Akshita stepped through the sliding glass doors of Chennai airport, taking in the warm, humid evening breeze that immediately made a few stray curls cling to her forehead. Her right hand strained against the weight of a blue, dangerously overstuffed suitcase that rattled with every step, while her left arm held tightly onto a multicolor tote bag with mirrors and colorful tassels.

She paused near the railing, tapping the worn surface of the bag like an old friend.

“Nayi city, naye log, aur ek nayi shuruat,” she whispered under her breath, a wide, hopeful grin spreading across her face. “Chal Shampi, dikha dete hain sabko.”

She turned briskly toward the taxi lane, entirely unprepared for the sheer velocity of an oversized metallic luggage trolley hurtling directly toward her flank.

CRASH.

The impact was deafening. The sharp metallic edge slammed into her yellow suitcase, sending it spinning wildly. The violent jolt threw Akshita completely off balance. Her feet tangled, her hands flew out, and as the slick marble floor rushed up to meet her face, she squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the blow.

The impact never came.

A pair of rock-solid arms caught her mid-air with effortless, clinical precision. Akshita found herself yanked against a broad, unyielding chest clad in a bespoke charcoal-black shirt. The sharp, intoxicating fragrance of smoked cedarwood and oud instantly filled her senses.

For a heartbeat, the frantic bustle of the airport fell dead silent. Her hands instinctively clutched his lapels, her wide eyes meeting a razor-sharp jawline and a face sculpted with severe, aristocratic elegance.

Then her brain caught up with reality.

“Arre dekh ke nahi chal sakte kya?!” she snapped, her voice piercing the stunned silence.

The man’s brows twitched with sheer, frosty disdain. Without a single word or a second's hesitation, he simply unclasped his fingers.

“Owwwww!”

Akshita hit the marble floor hard, letting out an undignified shriek.

She scrambled to her feet, dusting off her jeans while her temper shot through the roof. She looked up, and kept looking up. The man towered over her, adjusting his cuffs with leisurely, infuriating calm. His face was an emotionless mask, his light brown eyes flecked with cold, stony grey as he looked down at her as if she were dirt on his Italian leather shoes.

Akshita threw her hands into the air, pacing furiously in front of him.

“Yeh kya badtameezi hai?! Ek toh andhon ki tarah gaadi thokte ho, upar se chhoone ke bahaane pakad ke phir zameen pe patak diya? Sharam naam ki cheez hai ya nahi? Nahin nahin, tum jaise ladkon ki toh fitrat hi yahi hoti hai! Ladki dekhi nahi ki hero banne nikal padte hain takkar maarne ke liye! Socha hoga dhakka maarunga, hawa chalegi, background music bajega aur ladki flat? Par oye, hello mister! Main koi Bollywood heroine nahi hoon jo tumhare is cheap stunt pe fida ho jaungi! Aisi khatiya khadi karenge na tumhari, yahin terminal pe behosh hoke giroge!”

The man stood completely still throughout her entire tirade, not a single muscle shifting on his face, before his left brow slowly arched.

“…Excuse me?” His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone, smooth as silk and cold as ice.

“EXCUSE ME meri jooti!” Akshita fired back, closing the distance between them. Suddenly, her eyes darted to the floor, and she let out a dramatic, horrified gasp. “Meri Shampi!”

She dove down, scooping up her tote bag with trembling hands and cradling it against her chest like an injured infant. The top strap had completely snapped at the seam, dangling uselessly.

The man’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly thinning. “What? …Shampi?”

“Haan! Meri Shampi!” Akshita glared at him, pointing to the torn stitch. “Chaar saal se mera har dukh-dard jhela hai isne! Sarojini se do sau pachaas rupaye mein khareeda tha, aur tum jaise road-roller se takraate hi iski haddiyan toot gayi!”

Rising back up on her toes, she jabbed an accusatory index finger right in front of his nose.

“Ameer baap ki bigdi hui aulad ho na? Aukaat bas mehenge kapde pehenne ki hai, basic tameez nahi aati!”

Before she could blink, his hand moved with lightning speed. His fingers snapped around her wrist, locking with iron firmness. The sheer cold authority in his touch made her breath hitch. He didn’t shout; he merely leaned down an inch, his voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-thin register.

“Don’t you dare point your finger at me.”

Akshita froze, her pulse thumping wildly against his grip, startled by the sheer intensity radiating from his dark gaze.

With effortless dismissiveness, he pushed her hand down, wiping his palm against his trousers as if she had left a smudge.

“I don’t waste my breath looking at low-class nuisances like you, let alone orchestrating an accident,” he said coldly, his voice dripping with pure condescension. “Now move out of my way.”

“Oh hello!” Akshita found her voice again, stepping right back into his path, chest heaving with indignation. “Move kya haan, move? Pehle maafi maango humse!”

A faint, chilling smirk touched the corner of his lips. “Sorry? Me? And to you?” He took a deliberate step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. “Get lost.”

He gripped his trolley handle and strode past her with lethal indifference. The metal wheel clipped her right ankle with a sharp scrape.

“Are O badtameez!” Akshita hopped on one foot, clutching her bruised ankle as she watched him disappear effortlessly into the sea of waiting chauffeured sedans. “Pata nahi kahan-kahan se chale aate hain sadu namoone! Itna ghamandi insaan poori duniya mein nahi dekha maine! Khambha kahin ka. Huh!”

An hour later, the wooden door of a breezy apartment in Adyar flew open.

Before Akshita could drop her broken bag, Disha lunged forward, wrapping her in a suffocating, squealing hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs.

“Aaa gayi meri jaan!” Disha pulled back, beaming from ear to ear, her hands gripping Akshita’s shoulders. “Finally! Chennai finally feels like home now that you're here. Chal jaldi bata, flight kaisi thi? Chennai kaisa laga?”

Akshita groaned, dramatically kicking off her sneakers into the hallway and dragging her feet toward the living room sofa, collapsing onto the cushions like a deflated balloon.

“Chennai ka toh pata nahi, par airport ke bahar hi ek zinda, chalte-phirte pathar ke khambhe se pala pad gaya mera!”

Disha, who had just walked toward the kitchen counter, paused with a water jug in hand, her eyes wide with amusement. “Hain? Khambha? Aur pala pad gaya? Hua kya bhai?”

“Are insaan kam, arogant statue zyada tha!” Akshita sat up, her hands waving dramatically in the air as she reenacted the collision. “Black shirt, do kilo mehenga perfume, aur sar pe aisa ghamand jaise poora Chennai airport uske baap ne khareed rakha ho! Aate hi meri Shampi ki strap tod di, aur attitude toh dekho, maafi maangne ke bajaye humko hi lecture de raha tha!”

Over steaming bowls of dal and rice, Akshita theatrically played out every single dialogue, mimicking his deep voice and cold glare with furious precision. Disha was bent double over the dining table, tears of laughter spilling from her eyes, clutching her stomach.

“Oh god, Akshi, tu bilkul nahi badli!” Disha wiped a tear away, still giggling. She rested her chin in her hands, her eyes twinkling with pure mischief. “Acha, itna sab bol diya… yeh toh bata, dikhta kaisa tha woh khambha?”

Akshita paused with her spoon mid-air, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Kya yaar Disha tu bhi! Teri yeh aashiqui wali keede kabhi shaant nahi honge na?”

“Arre bol na! Itna lamba choda description diya, chehra bhi toh notice kiya hoga?” Disha nudged her arm playfully.

“Bas theek-thaak tha,” Akshita muttered, suddenly looking down at her plate, a faint, unbidden flush rising on her cheeks. “Bohot tall tha, sharp jawline, tanned skin… aur ajeeb si light brown eyes thi uski. Aisi aankhein jo gusse mein bilkul steel-grey ban jaati hain.”

Disha gasped loudly, dropping her jaw and pointing an accusing fork at her. “OHHO! Brown eyes jo grey ban jaati hain?! Beta ji, tune toh poora zoom karke study kar liya hai! Takkar trolley se hui thi ya seedha dil se?”

“Dhatt! Bakwaas band kar apni!” Akshita’s cheeks burned hotter as she shoved a large bite of food into her mouth. “Uski aankhon mein aankhein daal ke uski band baja rahi thi main, isliye notice ho gaya! Filmy dimaag mat chala apna.”

“Chalo maan liya,” Disha smiled warmly, picking up the empty plates and heading toward the sink. “Kal subah IIITM ka pehla din hai tera. Excitement hai ya darr?”

Akshita leaned back against the chair, letting out a soft, thoughtful sigh as she stared at the ceiling fan spinning overhead.

“Excitement to bhut h thoda sa nervousness is baat ka hai ki koi dhang ka project mil jaaye,” she said quietly, her tone softening. “Ek acha, mature mentor mil jaaye jisse kuch seekhne ko mile… aur bas bhagwan se ek hi dua hai, uss jaise badtameez khambhe jaisa arrogant insaan ko humse dur hi rakhe.”

Disha turned off the tap with a soft laugh, neither of them having the slightest clue that across town, in the penthouse suite of a luxury high-rise, destiny had already cleared his schedule for the next morning.