Harshad Oberoi!

The moment I stepped out of my car, my phone buzzed in my pocket. An unknown number flashed across the screen. I frowned but answered it anyway, pressing the phone to my ear as I walked toward the office building.

"Harshad Oberoi," I said curtly.

There was silence for a second—then a dramatic, dreamy sigh echoed through the line.

“Who is this?” I stopped in my tracks, my frown deepening. 

“Hayee, my shona,” a female voice crooned flirtatiously.

What the hell?

“What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath, bewildered. Probably a prank. My grip tightened on the phone. “Wrong number, Miss.”

“Shona’s angry! So cute!” The voice practically sang, ignoring my sharp tone.

“Listen, whoever you are—” I pinched the bridge of my nose, irritation spiking.

“It’s me, Harsha,” she cut in sweetly, as if that explained everything. “Your Aaru. Aradhana.”

I froze, my breath hitching for a split second before anger surged to the surface. Her. Of course, it had to be her.

My steps resumed, brisk and purposeful. 

“How the hell did you get my number?” I demanded coldly.

“My future sister-in-law gave it to me. Isn’t she sweet?” She replied cheerfully, as if this was some inside joke.

Her audacity. My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together as I tried to suppress the red-hot rage bubbling inside me.

“Sister-in-law?” I repeated icily. “She is dead to me. Just like you will be if you ever call me again.”

“Harsha, don’t—”

I didn’t let her finish. I disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket, my hand trembling with restrained fury.

How dare she?

This girl—this Aradhana—was a menace, a probable social climber who didn’t know when to stop. First the party, now this? The nerve. I strode into the building, my chest tight, her annoying voice still echoing in my head.

****

Now, a week later, I am standing in front of my office, fuming as I just disconnected another phone call from that stupid girl. This has been like a routine for the past week. She makes the call, on dot, the exact time I reach the office and she manages to ruin my mood for the rest of the day.

I stormed into my office and slammed the door shut, the glass panels rattling from the impact. My jaw was tight, hands clenched into fists as I yanked my phone out and scrolled through my contacts.

Preeti.

My sister had some explaining to do.

I hit the call button, pacing the room as the phone rang. On the third ring, her cheery voice came through the line.

“Bhai! To what do I owe this honor so early in the day?”

“Preeti,” I growled, cutting straight to the point, “why the hell did you give that girl my number?”

There was a pause. Then she snorted out a laugh. 

“Oh, you mean Aradhana? She called you? That’s great! She was asking about you at the ball—”

“Why did you give her my number?” I snapped, interrupting her gushing tone. “Do you have any idea what you have done? That girl is insufferable! She has been blowing up my phone all week!”

“She just wanted to talk to you, Harsh bhai,” Preeti replied, completely unfazed. “What’s the big deal? Aaru is a sweetheart.”

“A sweetheart?” I scoffed, incredulous. “She is a spoiled, attention-seeking social climber. She has been harassing me nonstop, and you are here playing matchmaker?”

Preeti sighed dramatically. 

“You are exaggerating, as always. She’s nothing like that. Aradhana is actually very sweet. She is bubbly, friendly, and—”

“And a complete menace,” I cut in sharply. “Don’t be fooled by her act, Preeti. Girls like her know exactly how to play people like you. She probably only wants my number to either advance her career or her social media presence. And the worst, maybe to become Mrs Oberoi..”

“Or maybe she is just interested in you? The real you,” Preeti teased, her voice laced with amusement.

“Interested? Don’t even say that.” I froze mid-step, heat crawling up my neck.

“What? It’s not impossible, Bhai. You are successful, hardworking and—let’s be honest—handsome. Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Preeti, stop it. I am serious. Next time, don’t hand out my number like candy. Especially not to girls like her.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to maintain what little patience I had left. 

“Girls like her?” Preeti repeated, an edge of irritation creeping into her otherwise playful tone. “You are judging her without even knowing her. Aradhana’s a lovely girl. She’s kind, beautiful—oh, and didn’t you see her at the party? She looked absolutely stunning. That gown suited her so well—”

“Enough!” I barked, cutting her off. But Preeti wasn’t done. 

“Her hair was so pretty, too. And her smile? Bhai, if you would just stop being so grumpy and actually talk to her—”

“Preeti!” I shouted, my patience officially snapping. “I don’t care how she looked or what you think of her smile. Just stop singing her praises!”

“She is better than half the girls you meet at those boring business dinners,” Preeti continued breezily, clearly enjoying herself now. “You could at least—”

I hung up mid-sentence, seething as I tossed my phone onto my desk.

Unbelievable.

My sister was impossible. And that girl—Aradhana—was turning my life into a circus.

I collapsed into my chair, running a hand through my hair.

That girl was messing with my life, and I can’t even figure out how she’s doing it. She’s like a storm I never saw coming—unpredictable, relentless, and impossible to ignore.

Every instinct in me screams to block her number, to shut her out completely. But for some inexplicable reason, I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s as if my mind tells me one thing, but my heart… my heart hesitates. And I hate that.

The silence in my office was shattered by the sound of my cabin door bursting open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. I shot to my feet, startled, just as my useless PA, Raj, stumbled in after the intruder, completely flustered.

“Sir, I am so sorry! I tried to stop her—”

Before he could finish his pathetic excuse, she strolled in like she owned the damn place. 

Aradhana. 

The walking disaster who had been tormenting me for days.

“Good morning, Shona!” 

A/N

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