The morning air was crisp, the sun casting a golden hue over the tall glass building that loomed before her—Oberoi Industries.

Divya Mehta stood at the base of the structure, craning her neck to take in its towering height. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, the nerves coiling tighter with every passing second. She clutched her file close, her fingers tightening around the leather folder that held her dreams.

"It’s just a meeting, not a space mission," she told herself, taking a shaky breath.

Behind her, a familiar buzzing sound came closer—Aarini on her ever-so-dramatic scooty, Lucy.

“Divuuu!” Aarini called out, parking dramatically beside her.

Divya turned, a small nervous smile breaking on her lips.

Aarini hopped off and grinned. “Don’t worry, sab acha hoga! You’re gonna rock it, okay? Tension mat lo.”

(“Don’t worry, everything will be fine! You’re gonna rock it, okay? Don’t worry.”)

Divya let out a breath.

“I hope so.”

Aarini gently handed her a small box.

“Yeh lunch... just in case. Or sun, jab kaam khatam ho jaaye na, mujhe call kar dena. I’ll pick you up.”

("This lunch... just in case. And listen, when you're done, give me a call. I'll pick you up.")

Divya nodded.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I’m gonna check out that bookstore nearby. I heard they have all kinds of novels. Romance, mystery, dark mafia ones with shirtless heroes... meri type ki!”

Aarini giggled.

Divya rolled her eyes.

“Go, before you embarrass me more!”

Laughing, Aarini blew her a flying kiss and zoomed away on Lucy, yelling, “Best of luck, Miss Intern!”

Divya turned back toward the building, her nervousness creeping back in. She scoffed under her breath and read the name again: OBEROI INDUSTRIES.

"Okay, Divya. Deep breath. You got this."

She entered the building, greeted by cool air-conditioning and polished marble floors. The receptionist looked up from her desk as Divya approached.

“Hi, I’m here for the internship interview,” Divya said politely.

The receptionist smiled, typed quickly, and nodded.

“Seventeenth floor. You’ll be meeting Vihaan Sir.”

Divya returned the smile and made her way to the elevator, pressing the button for the 17th floor. As the lift ascended, her nerves climbed with it.

Ding.

Stepping out, she was greeted by a tall man in a formal grey suit who seemed to be waiting for her.

“You must be Divya Mehta?”

She nodded.

“I’m Vihaan Sir’s PA. You and I spoke last time on call. Come, he’ll be here shortly. You can wait in his cabin.”

Divya followed him, her heels clicking softly on the pristine floor. He led her into a sleek office with glass walls and elegant furniture.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

Divya sat, smoothing her kurti and flipping through her documents to make sure everything was in place. Just as she was rechecking her resume, the door creaked open.

She turned instinctively—

—and froze.

Her breath caught.

Standing at the door, looking just as surprised as she felt, was Vihaan Oberoi—the very same man who had helped pull Aarini and her scooty out of traffic police yesterday.

“Aap?!” they both said in unison.

A second of stunned silence. And then they laughed.

Vihaan stepped in, his amusement still visible as he closed the door behind him.

“Small world, huh?”

Divya blinked. “You’re Vihaan Sir?”

“Apparently.” He gestured toward the chair. “Please, sit.”

She sat slowly, still not over the shock. How was she supposed to stay professional now?

Vihaan settled into his chair with a slight smile and called his PA.

“Two coffees, please.”

He turned back to her. “So, let’s talk about the internship.”

Divya quickly shifted into business mode, handing over her documents and answering questions about her experience, qualifications, and goals. Her confidence slowly returned as they talked. Vihaan, to his credit, remained professional, though a teasing smile never left his face.

As the interview wrapped up, Vihaan leaned back just as the PA walked in with two steaming cups of coffee.

He handed one to her.

“Thanks,” Divya murmured, accepting it carefully.

Vihaan chuckled. “I didn’t expect the girl I helped yesterday to walk into my office today. Fate’s got a weird sense of humor.”

Divya finally relaxed a bit, smiling. “And I didn’t expect the guy from yesterday to be this.”

“hmm.” He sipped his coffee, eyes glinting. “How’s Lucy, by the way?”

Divya let out a small laugh. “She’s fine. Aarini is obsessed with her. Gave her a name and everything. She treats that scooty like a living being.”

“Oh, so you two are sisters?”

“Cousins,” Divya corrected. “But more like sisters. She’s... a lot.”

Vihaan chuckled. “Yeah, I figured. She called bhai an ostrich.”

Divya choked on her coffee and coughed, laughing. “Sorry!”

Vihaan grinned. “It's ok. He asked I looked like an ostrich in a suit. He had been called many things, but that one was new.”

“I swear, she’s unfiltered. But she means well.”

“I can tell.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence. Then Vihaan straightened a bit.

“Well, Divya, your profile is excellent. Consider the internship yours. You can join from tomorrow.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you so much!”

“You earned it.”

They both stood. Divya gave a small bow of gratitude. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She turned to leave, then paused. “Thank you again... for yesterday too.”

Vihaan smiled. “Anytime.”

As Divya left the office, she pulled out her phone and quickly texted Aarini:

Divya: Interview Done! Coming down. Café near office. Come fast.

Meanwhile, back in the cabin, Vihaan leaned against his chair, sipping his coffee with a smirk.

“We meet again... unexpectedly.” he murmured, amused. “Let’s see what else fate has planned.”

.

.

.
The bookstore smelled like aged paper, freshly brewed coffee, and temptation. The shelves were stacked higher than her expectations from a Monday morning, and each aisle promised a new emotional trauma in the form of dark, mysterious male leads and helpless heroines with backstories thicker than the book’s spine.

Her fingers danced along the edges of the titles until she spotted it—a matte black cover with silver embossed letters and a blood-red rose dead center.

“Oho,” she whispered, her eyes lighting up like Diwali crackers.

“This has to be a mafia romance. Look at that font. That’s not just pain, that’s generational trauma waiting to unfold.”

She reached for the book, already imagining the emotionally unavailable don whispering something dark like, “I warned you not to fall for me, cara mia…”

But just as her fingers brushed the cover, her phone buzzed.

Divya: Interview Done! Coming down. Café near office. Come fast.

Aarini rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.

“Ugh, timing toh dekho… just when I was about to meet a possessive psychopath on paper.”

She gave the book one last longing look, as if she was leaving behind a secret lover at the train station. Then glanced at the four books already in her arms.

“Okay, okay. Four is enough. For now.” She flipped her hair with a dramatic flair no one saw but herself and strutted toward the checkout like the main character she definitely believed she was.

As she stepped outside and balanced the paper bag on her scooty’s seat, she murmured,

“This shop is good. Near Divya’s office too. If I ever need more... I’ll just emotionally blackmail her into picking them up.”

She revved her scooty and zoomed off like a quirky comet on a mission.

.

.

.

Café  | 12:32 AM

Divya was already seated, nervously stirring her iced americano like it was some potion of patience.

Aarini barged in with her book bag, sunglasses on, and the dramatic energy of a woman who just fought off a horde of fictional mafia men.

“There she is,” Divya smiled, watching her sister approach with the confidence of someone who always walked into the wrong room and made it hers.

Aarini plopped down across from her, tossed her bag on the side, and said in full TV-serial tone, “I know it. I knew it. You got the internship, didn’t you?”

Divya blinked.

“I didn’t even say—”

“Don’t insult my sixth sense, Divu. You’re my sister. I know the level. I know the capacity,” she added, tapping her own temple like a detective revealing the final clue.

Divya let out a laugh and shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m iconic,” Aarini corrected, flipping her hair again before taking a sip of her juice.

“Now spill. Details. All of it. What’s the gossip?”

Divya leaned forward, her eyes holding back a secret like it was wrapped in velvet. “You’ll never guess who the company belongs to.”

Aarini raised an eyebrow. “Ambani?”

“Be serious.”

“Kohli? Don’t tell me it’s cricketers now.”

Divya sighed. “It’s Oberoi Industries.”

Aarini blinked.

“Okay. Sounds elite."
Her brows furrowed. She sat up straighter.

Divya nodded slowly.

“Yes. That guy. The one we bumped into yesterday? Scooty accident? That guy?”

Aarini’s jaw dropped.

“The guy who almost called the cops and other one who settled the whole thing like some overconfident Bollywood hero?”

“The same saviour guy. He’s the one who interviewed me today.”

Aarini let out a gasp so dramatic it turned heads at the next table. She choked on her juice and thumped her chest.

“Wait—wait. So... your internship boss is the man whose shoes you almost ran over?”

Divya chuckled. “Yes.”

“That means...” Aarini’s eyes widened. “The other guy! The one I called an ostrich... you’re saying he’s...”

Divya gave her the slowest, most painful nod. “Reyansh Oberoi. CEO. Vihaan’s elder brother.”

Aarini dropped her drink.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

The universe paused for a second. Even the background music seemed to stop.

“I called a CEO... a walking, talking ostrich. In public!”

Divya was laughing now, almost falling off her chair.

“You did. Repeatedly.”

“I said he had 'ostrich energy'! Divu!” Aarini looked horrified.

“I mocked his gait. His neck.”

Divya held her stomach, trying to stop the tears of laughter.

“I told you not to say that out loud!”

“I thought he was a random angry uncle! Not the heir to a billion-dollar company!”

Divya calmed herself and took a sip of her drink. “Well... too late now.”

Aarini groaned and dropped her head to the table.

“I need to fake my death and move to Manali.”

Divya patted her hand.

“Relax. He probably didn’t even remember you.”

Aarini looked up, sulking.

“I called him a suspicious peacock too. In my mind.”

Divya burst out laughing again. “You’re hopeless.”

After a beat of silence, both sisters looked at each other... and broke into hysterical laughter.

They sipped their drinks, giggling over Aarini’s accidental insult fest and Divya’s shocking internship reveal.

“You really think I’ll survive this internship?” Divya asked after a pause.

Aarini grinned, her tone soft now.

“Of course. You were made for this, Divu. You’ve always been serious and passionate and so stupidly hardworking. You belong there.”

Divya looked at her sister, warmth bubbling in her chest. “You always know what to say.”

Aarini shrugged, pretending to inspect her nails. “I’m the cool one. It’s my job.”

They clinked their glasses like champagne and laughed again.

And just like that, life had decided to surprise them both—one with an internship, and the other with a lifetime of avoiding the CEO she called a glorified bird.

_________

The city stretched out under the evening sky, buildings glowing in gold and rust as the sun dipped low. The Oberoi Audi cruised through the traffic, its sleek body glinting beneath the last streaks of daylight.

Reyansh was behind the wheel, his fingers casually tapping against the steering. His eyes, sharp and focused, occasionally flicked toward the rear-view mirror—but today, they wandered sideways more than usual.

Beside him, Vihaan sat in the passenger seat, looking far too cheerful for someone who just wrapped up a long day at the office.

Too cheerful.

Reyansh noticed the slight upturn of his brother’s lips, the way his eyes had a dazed gleam—as if he were reliving a moment no one else knew about.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Reyansh asked, unable to help himself.

“What’s going on? You look like a damn lover boy.”

Vihaan snapped out of his thoughts, startled.

“Huh? Bhai? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act innocent. I saw that smile. It’s not the ‘I closed a million-dollar deal’ smile. It’s the ‘someone’s living in my head rent-free’ smile.”

Vihaan laughed, slightly embarrassed.

“You’ve watched too many series.”

“No, I’ve just lived long enough to know that face.” Reyansh smirked, shifting gears as the car slid into a quieter lane.

“So, who is she?”

Vihaan shook his head.

“There’s no ‘she’. Just work.”

“Work makes you smile like a high schooler?”

“Fine,” Vihaan gave in, chuckling.

“There was an internship interview today, remember?”

“Hmm.” Reyansh nodded.

“So? How did it go?”

“Good. We might’ve found someone solid. She’s sharp, confident, great with strategy… probably the best candidate we’ve had so far.”

Reyansh’s brows arched.

“She again. You keep saying she. I see a pattern.”

Vihaan rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that. It’s just… surprising, that’s all.” He paused, lips twitching.

“Actually… you remember yesterday? The scooty girls?”

Reyansh tensed subtly, his jaw ticking.

“Don’t remind me. I’ve been trying to erase that memory. One of them called me—what was it—an ostrich? I hate that girl.” His voice held a touch of disbelief and annoyance.

Vihaan laughed, nodding eagerly.

“Exactly. The quiet one? Divya. She’s the one who came in for the interview.”

Reyansh blinked, thrown.

“She? Seriously?” He scoffed.

“Wow. Fate has a terrible sense of humor.”

“She’s good, bhai. Like… really good. You’ll see her work soon.”

Reyansh sighed, muttering under his breath.

“So now even my professional space isn’t safe from those two.”

Vihaan grinned mischievously. “By the way… I found out the name of the other one.”

Reyansh gave him a look.

“What other one?”

Vihaan leaned back, smirking.

“The drama queen. Your personal insult generator. The one who gifted you your new nickname. Ostrich.”

Reyansh exhaled.

“Don’t care. Not interested. Don’t even want to know.”

Vihaan ignored him.

“Her name is Aarini.”

Silence settled in the car for a second too long.

Reyansh’s fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel. He didn’t look at Vihaan, but the name echoed in his mind—like a whisper, or a spark.

Aarini.

Short.

Unusual.

Kind of… pretty.

No. Not pretty. Irritating. Trouble. Full-on chaos in a five-foot-five package.

"Naam kitna shant sound kr rha h pr uski harkte ladaku viman jaisi."

“Great,” he muttered.

“Why are you telling me? Should I send her a thank-you card for the nickname?”

Vihaan chuckled as the car turned into the grand Oberoi Mansion driveway.

“Just thought you should know. She might be around. You know… in case your feathers get ruffled again.”

Reyansh shot him a dry glare as the car parked.

They stepped out, walking toward the massive doors of their home. Vihaan entered first, still smiling. Reyansh lingered behind, taking his time.

His thoughts drifted back—not to work, not to clients, not to meetings. But to a girl with fire in her eyes, sarcasm in her voice, and the audacity to call him an ostrich without flinching.

“Aarini,” he murmured under his breath.

He reached his room, shutting the door behind him. The walls were familiar. The silence comforting.

And yet… her name refused to leave his mind.

“So… troublemaker, you have a name.”

A smirk played on his lips.

“Let’s see how long you stay out of my world. Or how long before you barge right back in.”

.

.

.

.

The silence of the Oberoi Mansion was calming, broken only by the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Reyansh sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened, glasses perched on his nose—completely immersed in his laptop screen as spreadsheets and reports glowed in soft blue light.

He typed swiftly, focused, expression sharp.

Until.

Ping!

His phone lit up beside him. Group notification.

He ignored it.

Ping! Ping!

He sighed.

Another ping. Then another. And another.

With a groan, Reyansh picked up the phone and unlocked it, knowing exactly where this was going.

Oberoi Fam-Jam Group (16 unread messages)

He scrolled.

One glance, and he nearly choked on his own annoyance.

First photo:
A proud ostrich strutting like it owned the desert.

Caption by his cousin Neil:
“Spotted: Reyansh bhai in his natural habitat.”

Second photo:
A close-up of an ostrich blinking dramatically.

Third:
An ostrich in a tuxedo. With a GIF.

Fourth…

He froze.

His sister Pari had clearly outdone herself.

It was a full-blown collage—half of it was Reyansh at a family wedding looking deadly serious, the other half… an ostrich with an identical expression.

Caption:
“Twins?? Or long-lost brothers? You decide.”

Reyansh stared at it. Blankly.

Then scoffed. “What the hell?”

He flung the phone on the bed like it had betrayed him.

“My own family has turned into a meme factory.”

He rubbed his temples.

“They were supposed to support me. Respect me. Not… morph me into a damn bird.”

His eyes flicked back to the phone, still glowing with the cursed collage.

And his thoughts, unwillingly, drifted again to her.

Miss Troublemaker. Miss Aarini-with-an-attitude.
She had started this. With just one word.
Ostrich.

Now the name had practically become his brand.

He shut his laptop with a snap and grumbled,
“If Next time we meet, Aarini… I’m not going easy on you. This time, I’ll be the one driving you crazy.”

He grabbed his phone, switched it off like it had committed a personal crime, and tossed it to the side.

Falling back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, he stared at the ceiling.

Silence returned. Finally.

Except in his mind, where one name still echoed—

Aarini.

And somewhere deep down, beneath all the mock irritation, a reluctant smirk tugged at his lips.