni mehnat ki hai... tabhi to Oberoi Industries top pe hai."

("You both have worked so hard… that’s why our company is at the top today.")

Vihaan smiled at that, settling on the couch beside them. “We just didn’t want to let you down.”

Before Dadaji could reply, Meera Oberoi walked in, her voice trailing from the hallway.

“Reyansh, Vihaan—jaldi fresh ho jao. Dinner is almost ready. Mujhe pata hai tum dono ne lunch bhi properly nahi kiya.”

(“Go freshen up quickly. I know you two didn’t even have lunch properly today.”)

Vihaan chuckled. “Badi maa, how do you always know everything?”

Meera gave him a mock glare. “Because I have a mother’s sixth sense.”

She ruffled his hair lightly and looked at both of them.
“Go, now. I’m getting the table set. Don’t make me call twice.”

The brothers exchanged a small smirk and headed upstairs.

.

.

.

Steam curled around the glass of the bathroom mirror as Reyansh stepped out of the shower, towel slung around his neck, hair slightly damp, wearing a black T-shirt and grey joggers. His sharp features softened in the dim light, and for a moment, the CEO was just a son. A brother. A man.

He stared at his reflection.

Still thinking about her.

That accident. That… girl.

“Lucy…” he murmured, and then scoffed. “Who even names their scooty Lucy?”

"Troublemaker"

And yet… something about her hadn’t left his mind.
.

.

.

The long table glittered with silverware, dishes covered in brass lids, aromas wrapping the room in warmth.

Dadaji, Meera, Raghav Oberoi (Reyansh’s father), Dev Oberoi (Vihaan’s father), Rekha (Vihaan’s mom), Pari (Reyansh’s younger sister), and Neil (Vihaan’s younger brother)—everyone was already seated, laughter echoing as the brothers walked in.

"Finally! Royals have arrived!" Pari teased.

Reyansh raised a brow at her. "Careful. I still fund your shopping."

Neil burst out laughing. “Burn!”

They all sat down. The table came alive with chatter, silver spoons clinking against plates, soft family banter bouncing across.

Pari, mouth full, said,
“So in college today, my friend asked me if I could get her an internship at Oberoi Industries. And I told her—first become worthy of breathing the same air as Reyansh Bhaiya.”

Reyansh rolled his eyes. “I’m not that intimidating.”

Everyone: “You are.”

Dev grinned. “Your aura alone gives HR anxiety.”

Suddenly, Raghav looked at his son. “I heard there was a minor car accident today?”

Before Reyansh could even speak, Vihaan jumped in, calm but quick.

“No big deal, Bade Papa. A girl’s scooty tapped the car. That’s all. Nothing serious.”

Reyansh smirked. “Scooty? More like Lucy.”

Pari’s eyes widened. “Wait—what? A dog hit your car?”

Vihaan started laughing.

“Not a dog. The scooty’s name was Lucy.”

Everyone laughed.

Pari shook her head, shocked. “Who names their scooty Lucy? I want to meet her. She sounds iconic.”

Vihaan leaned in mischievously. “She didn’t just name her scooty... she named someone else too.”

Reyansh shot him a warning glance.

“Vihaan. Don’t.”

But it was too late.

Vihaan grinned, “She called Bhai an Ostrich.”

The table exploded in laughter.

Neil gasped. “Arre bhaiya, kaun thi yeh ladki jisme itni himmat thi ki hamare rock-solid Bhaiya ko mooh pe ostrich keh diya?”

("Bhaiya, who was this girl that had the guts to call our rock-solid brother an ostrich to his face?")

Even Dadaji laughed heartily. “Zarur koi happy-soul aur daring hogi, tabhi toh Reyansh ko bolne ka bhi mauka nahi diya.”

("She must be some happy-soul aur daring, to leave Reyansh speechless.")

Everyone kept teasing him. Reyansh simply sipped water, face unreadable, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him.

.

.

.

The room was quiet now. Curtains swayed gently with the breeze. The city lights blinked softly in the distance.

Reyansh stood in front of the mirror again, towel around his shoulders.

He looked at himself.

“Ostrich,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Then he scoffed.

“She’s crazy,” he said, almost to himself.

But… even in the silence of his room, the laughter from the dining table echoed in his ears. And somehow, despite the chaos of the day, the name… Lucy… and the girl who dared to name him an ostrich—refused to leave his mind.

"I hope we never meet again. Never."

He walked over, lay down on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

__________

The warm yellow glow of the Mehta household’s dining room wrapped around them like a soft shawl, comforting and familiar. Plates clinked, spoons stirred, and the aromatic steam of dal and sabzi mingled with the laughter around the table. It was a typical chaotic Mehta family dinner—filled with teasing, scolding, and love disguised as mockery.

“Aaru di,” Rahul said with a mischievous grin, breaking a chapati into his plate,

“if you don’t know how to ride your scooty properly, why do you even ride it?”

Aarini rolled her eyes, already regretting telling anyone about her minor “not-my-fault” accident. Before she could open her mouth, Rahul continued dramatically,

“Thank God the car guy didn’t file a complaint. Divya di said he looked super rich, probably someone powerful too…”

Aarini shot her brother a glare.

“Shut up, Rahul! That man was a complete ostrich.”

Veer choked on his water.

“An ostrich?”

Her father raised his brow as he set down his glass.

“No, Aaru. You shouldn’t call people names like that. Be grateful it wasn’t anything serious.”

Aarini slumped back in her chair, arms crossed. She mumbled under her breath, “Should’ve called him a cactus instead.”

Everyone ignored her sass.

Their father turned his attention to Divya.

“So, Divya, did you apply for that internship you mentioned last week?”

Divya wiped her hands and nodded.

“Yes, chachu. In fact, it got accepted. I have to go tomorrow to meet the head once, and if all goes well, I’ll officially join the day after.”

A gentle pride lit up his features.

“That’s good. Very good. I’m proud of you, beta.”

Divya beamed while Aarini quietly smiled beside her, the earlier grumpiness melting away. Conversations flowed from current news to neighbor gossip, Veer and Rahul’s complaints about his math teacher, and their mother's her uncle and aunt constant reminders to chew slowly and drink more water. The world outside didn’t exist in those little moments. Just food, family, and laughter.
.

.

.

Later that night, the house settled into its nightly hum. The streets outside quieted, the wind brushing softly against the windowpanes. In their shared bedroom, Aarini and Divya sat cross-legged on their bed, nursing steaming mugs of late-night tea. The cozy yellow fairy lights twinkled above the headboard, casting a calm, sleepy glow.

“I still can’t believe Lucy almost got crushed,” Aarini said, stirring her tea absentmindedly.

Divya raised a brow, amused.

“It's just scooty aaru?”

“She has a name, Divya,” Aarini said with faux seriousness.

“And yes. Poor Lucy. She’s been with me through thick and thin.”

Divya smirked.

“Thick traffic and thin alleys?”

“Exactly.”

They both giggled.

“Seriously though,” Aarini continued, leaning back on her hands,

“if that other guy hadn’t pulled him aside, I swear I would’ve taken off my helmet and thrown it straight at that Ostrich's face.”

Divya burst into laughter.

“Ostrich again? What even made you call him that?”

“I don’t know!” Aarini huffed, frustrated. “He just had this… tall, stiff, too-serious vibe. Like he thought the whole world owed him something. His voice? So dramatic. Like he was delivering a speech at the UN.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Divya said, wiping tears of laughter. “Completely impossible.”

“I know,” Aarini grinned, “but you love me for it.”

“That’s debatable,” Divya teased.

They clinked their mugs together, a silent cheer for surviving the day.

A beat of silence passed as Divya stared into her cup. Then softly, she said, “Tomorrow’s important for me, Aaru.”

Aarini turned serious. She set her mug aside and crawled across the bed to hug her sister tightly.

“You’re going to rock it, Divu. Don’t be nervous. You’re talented, smart, and hardworking. Tumhe yeh internship pakka milegi. I know it.”

Divya smiled against her shoulder.

“You think?”

“I know. And when you’re famous and working with huge companies, don’t forget your Lucy-riding sister who once saved you from a creepy cockroach in the bathroom.”

They both laughed, and slowly, the conversation faded into whispers and yawns. Aarini tucked herself into the blanket, her last thought trailing off like a floating cloud.

Ostrich. Hmph. Still can't believe he looked me in the eye and called me reckless... The nerve.

With that, she rolled over, the tiniest anger on her face, and let sleep carry her away.