As the night deepened, I finally gave in to the exhaustion that had been creeping up on me. Placing my glass down, I headed to the bedroom, each step heavy with fatigue as my eyelids grew heavier by the minute.

Sliding into bed, I felt the plush mattress embrace me, its softness dissolving the day’s tension. A deep sigh escaped my lips, and as I closed my eyes, the sound of my heartbeat echoed in my ears like a gentle drumbeat.

-----

The next morning, I woke up feeling recharged, the exhaustion from the previous night erased by a restful sleep. Tossing off the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my mind already buzzing with plans for the day.

After slipping into my workout gear, I grabbed my water bottle and headed out, ready to push my limits.

As I entered the gym, the familiar smell of sweat and iron greeted me, sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins. I started my routine, my muscles burning with effort.

As I worked out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

“Usko pasand toh aunga na main? (Will she even like me?)” I mumbled under my breath, turning sideways and examining my physique with a critical eye.

I flexed my arms, leaned forward slightly, and continued scrutinizing my reflection. Engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Zayn sneaking up behind me until dhappa! He smacked my shoulder hard, startling me out of my trance.

“Kya kar raha hai bhai? Itna kya ghur raha hai apne aap ko? Aaj tak kabhi nahi dekha tujhe aise khud ko niharte hue! (What’s up with you today? I’ve never seen you admiring yourself like this before!),” he said, smirking.

“Hmm... woh...” I fumbled with my words, trying to come up with an excuse. Finally, I blurted out, “Tell me one thing... does my body look okay, ya aur improvement ki zarurat hai? (Or do I need to improve more?)”

Zayn froze mid-laugh, staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Tu yeh puch raha hai... woh bhi mujhse? (You’re asking me this? Seriously?)” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Yaar, mazak udana tha toh kisi aur baat pe uda. Body ke baare mein puchne ki kya zarurat thi? (If you wanted to make fun of me, you could’ve chosen a different topic. Why this?)” he added with an exaggeratedly pitying look.

“Bakwas mat kar. Jitna pucha hai utna bol. (Stop the nonsense and just answer the question.),” I snapped.

Shaking his head, Zayn smirked.

“Aise hi bandiyan nahi marti hain. Ek baar charo taraf dekh le, ladkiyan kaise tereko dekh ke drool kar rahi hain. Aur tu yeh puch raha hai body kaisi hai? (Girls don’t just swoon for no reason. Look around, women are literally drooling over you, and you’re questioning your body?)”

Before I could respond, he continued dramatically, “Kisi ne kuch bola tujhe? Naam bata abhi, uski khabar leta hoon! (Did someone say something to you? Tell me their name, I’ll deal with them right now!)”

He started to walk away, then abruptly turned back, his expression incredulous.

“Wait... tujhe kab se doosron ke opinion ki zarurat pad gayi?THE GREAT IRFAZ AHMED,the CEO of Stitch Scape Fabrics? Jisne business world ko hila diya tha at the age of 23? Woh banda aaj self-conscious ho raha hai? (When did you start caring about others’ opinions? The great Irfaz Ahmed, who shook the business world at 23, is self-conscious now?)”

Dramatically slapping his forehead, he added, “Haye Allah! Agar aise log self-conscious ho sakte hain, toh hum jaise average log kahan jayen? (Oh God, if someone like you can be self-conscious, where should average people like me go?)”

I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my irritation.

“Drama band kar, aur dafa ho ja. Mujhe workout karne de. (Stop the drama and get lost. Let me finish my workout.),” I snapped, slipping on my headphones to drown out his nonsense.

Still, I could hear him chuckling as he walked away.

-----

Back at my penthouse, I showered and got dressed, choosing a maroon suit paired with a black shirt. The watch on my wrist glinted in the morning sunlight, radiating confidence. I felt unstoppable, ready to leave an impression no one would forget.

Descending the stairs, I noticed Zayn already waiting for me. Dropping onto the plush sofa, I grabbed my tablet and began scrolling through the day’s schedule.

“Lunch se pehle kiske saath meeting hai? (Who’s the meeting with before lunch?)” I asked him without looking up.

“Miss Khan ke saath. Aaj dresses finalize karni hain. Pata chalega kaisi fabric unko chahiye. (It’s with Miss Khan. Today, we need to finalize the dresses and find out what fabric she prefers.),” he replied casually.

“Miss Khan,” I repeated her name, almost to myself.

“Kuch kaha? (Did you say something?)” Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow.

I quickly shook my head, but he wasn’t letting it slide. “Par maine suna... dheemiii... halki... si kisi ka naam... kisi ne liya... woh bhi bade pyaar se. (But I heard it... soft... gentle... someone saying a name... with so much affection.),” he teased, his grin widening.

“Kaam ki bohot kami hai na tujhe? Aur doon? Overtime karna hai ek hafte ke liye? Bata. (Seems like you’re lacking work, huh? Want me to give you some? How about overtime for a week?)” I threatened, my voice sharp.

Zayn just chuckled, clearly enjoying himself, while I shook my head, trying to focus back on my schedule.

I found myself smiling in anticipation.

“Bring it on, Miss Raincoat. I’m coming for you.”

I got up from the sofa and walked over to the espresso machine, brewing myself a strong shot to get my day started. The rich aroma filled the air as I poured the espresso into a cup, feeling the caffeine coursing through my veins as I took a sip.

-----

I headed to the office to tackle the paperwork, signing documents with precision and efficiency. With that task out of the way, I made my way to ’s office, feeling a sense of anticipation building up inside me.

As I entered her office, I was struck by her elegant appearance.

She was wearing a stunning black abaya, paired with a delicate blush pink veil that framed her face. Her eyes sparkled, and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was, even without revealing her face.

The meeting began, and Miss Khan unveiled her latest creations: three exquisite outfits designed specifically for the winter season, which was just around the corner. As she showcased the designs, I was impressed by the attention to detail and the way the fabrics seemed to shimmer in the light.

After a thorough discussion, we finally signed the contract, solidifying our partnership. With the formalities out of the way, we delved into further discussions about the launch strategy.

“We need to think strategically about how to introduce these dresses to the market,”

Miss Khan said, her eyes shining with determination.

I nodded in agreement.

“I think we should start by launching the dresses on our online website and begin taking bookings. This will create a buzz around the collection and give us an idea of the demand.”

Miss Khan nodded, her veil fluttering slightly as she did so.

“I like that idea. We can also offer exclusive discounts to our loyal customers to incentivize them to make a purchase.”

As we continued to brainstorm, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement about the upcoming launch. With Miss Khan’s stunning designs and our combined expertise, I was confident that we were on the path to creating something truly special.

As lunchtime arrived, I noticed everyone was unfocused.

“Miss Khan, let’s wrap this up for today, shall we?” I suggested, glancing at the clock.

“Yeah, sure... let’s continue later,” she agreed, gathering her things.

As we all departed, she also left without saying goodbye, leaving me feeling a bit disappointed.

As I opened the door, I collided with her.

“Mr. Ahmed, lagta hai aap apni aankhen asmaan par rakh ke aaye ho (Mr. Ahmed, it seems you’ve come with your eyes in the sky),” she said playfully.

“Miss Khan, aapki shakal hi itni pyaari hai ki hamari aankhein hame asmaan par rakhna hi padha (Miss Khan, your face is so lovely that our eyes had no choice but to look at the sky),” he replied with a smirk, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Mr. Ahmed, agar aap apni aankhein asmaan se utar lein, to kahin hamare Suraj ji aap par haawi na ho jaye aur aap Mr. Ahmed se ‘taale hue Ahmed’ na ban jaye (Mr. Ahmed, if you take your eyes off the sky, our Sun might overpower you and you could become ‘Locked-Up Ahmed’),” she teased with a playful grin.

I asked, “Why are you back?”

She smiled and said, “Hmm, do you have any plans for lunch? If not, come to my office, I want to discuss the project. And I’ll order something for you.”

I agreed, “Sure, go ahead. I’ll have Russian salad.”

She let out a mock-disapproving “Huhh!” and continued, “Tum jaiso ke karan hi global warming hota hai, kuch bhi ghaas-phus khate ho.” (You’re the reason for global warming, eating just anything!)

I laughed at her teasing, enjoying the lighthearted moment.

As we entered her office, she gestured for me to take a seat on the sofa while she retrieved her iPad.

We began discussing the project, but our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called out.

The person who entered was carrying a tray of food and a tiffin. They placed the items on the table and quickly exited.

“Grab your lunch,” she said, nodding towards the tray.

She opened her tiffin, revealing a delicious-looking chappati and shahi paneer.

“Cheen tapak dum dum” she said.

“What was that? Like seriously konsa atma prakrat kr rhe ho? (Which spirit are you trying to summon?)” I asked.

“Mujhe zaroorat bhi nahi h bhoot atma prakrat krne ke liye, already mere side pe unki sardar baithe hue hain (I don’t even need to summon spirits; their leader is already sitting beside me),” she said.

Taking a bite of her food.

I couldn’t help but stare at the aromatic dish.

“Wanna share with me?” she asked, her tone hinting that she was reluctant to share her food.

“No! I don’t eat oily, greasy food. Look at the butter on top, it’s flowing,” I said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

She playfully scolded me, “Oii, mere khane ki burai maat kr, yahi muh tord dungi teri. Maine itni mehnat se banyi h subah subah!” (Don’t criticize my food, I’ll slap you! I worked hard to make it this morning!)

I chuckled and said, “Okay, eat.”

As we continued eating and discussing the project, she held a bite of food in her hand, her eyes fixed on her iPad.

I leaned in, my lips inches from her hand, and took the bite from her fingers.

my lips touched her hand, and I could feel the spark of electricity between us.

She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise, as I pulled back, trying to play it cool. The air was thick with tension, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next.

“Kya batameezi h?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement. “Khana tha toh khud le lete mere hath se khane ka kya mtlb tha?” (What kind of mischief is this? If you wanted to eat, you could’ve taken it from my hand, what’s the point of eating like this?)

Ignoring her question, I shamelessly opened my mouth, asking for another bite.

“What?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Give me another bite, don’t want to dirty my hands,” I complained, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

I thought the shahi paneer might come flying at my face, but luckily, that didn’t happen. She fed me again, and we continued discussing the project, forgetting about the awkwardness.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I ordered, as she was still munching on her food.

Zayn entered, saying, “Boss, we have to go now, you have another meeting.”

I looked at her, and she was holding the last bite, her eyes fixed on Zayn. I leaned in and took the last bite, making Zayn’s eyes almost pop out in shock.

“Okay, Miss Khan, I’m leaving. Let’s finish this today, here,” I said, standing up to leave.

But she stopped me, saying, “Wait, finish here, ghass fuss. First. You can’t just waste them.” (Wait, finish eating here, first. You can’t just waste them.)

I was taken aback, “No, I’m full,” I replied.

But she wouldn’t let up. She grabbed the bowl and fork, came forward, and scooped the fork into my mouth.

“What the...” I swore, shocked by her bold move.

She made me sit back down on the sofa, saying, “Chup chap kha, warna tujhe bhais bakri bana ke teri qurbani kr deni h meine” (Eat quietly, or I’ll make you a sacrificial goat).

Zayn was trying hard to hold back his laughter.

“Zayn, wait a few minutes,” she said.

“Sure, bhab... Miss Khan,” Zayn replied, still chuckling.

“Feed me then,” I acted shamelessly again.

She obliged, but the bites she was feeding me were like I was a real animal.

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