The orange hues of the setting sun spilled across the pavement like melted gold, casting long shadows outside Oberoi Industries. The day had finally slowed its pace, but Divya Mehta stood still—leaning slightly against the glass gate, her eyes glued to her phone screen as her fingers aimlessly scrolled.

Her brows were slightly furrowed, not because of what she was reading, but because her mind was somewhere else. Lost. Floating between worry, frustration, and a heavy silence she hadn’t admitted to herself.

The cab she booked was still ten minutes away.

Her deep maroon kurti fluttered lightly with the evening breeze, but her mind remained tangled. Aarini hadn’t come to pick her up today, and that had been her decision. After what happened last time between Aarini and Reyansh Sir... she didn’t want another scene. Another face-off.

She didn’t even hear the footsteps behind her until she heard her name, warm and familiar.

“Divya?”

She blinked, turning slowly.

It was Vihaan.

Stepping out of the office gates, his blazer casually slung over one shoulder, his tie loosened slightly at the collar—he looked fresh out of a business magazine cover. Yet his smile was casual, almost... boyish.

“Sir,” Divya smiled politely, slipping her phone inside her sling bag.

“What happened? Yahan kyun khadi hain? Aaj Aarini nahi aayi aapko lene Lucy par?”

(“What happened? Why are you standing here? Aarini didn’t come to pick you up on Lucy today?”)

Divya let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No, actually... last time jab Aarini mujhe lene aayi thi toh Reyansh Sir aur uske beech fir se bahas ho gayi thi…”

(“No, actually... the last time Aarini came to pick me up, she and Reyansh Sir had another argument again...”)

Vihaan raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Haan… mujhe pata hai. Aarini is like fire. Aur bhai ke saamne koi muh nahi kholta... but she? She takes him head-on.”

(“Yeah… I know. Aarini is like fire. And no one talks back to my brother… but she? She’s fearless.”)

Divya laughed softly, the memory flashing in her eyes.

“I know... that's why I told her not to come anymore. I’ll manage. Don’t want another round of fireworks.”

Vihaan smiled, nodding in understanding. He looked at the road briefly before turning back to her.

“Well... in that case, come. I’ll drop you home. Kab tak cab ka wait karengi?”

(“How long will you wait for a cab?”)

Divya blinked, surprised.

“No, sir, it’s fine. I’ll manage…”

“And besides,” she added softly, “Aap toh Reyansh sir ke saath jaate ho mostly.”

Vihaan’s lips curled into a charming grin.

“True. But bhai has to stay back today—new project ki preparations. So he’s going to be late. I’m heading home now anyway. No problem, come with me.”

“Sir, really it’s okay—”

“No, Divya.”

His voice was gentle but firm, cutting her off. “Come.”

There was a strange warmth in the way he said her name.

Not forced.

Not formal.

Just... natural.

With a hesitant nod, Divya followed him to the car. The drive began in silence as he started the engine, the mellow playlist in the background playing something soft and old. The kind of music that calmed nerves and said things words couldn’t.

“Address?” he asked, eyes on the road.

She gave it, and he repeated it to make sure he got it right. After a pause, she softly said,

“Thank you, sir.”

Vihaan glanced at her with a teasing smile.

“Divya, don’t call me sir.”

She blinked again.

“But... you’re my boss. How can I just call you by name?”

“In the office, fine. But yeh office toh nahi hai. Outside work, you can just call me Vihaan. Like friends. Okay?”

“Friends?” she asked, surprised at the word.

“I think we are... ya? A little?” he smiled again, that same boyish grin returning.

Divya smiled shyly.

“Okay... si— I mean... Vihaan.”

He chuckled at the way she corrected herself, the tips of his ears slightly red.
There was something unexpectedly sweet in the moment.

The drive became lighter after that. Words started to flow like water—easy and spontaneous.

“So, Divya... family mein kaun kaun hai?”

(“So, who’s in your family, Divya?”)

“Mere papa, maa, choti maa, chote papa—matlab Aarini ke mom-dad—phir do chhote bhai... Rahul and Veer.”

(“My dad, mom, stepmom, stepdad—that is, Aarini’s parents—and two younger brothers... Rahul and Veer.”)

“Big family,” Vihaan smiled, impressed.

“Must be fun.”

Divya nodded, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Yeah... chaotic. But sweet.”

Then, with curiosity twinkling in her eyes, she asked,

“Aur aapke ghar mein?”

(“And your family?”)

Vihaan glanced at her with a fond expression.

“Dadaji, bade papa-badi maa—Reyansh bhai ke parents—phir mere maa-papa, Pari chhoti behen, aur Neil...  younger brother.”

“Aap sab ek hi ghar mein rehte ho?”

(“You all live in the same house?”)

“Yes,” he said proudly.

“Ek hi house mein. Loud. Loving. And sometimes... crazy.”

They both laughed again.

The car rolled through the evening streets, headlights casting warm glows over their faces. The lighthearted conversation filled the space between them, like music more intimate than the stereo playing in the background.

A few minutes later, the car slowed in front of Divya’s home.

“Thank you... really,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“For the ride... and for the company.”

Vihaan smiled. “Anytime.”

She stepped out, turned once more at the gate, and waved.

“Bye... Vihaan.”

He raised a hand in return, his smile gentle and warm.

He didn’t drive away immediately.

Instead, he watched as she disappeared inside. And once the door closed behind her, he exhaled, still holding on to the echo of her voice, the softness in her smile, and the spark of something... unexpected.

"Why does it feel like... peace?" he thought.

His fingers curled lightly over the steering wheel, eyes still on the gate, now shut. But in his mind, her face lingered—like the aftertaste of something sweet.

And when he finally turned the key and pulled onto the road, her smile stayed with him, dancing in the corner of his mind like a quiet little memory he wasn’t ready to let go of.
.

.

.

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the room as Divya stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head like a loose crown and her cheeks still slightly pink from the warm shower. She wore a fresh cotton kurta, comfortable and light, perfect for the evening. Her face looked calmer now, but her eyes still had that flicker — that trace of something unspoken.

Something warm.

Something… unexpected.

Aarini, sprawled across the bed with a bowl of chips and her ever-so-dramatic energy, looked up and smirked. Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she gave her elder sister a look — the kind of look that said: Oh I know something.

She took a slow, dramatic crunch of the chip and said,

“Oh ho! Toh mujhe isliye mana kiya tha lene aane se? Nayi company mil gayi hai madam ko — Vihaan sir!”

("Oh ho! So that’s why you told me not to come pick you up? Because madam’s found new company — Vihaan sir!")

Divya rolled her eyes, grabbing her comb from the dresser as if ignoring her sister could silence her. But she knew better. Aarini was like an untamed radio — once on, you couldn't turn her off.

"Pagal hai kya? Aisa kuch nahi hai. Cab ka wait kar rahi thi bas, tabhi wo aa gaye aur bola ki drop kar denge... aur kuch office ke kaam ki bhi baat karni thi," Divya replied calmly, trying to sound utterly professional.

("Are you mad? There’s nothing like that. I was just waiting for a cab and he came by and said he’ll drop me. And we had to discuss some office work too.")

Aarini raised an eyebrow in pure Bollywood-style sass.

"Oh really? Bas office ka kaam hi tha? Tabhi toh jab ghar ayi thi tumhara face tamatar jaise lal tha!"

("Oh really? Just office work? Then why was your face red like a tomato when you entered the house?!")

Divya groaned, brushing her hair faster as if speed might erase the blush now returning to her cheeks.

"Aarini, bas kar yaar. Kuch bhi mat soch. He’s my boss. Don’t talk nonsense."

("Aarini, stop it. Don’t imagine things. He’s my boss. Don’t talk rubbish.")

But Aarini wasn’t one to let go of a juicy moment.

"So what? Boss ho ya koi bhi — office romances are a thing, Divs! Sab chhup chhup ke pyaar karte hain, boss employee ke liye possessive ho jata hai, akela chhodta hi nahi... aur end mein shaadi kar leta hai!" Aarini gushed, throwing a pillow in the air like it was her bridal bouquet.

("So what? Whether he’s your boss or not — office romances are a thing, Divs! Everyone falls in love secretly, the boss gets all possessive, won’t leave the girl alone… and in the end, he marries her!")

She dramatically held her hand to her chest and whispered,

"Saare nightmares khatam, ek fairytale love story shuru... uff! Just like the novels I read. Wah!"

("All nightmares over, a fairytale love story begins… uff! Just like the novels I read. Wow!")

Divya laughed and shook her head, clearly not winning this round.

"Tu aur tere sapne... Kuch nahi hai humare beech mein, Aarini. Don’t overthink. He was just being sweet. A nice man, that's all. Kuch zyada nahi."

("You and your dreams… There’s nothing between us, Aarini. Don’t overthink. He was just being sweet. A nice man, that’s all. Nothing more.")

But Aarini grinned devilishly.

"Abhi nahi hai, but future mein ho sakta hai. Kya pata mere hone wale jiju ban jaaye!"

("There might be nothing now, but who knows about the future? Maybe he’ll become my future brother-in-law!")

Then with mock horror, she added,

"Pehle toh main nahi chahti thi ki uss ostrich se tumhara koi connection ho… but Vihaan is a good guy. Approved! Ostrich ko jhel lungi jiju ke bhai ke roop mein."

("Earlier I didn’t want you to have any connection with that ostrich [Reyansh]… but Vihaan is a good guy. Approved! I’ll tolerate the ostrich if it means he’s my jiju’s brother.")

Divya shook her head with a smile, about to scold her again — when her phone buzzed with a notification. She reached to grab it, but Aarini, with ninja-level reflexes, pounced on it first.

"Aaru! Mera phone de!" Divya panicked.

("Aaru! Give me my phone!")

But Aarini’s eyes were already scanning the message, and her lips curled into a devilish grin.

"Ohoho... kya keh rahi thi tu? Kuch nahi hai?!"

("Oh hoho… what were you saying? There’s nothing?!")

"Kya hua? Kis ka message hai? Bata na!" Divya asked, half-annoyed, half-afraid.

("What happened? Whose message is it? Tell me!")

Aarini dodged her sister and read aloud in a teasing voice:

"‘I hope you were comfortable during the ride. From now on, I’ll drop you home. It’s on my way anyway, so don’t worry.’”

Then with a mischievous grin, she added,

“Aur aakhir mein likha hai… ‘Goodnight. See you tomorrow.’”

Divya’s eyes widened, and she lunged to snatch the phone, but Aarini was already running around the room, holding it above her head.

"Aaru! I swear main tujhe maar dungi agar phone nahi diya toh!"

("Aaru! I swear I’ll hit you if you don’t give me the phone!")

"Chill yaar!" Aarini laughed.

"Bas itna toh bola hai ki ab woh tumhe roj drop karega. Matlab... roj Vihaan sir ke saath office entry. Wah!"

("Chill, girl! He just said he’ll drop you daily now. That means… daily office entries with Vihaan sir. Wow!")

She finally handed the phone to Divya, still giggling.

Divya looked down at the message, her heart doing a tiny somersault. He was just being kind, she reminded herself… but then why did her lips curve into such a shy smile?

She quietly typed back:
"Thank you. It was really sweet of you."

Aarini flopped back on the bed, grinning.

“Bas ab toh pakka! Kuch toh hone wala hai tum dono ke beech mein... ya phir already ho chuka hai?”

("Now I’m 100% sure! Something is definitely going to happen between you two… or maybe it already has?")

Divya chuckled and tossed a pillow at her.

"Soya ja ab sapno ki dukaan!"

("Go to sleep now, dream merchant!")

They both laughed, giggling under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Two sisters, tangled in teasing, love, and a whisper of something new — the beginning of something unexpected.

And as the night slowly wrapped them in its blanket, Divya’s smile lingered a little longer than usual…

And Aarini? She was already planning the wedding hashtags in her head.

_______

The room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the soft yellow lamp on the side table and the screen of Vihaan’s phone that he was still staring at. He had just received Divya's reply.

"Thank you. It was really sweet of you."

Just simple words.

And yet, Vihaan had read them at least ten times already.

His thumb hovered over the screen, as if memorizing each letter, each emoji.

A smile tugged at his lips — soft, involuntary. The kind that refuses to fade even when you're trying to look serious.

He leaned back against the headboard, phone still in hand.

“Sorry bhai... ab se aap akela aana padega,” he murmured under his breath, chuckling to himself.

“But I think... I feel something for Divya.”

There was a thoughtful pause as his gaze dropped to the screen again.

“Aur agar sach mein kuch hai... toh mujhe sure hona hoga. I need to know if this is just a passing feeling or something deeper. And more than that... I want to know what Divya feels too.”

His heart beat a little faster at that thought — the uncertainty of it, the hope.

He exhaled and closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the moment settle inside him.
Then, with an amused shake of his head, he looked down again, scrolling through his phone.

“I never thought someone would catch my attention like this... so soon, so unexpectedly. But I think... I already like her. Or maybe... it’s more than just like.”

He opened Instagram.

Fingers tapping instinctively, he searched for her name — Divya Mehta.

When her profile finally popped up, he froze.

“Private account.”

Of course.

“Mysterious Miss Divya...” he smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. His thumb hovered over the ‘Follow’ button.

He hesitated.

“Should I? Shouldn’t I? Will she think I’m too eager? Or is it fine? We talk every day now, we’ve shared long drives, awkward silences, and even shared laughter...”

He sighed, and finally, with a quick breath in —

Click.

Follow Request Sent.

A second later, he tossed his phone on the bed and stood up. Only to pick it up again ten seconds later.

And then, it happened.

Follow request accepted.

“Wait—what?” he blinked, eyes wide.

“She... she accepted? Already?”

His heart did a small victory dance as he quickly opened her profile, like a kid who just unwrapped a gift before Christmas.

There she was.

Smiling in a sunlit selfie. Standing with a group of kids. A photo of her sipping chai by a beautiful lake view. Another of her in a traditional dress, all grace and calm.

“Miss Divya... your Instagram is telling a very different story about you,” he thought with a grin.

It wasn’t the usual show-off profile. It was warm.

Real.

Honest.

Just like her.

He paused on one of her pictures — she was laughing, eyes crinkling, head slightly tilted. And something about that candid moment stirred something deep inside him.

He smiled to himself.

“What are you doing to me, Divya Mehta?”

He didn’t even realize when his eyelids began to droop.

His phone still in his hand, Divya’s smiling photo still on the screen.

And slowly, with a faint smile still on his lips... Vihaan drifted to sleep.

With one thought circling in his mind —

“Maybe... just maybe... this story is already beginning.”