The morning sun filtered through the tinted windows of the sleek black car, casting a soft golden hue over Vihaan’s face. He sat beside his elder brother Reyansh, his gaze fixed out the window, but his mind... somewhere entirely else.

Beside him, Reyansh scrolled through some documents on his tablet, occasionally adjusting the cuff of his charcoal-grey blazer.

“Bhai,” Vihaan finally spoke, breaking the silence,

“about the Sharma project—should we loop in the new design team from Pune? I think their approach to sustainable layout would suit the expansion.”

Reyansh glanced at him, nodding.

“Hmm, that’s a good thought. But make sure they’ve got clarity on budget constraints. I don’t want them submitting sky-high blueprints again.”

Vihaan smirked faintly.

“I’ll handle it. Also, the investors’ meet next Friday—should I sit in for the pre-review or you’d prefer—?”

“I’ll do the opening,” Reyansh cut in smoothly.

“But I want you there for the financial walkthrough. You know the numbers better.”

Vihaan gave a small nod, his jaw tightening slightly.

Come on, Vihaan. Say it. Say what’s on your mind.

He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat.
“Bhai… actually, I wanted to tell you something.”

Before he could continue, Reyansh—without looking away from his tablet—spoke.

“Yahi kehne wale the na ki aaj se tum khud ghar aayoge office se?”

(“You were just about to say that from today, you'll come home on your own from office, right?”)

Vihaan’s eyes widened.

“Wait—what? Bhai, how do you know?!”

Reyansh finally turned to look at him, a smug smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Vihaan... you’re my younger brother. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice what’s going on in your life?”

Vihaan blinked, stunned.

Reyansh continued coolly,

“Last evening, when you called me and said ‘Bhai, I’m going home… bas raste mein thoda kaam hai’, I knew right then—kuch toh gadbad hai.”

("Bhai, I’m going home… just have some work on the way" -"Something was definitely fishy.")

Vihaan swallowed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“And let’s be honest,” Reyansh added,

“I always know what’s going on in the office. And more importantly, I always know what’s going on in the lives of my family members.”

Vihaan finally broke into a sheepish smile.

“It’s not like that… actually, yesterday, Divya was going home alone, and she didn’t let Aarini come along because—well—whenever you two meet, it turns into a verbal battlefield…”

At the mention of Aarini, Reyansh scoffed. “Typical.”

Vihaan continued, “So, I offered Divya a lift… that’s all.”

Reyansh leaned back, arms crossed now, giving his brother a look that said I’m not buying that innocent act.

“I know. And I also know that from today onward, you’re going to be the one giving her a lift every evening.”

Vihaan’s mouth parted.

“Bhai… how do you know that?”

Reyansh chuckled, proud and amused.

“You told the driver to keep the other car parked in the office lot in the evenings. Did you really think I wouldn’t hear about it?”

Vihaan sighed, half-embarrassed, half-impressed.

“Damn. Nothing escapes you.”

“Exactly.”

Reyansh gave him a pointed look.

There was a long pause, and then came the teasing jab.

“Tumhe puri duniya mein wahi ladki mili pasand karne ke liye? Us jangli billi ki behen?”

(“Out of the whole world, you had to fall for her? The wildcat’s sister?”)

Vihaan burst out laughing, shaking his head.

“Bhai! She’s not that bad and Divya is actually... sweet. Cute. Smart. Kind. And funny.”

Reyansh rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, funny. But her sister? Aarini is not funny—she’s just a handful. Bohot ladaku hai.”

(“She’s very quarrelsome.”)

He mimicked her dramatic tone, “Piddi si hai aur samajhti hai Jhaansi ki Rani khud ko.”

(“She’s tiny and thinks she’s the Queen of Jhansi.”)

Vihaan chuckled again.

“Okay, okay. But seriously, Aarini won’t say anything now. Divya talked to her.”

Reyansh raised a brow, unconvinced.

“That ladaku won’t listen to anyone. Not even your Miss Peacemaker. Trust me. She’s a magnet for trouble. One day she’s going to drag herself into such a mess...”

He shook his head, muttering, “...and the next time she argues with me, I swear I’ll shut her up for good.”

Vihaan laughed, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry bhai. You two just need therapy... or maybe a boxing ring.”

Reyansh scoffed again but this time, the corner of his lips lifted in amusement.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment.
The car cruised along the tree-lined road, the city slowly beginning to pulse with life outside.

Vihaan leaned his head back, stealing a quick glance at his phone screen.

Divya’s chat still open.
Her words from last night second message still lit up on his screen.

“Good night, and thank you again :)”

He smiled faintly.

Why does such a simple message feel so warm? Why does it feel like something has started... something I can’t quite name yet?

His gaze shifted to his brother, who now had his arms folded, lost in thought.

He’s right, Vihaan mused. Maybe I do like her more than I’m willing to admit. Maybe this isn’t just a fleeting crush. Maybe... it’s already something deeper.

And yet, he wasn’t ready to say the word “love” aloud. Not yet.

But somewhere deep inside, he knew—he was getting there.

Slowly.

Silently.

Surely.

.

.

.

The hum of quiet efficiency filled the air as employees settled into their cubicles, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards playing like background music to the grand orchestra that was Oberoi Indersty.

Vihaan strode into his cabin with Divya following closely behind, both holding their notepads and files. The two had been working side by side the last few days, and though their conversations stayed strictly professional while they both did their work, there was a gentle undercurrent of comfort between them now—like the early bloom of trust.

Vihaan leaned forward across his desk as Divya laid out a document in front of him.

"This report," she began, her tone focused yet calm,

"has the proposed marketing campaign for the Italy expansion project. I made some edits based on yesterday's feedback."

Vihaan scanned through the pages with keen eyes, nodding occasionally.

"Hmm... you added the luxury branding hook here," he pointed out.

"Smart move. This will appeal more to our target demographic. Italians value elegance and heritage."

Divya's lips curled into a slight smile.

"Exactly. That was the idea."

Before Vihaan could say more, his PA knocked and entered politely.

"Sir, the meeting is about to start in ten minutes. Everyone's settling in."

Vihaan nodded, standing up smoothly.

"Alright. Thanks."

He turned to Divya and offered her a small smile—that rare, soft one that made her feel oddly acknowledged.

"You continue working on this. It looks really good, Divya. I’ll come back after the meeting and we can finalize it."

Divya smiled back, trying to keep it professional despite the flutter in her chest.

"Sure, sir. Good luck."

.

.

.

Conference Room

The room was a modern marvel—glass walls, an expansive oval table, screens ready to present, and a subtle scent of cedar in the air. Executives were already seated, murmuring amongst themselves, but the chatter came to a halt the moment Reyansh Oberoi stepped into the room.

He didn’t have to demand attention. He was attention.

Tall, sharply dressed in an all-black suit, with hair swept back perfectly and eyes that seemed to slice through silence—Reyansh owned the room with a presence that whispered of control, dominance, and precision.

Everyone stood.

He waved a hand slightly, voice calm but commanding.

"Be seated. Let’s begin."

Vihaan took his seat beside him, sliding his notepad open. His respect for his elder brother was undeniable, but he also knew this was the battlefield Reyansh mastered.

Reyansh glanced toward the screen where the Italy project outline was being shared.

"So, this is the luxury branding expansion we’re targeting in Milan and Rome."

He looked at one of the managers across the table.

"Status on partnerships?"

The man cleared his throat.

"We’re in discussion with three major distributors. One of them, Giordano & Figli, seems quite promising."

Reyansh tilted his head slightly. His voice lowered just a fraction, but the authority never left.

"Seems? We don’t run this empire on assumptions."

A ripple of tension passed through the table.

He switched effortlessly into Italian, looking directly at the screen:

"Se vogliamo conquistare il mercato italiano, dobbiamo pensare come loro. Non basta solo tradurre le nostre idee, dobbiamo parlare la loro lingua, la loro cultura."

(If we want to conquer the Italian market, we have to think like them. It's not enough to just translate our ideas, we need to speak their language, their culture.)

Vihaan, inspired by his brother's sharp insight, leaned forward slightly.

"What if we include a cultural segment in our campaign? Collaborate with a local Italian artist to design limited edition branding? It creates a bridge between our heritage and theirs."

Reyansh looked at him. His eyes sharp, assessing.

Then he nodded.

"Good. That could work. Authenticity matters."

Another Italian executive on screen nodded in agreement.

"Signor Oberoi, questa idea potrebbe davvero attirare l'interesse del pubblico locale."

( Mr. Oberoi, this idea could truly capture the local audience's interest.)

Reyansh clasped his hands in front of him, his tone steel-laced.

"Then let’s make it happen. No delays. I want the execution plan ready by next Monday."

Another executive hesitantly raised a concern.

"But sir, the branding team is still finalizing visuals..."

Reyansh didn’t flinch.

"Then they better finalize faster. Excellence doesn’t wait."

Vihaan watched in awe—as he always did. This was Reyansh in his element. Commanding not just with words, but with clarity, strategy, and fire. The man didn’t second guess. He didn’t hesitate. He decided, and the world followed.

No wonder people respected him so deeply. Or feared him, maybe a little too.

He remembered what Reyansh had said that morning:

"Tumhare zindagi mein kya chal raha hai mujhe pata na chale?"

(You think I won't know what's going on in your life?)

He smiled subtly.

.

.

.

After the Meeting

As the room emptied, Reyansh remained seated for a moment, eyes on the city skyline beyond the glass.

Vihaan stood beside him.

"You really set the tone in there."

Reyansh glanced sideways.

"You think being feared is bad? I think it keeps people efficient."

Vihaan chuckled.

"Or maybe you're just really good at scaring them."

Reyansh smirked faintly but said nothing.

As they walked out together, the glass doors behind them closed with a soft click—two brothers walking side by side. One wrapped in shadows and steel, the other wrapped in sunlight and new dreams.

And somewhere down the hall, a pair of eyes looked up from behind a file.

Divya.

The story... was just beginning.

.

.

.

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light through the glass wall of Reyansh Oberoi’s office, casting sharp streaks across the sleek mahogany desk where he sat—shoulders straight, brows drawn together, and eyes glued to his laptop screen. His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, the soft clicks of the keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet space.

There was something deeply hypnotic about watching Reyansh work—his presence demanded attention even in silence. Every movement, every flick of his gaze, carried the weight of discipline and command. He didn’t just lead—he dominated.

The door clicked softly, and his Personal Assistant, stepped inside with a quiet confidence, holding a tray with his usual coffee.

“Sir,” he said politely, setting the tray down in front of him,

“your coffee. Also, I’ve organized your schedule for tomorrow. You have a video conference with Mr. Farnetti from Milan at 9 AM sharp, followed by a finance review with Mr. Shah. Then your legal meeting at 2 PM and the board review at 5.”

Reyansh didn’t look up immediately. He was finalizing an edit on a presentation slide. Then, finally, he clicked save, leaned back in his chair, and reached for the coffee. His fingers brushed the ceramic mug, the warmth instantly grounding.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes flicking to him briefly.

“Leave the schedule here.”

He nodded, placing a printed version on his desk.

“Anything else, sir?”

“No. You can leave.”

He exited quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.

Reyansh took a long sip of his coffee, letting the bitterness anchor him in the moment. The caffeine didn’t just wake him up—it gave him focus.

Peace.

Until his phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the calm like a dagger. His gaze slid to the vibrating device, and his jaw immediately tensed when he saw the caller ID.

“Sahil.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and scoffed under his breath.

“Of course.”

Reyansh considered letting it ring. Just ignoring it and pretending the universe hadn’t decided to throw this interruption his way. But of course, that wasn't an option. Sahil was persistent. And dramatic. And loud.

He swiped to answer.

“Reyansh, where the hell are you?”

Sahil’s voice exploded through the speaker like a firecracker.

“You remember we were supposed to meet today, right? Don’t you dare give me any of your boring-ass work excuses. Just come here—I’m waiting, and I’m not listening to any drama. I’ll send the address. Come fast! Mujhe tujhe kisi se milwana bhi hai. Jaldi aa!”

Before Reyansh could even part his lips to respond, the call had already disconnected.

He stared at the screen in disbelief.

“Seriously?”

he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a dry scoff.

“This guy’s getting married and still acts like he’s in college.”

His fingers drummed on the armrest, the corners of his lips twitching—not quite a smile, not quite annoyance. It was always like this with Sahil. Spontaneous meetups, unwanted chaos, and surprises wrapped in loud instructions.

His phone buzzed again. This time it was a message. He had sent the address.

Reyansh stared at it. Thought for a second.

His eyes narrowed.

Should I go? I could ignore it… but then again, knowing him, he’ll probably show up here himself if I don’t.

And he said he wants to introduce me to someone... I’m not sure whether that should worry me or intrigue me. Knowing him, it could be both.

He shook his head slowly with a resigned sigh. “Sahil and his circus.”

Still, he stood from his chair. Rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. Adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit. With every motion, he slid right back into that polished, poised version of himself—Reyansh Oberoi, CEO, leader, untouchable.

He glanced at his reflection in the glass—sharp jaw, calm eyes, not a hair out of place. But there was something softer in his expression too. Something he didn’t often let anyone see. The remnants of a once carefree boyhood friend still holding onto his ties, no matter how tightly life tried to make him forget them.

He grabbed his phone and wallet, muttering,

“Let’s get this over with,” and exited the cabin, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

But little did he know…

He's “someone” wasn’t just someone.

And this casual interruption?

Was about to become one of the most unplanned twists in Reyansh Oberoi’s carefully orchestrated life.