Recap : Ryan fired Naveen.

"Um… Sir?" I started, nervously licking my chapped lips as the printer beeped nonstop, spitting out papers at a rapid pace.

"Could you reconsider your decision… you know, I mean.. firing him—" I chuckled awkwardly, attempting a smile and hoping—no, praying—he’d listen. But when I glanced over, my hopeful grin froze faster than my confidence.

Ryan just sat there, silent, his eyebrows drawn together in a tight frown as he scanned each page in the file thoroughly scanning for even a tiny spell error. That Vile Creature!

I was so, so close to turning into vapour and just... swishing away.

"He stole the file," he said after letting out a huge sigh. His laser-like eyes were still focused on the file as if he might bore holes through it with sheer irritation.

"Um—well, I mean… it could be a misunderstanding," I mumbled, trying my best not to sound like I was taking sides.

Suddenly, Ryan’s hand froze mid-page. He shut the file with an ominous snap, and before I could blink, he swivelled his chair to face me, fixing me with a look so piercing I could practically feel my self-confidence draining like water from a leaky bucket.

Um- Sir was that necessary?

"This," he said, lifting the file and giving it a slight shake, "isn’t just a file, Aisha. You know that very well." He paused, his gaze still burning into me. "But if you want to defend him, go ahead. It’s your choice."

He was calm, too calm, which—let’s face it—was terrifying.

"I… I wasn’t defending him," I stammered out.

"It’s just… it felt harsh." My voice was barely above a whisper.
Maybe if I said it quietly enough, it wouldn’t count?

"I know,"
He kept his gaze fixed on me, as he said it, completely unblinking, as if he could see through every nervous thought I was having.

"Then… can’t you change it?" I asked, aiming for a normal tone. But instead, my words came out in a whine, high-pitched and horrifically informal.

Oh Crap! Did I just whine?

I immediately shut my mouth, realising my mistake(s).

He wasn’t my friend—it wasn’t my home—and I just used an informal tone.

I cleared my throat, my cheeks flushed as I averted my gaze, desperately trying to pretend that, that didn't happened,

He didn't notice, did he?

Focusing back to gathering the stack of papers from the printer with probably a bit too much focus, stapling them with the precision of someone trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. Then, I placed the neat stack on the table as if that would erase my slip-up.

"Unless…" I trailed off, hesitating, because let’s face it, my track record today isn’t exactly stellar.
"Unless, there's something else going on?"

I regretted it the instant it left my mouth.

Ryan had long gone— I mean zoned out—his eyes flickered with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
He opened his mouth, then stopped, frozen like a statue, his mouth slightly ajar. And went silent.
Completely, utterly silent. His face went blank, like someone had hit the "mute" button.

Is he… alright?

"Say something, Ryan." My voice wavered, but he didn’t respond.

Woah. I think...I broke him?

I leaned forward, waving my hand in front of his face.
Nothing. He was frozen, like a character in a video game that had just glitched.

Come on, don’t glitch out on me!

I tried snapping my fingers, waving both hands, even leaning in to whisper, "Sir?"

Still nothing.

Alright, desperate times call for desperate measures.

After much hesitation, I gave his shoulder a gentle shake. He jolted, blinking rapidly, like he’d just woken up from a daydream.

"Oh—uh, right," he muttered, rubbing his eyes and looking around as though he’d forgotten where he was.

Before I could question his mini-timeout, the meeting room door creaked open, and in walked Mr. Yadav.

He looked to be in his mid-forties, half bald, with a long head and a thick, well — bushy moustache that instantly reminded me of old kings from history books.

Seriously, that moustache could have its own kingdom.

I shot up, stealing a quick glance at Ryan to see if he’d fully recovered from whatever that was.

Ryan stood up quickly, adjusting his suit and slipping right back into his usual composed demeanour as if nothing strange had just happened. I straightened my kurti, and smiled trying to look as professional as possible, though my heart was still racing.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Yadav greeted us, his voice warm but businesslike as he took a seat across from us. He looked from Ryan to me with a slight nod. "Hope I’m not late?"

"No, perfect timing," Ryan replied smoothly, his earlier freeze-up now completely erased from his expression.

Clearing his throat, Ryan handed Mr. Yadav a copy of the project summary. "Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Yadav. We’re eager to discuss the project and align on your expectations moving forward."

"Absolutely," Mr. Yadav replied, flipping through the pages. His attention was fully on the documents, nodding thoughtfully as he read.
"I've reviewed some of the initial proposals, and I appreciate the thoroughness here."

Ryan agreed, "We’ve outlined a few ideas that we believe align with your vision. If you have any feedback or specific adjustments in mind, we’re all ears."

Mr. Yadav looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his face. "Actually, I do have a few thoughts. I think the project scope could be expanded in some areas. For instance, on page four…"

As he began detailing his suggestions, I took the opportunity to jot down notes, doing my best to stay focused on the client’s words rather than… his, um, head.

I mean, between the gleaming bald spot and that magnificent moustache, it was almost impossible to keep a straight face.

No, don’t stare at the moustache.
Look at the papers.
Look anywhere but at his head!

I quickly scribbled his points, nodding along as if I hadn’t just had a full-blown mental conversation about moustaches.

As Mr. Yadav continued flipping through the project summary, Ryan glanced at me, giving a slight nod, signalling it was my turn to take over. I took a steadying breath, gave my notes a final glance, and launched in.

"Mr. Yadav, let me take over— at Nexus Media House, we believe that creating a strong narrative is key to a memorable campaign," I began, leaning forward to match his focused expression.
"With the Buxton project, our approach was to focus on the behind-the-scenes elements—the real, raw parts that connect audiences on a personal level. People today are more curious than ever about what happens behind the polished ad. It’s authentic, relatable, and—"

Mr. Yadav held up a hand, interrupting. Uh-Oh. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my palms were sweaty, but I still kept my smile.

"I see where you’re coming from, Aisha," he said, smirking slightly as he leaned back. "But do you really believe that approach is effective for a company like ours?"

He briefly glanced at Ryan— who was too focused to spare a glance — then at me.
"Buxton is known for professionalism and prestige, not for what happens behind closed doors."

I paused at his arrogant remark, biting my inner cheeks, giving him an understanding nod. 

Alright, it's showtime!

"I completely understand your concern," I said, adjusting my tone to sound both confident and receptive. "The Buxton brand absolutely conveys prestige, and that’s one of its strengths. However, people today trust brands that don’t just showcase a perfect image but also reveal the story and effort that goes into that image."

Mr. Yadav raised an eyebrow, still not fully convinced. Sensing it, I pressed on.

"For example," I continued, "we’d feature your team’s expertise—showing their dedication and attention to detail. Think of it as a way to showcase Buxton’s high standards without the usual polish. Audiences would see the excellence in action rather than just the end product. It’s subtle but effective."

He sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the folder as he considered my words.

Adjusting my kurti, I glanced over at Ryan, who gave me an encouraging nod, which fueled my confidence to keep going.

"Plus," I added, leaning forward slightly, "behind-the-scenes content can actually enhance the sense of exclusivity. It’s as if you’re inviting viewers into an experience they wouldn’t usually have access to. They’d see Buxton as not just a brand but as a vision and a craft, something they’d want to be part of."

Mr. Yadav nodded slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

"I hadn’t thought about it that way," he admitted, tapping his fingers on the folder.
"You’re suggesting that it’s a way to elevate the brand while keeping it relatable?"

"Exactly," I said, feeling a rush of relief. "By focusing on the behind-the-scenes aspects, we’re not diminishing Buxton’s prestige—we’re actually reinforcing it by showing the extraordinary work that goes into every product, and we think it would resonate perfectly with Buxton’s audience."

Ryan chimed in, "Aisha’s approach has been tested successfully with other brands. I believe it’s a compelling direction, and we’re confident in the results."

Mr. Yadav looked from Ryan to me, a slight smile on his face.

"Alright, you’ve convinced me," he said, closing the folder.
"Let’s give this a shot."

Yes! Mission accomplished.

.
.
.

As I stacked the last of the papers, I noticed Ryan and Mr. Yadav exchanging some final thoughts, their laughter filling the room with a rare warmth. I sighed out in relief; it looked like everything had gone smoothly.

"Aisha." Ryan's voice cut through, pulling my focus back.
"Contract, please."

I gave a quick nod, gathering the carefully organised documents and placing them in front of him. Mr. Yadav leaned over, pen in hand, and with a flourish, signed his name.

"Pleasure to have you. We won’t disappoint," Ryan said with unmistakable pride.

"Ha! I know." Mr. Yadav chuckled, giving Ryan a firm handshake before turning his gaze toward me. There was a spark of approval in his eyes as he looked from me to Ryan.

"She's good," he remarked, pointing in my direction.

"I know." Ryan's response was instant, without any hesitation.

I glanced at him, expecting a smirk or even a teasing smile. But Ryan stood proudly, meeting Mr. Yadav's gaze with calm confidence, as if this was simply a fact that everyone should know.

Wait—did my heart just… flutter?
No, no, no. Stop it!

____

"You were pretty good." Ryan smiled as I handed him his laptop while he slipped on his blazer.

"Thanks!" I replied curtly, keeping it short. No more long conversations—that could complicate anything.

"Hold on. Stand there." Ryan held up his phone, and before I could even blink, I heard the camera click.

Did he just— take my picture?"

My eyes widened in disbelief.

"What… just happened?" I asked, utterly bewildered.

He ignored me, casually scrolling through his phone as if he didn't just click my photo. Duh!

"Okay! Let's go." He looked up finally, tucking his phone away.

"Go where?"
I frowned, trying to get my bearings.

He raised a brow, as if I’d just missed something obvious.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Oh, well—is that even a question? Was I hungry? Starving, actually. I could practically see an imaginary buffet of every comfort food lined up in my head.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Then let's move." He started walking, tossing a casual,
"We have somewhere else to be."

"Where—ugh, are you even planning to tell me?" I trotted after him, squinting suspiciously at the back of his head.

What exactly was he up to?

He stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Did you forget? You’re meeting my parents tomorrow."

My breath hitched, and I swear the ground shifted beneath my feet.
Oh, no! I completely forgot. Images of a very stern mother popped into my head, complete with critical looks and judgmental glances. Oh God!

"And stop whining. It’s… distracting,"
He said turning forward as he walked away, leaving me dumb struck.

Huh?

********

Surprised?

Don't forget to vote!
Do leave your comments.