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Aaradhana Verma

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, phone propped precariously against the sugar jar, and my fingers hovering uncertainly over a bottle of olive oil. The cheerful voice of a YouTube chef blared through the speakers, promising me that Alfredo pasta was ‘the easiest dish you could make!’

“Easy for you, Mr. Chef,” I grumbled, glaring at the video. “You don’t know the disaster you are enabling.”

Still, I was determined. Preeti had casually dropped that Harshad was a big fan of homemade Alfredo pasta. Apparently, his mom made it for him whenever he was stressed, and he absolutely loved it.

And so here I was—Aradhana Verma, kitchen rookie—on a quest to win the heart of one Harshad Oberoi, one creamy pasta at a time.

I threw some butter into the pan, wincing when it sizzled violently. 

“Alright, calm down. We are in this together,” I told the butter like a lunatic before reaching for the garlic.

Halfway through chopping, I had a brilliant idea. I should call him!

Grinning like an idiot, I wiped my hands on a towel, grabbed my phone, and hit the call button.

“Harshad Oberoi,” his curt voice came through almost instantly.

“Oho, Shona!” I chirped, my voice sugar-sweet. “Do you know what I am doing?”

“What?” He sounded suspicious, like I was about to drop some earth-shattering news.

“I am making your favorite Alfredo pasta,” I announced proudly, puffing my chest as if he could see me. “And guess what? I am bringing it to your office today!”

Silence.

Then, in the coldest, deadliest voice I’d ever heard, he said, “Don’t you f**king come anywhere near my office.”

And before I could say a word, he hung up.

I stared at my phone, stunned for exactly two seconds. Then I burst out laughing.

“What a grump!” I cackled, shaking my head as I tossed my phone onto the counter. “He is just shy, that’s all. Bet he can’t wait to see me.”

My confidence renewed, I dove back into my pasta-making adventure.

The problem was… nothing went according to plan.

The cream curdled when I added it to the pan. The garlic burned when I turned my back for literally a second. And the pasta? I forgot to salt the water, so it tasted like cardboard.

I stared at the gloopy mess in the pan, poking at it with a wooden spoon. 

“Is it supposed to look like this?” I muttered, horrified.

One bite confirmed the answer.

“Blegh!” I spat it back out, grabbing the nearest bottle of water. “What in the name of Alfredo is this abomination?”

Defeated, I dragged myself out of the kitchen and straight to the living room where Mumma was sitting with her laptop.

“Mumma…” I said sweetly, plopping onto the couch beside her.

“What do you want, Aaru?” She didn’t look up. 

“I need you to make something for me,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically.

“What did you do now?” Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. 

“Nothing!” I said quickly, holding up my hands. “I just need you to make some Alfredo pasta. Please.”

“Why?” She stared at me, suspicious. 

“Because I am craving it!” I lied, pasting on my best innocent smile.

“Craving it? Since when do you like Alfredo pasta?” Momma asked. Well, I am not a big fan of pasta.

“Mumma!” I whined, grabbing her arm and shaking it like a child. “Please! It’s just pasta. How hard can it be?”

“You are impossible, Aaru. Fine, I’ll make it. But you better clean up whatever mess you’ve made in the kitchen.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Done, done, and done!” I beamed, throwing my arms around her.

An hour later, Mumma handed me a tiffin box filled with perfectly made Alfredo pasta, the smell heavenly. I kissed her cheek, earning an exasperated glare. 

“You are hiding something, Aradhana,” she said, wagging a finger at me.

“Nothing, Mumma!” I chirped, clutching the tiffin like it was treasure. “You are the best! I love you!”

I dashed upstairs to get ready, throwing on my cutest yellow dress and pulling my hair into a neat ponytail. With the tiffin safely packed into my bag, I grabbed my keys and twirled in front of the mirror.

“Harshad Oberoi, get ready to fall in love,” I grinned at my reflection before skipping out the door.

As I drove to Oberoi Corps, the thought of his grumpy face lit up by a smile—because of my pasta—had me giggling to myself the whole way.

What could possibly go wrong?

*****

The elevator doors dinged open, and I practically skipped out onto the executive floor of Oberoi Corps, the smell of creamy Alfredo pasta wafting faintly from the tiffin in my bag.

A tall man in a sharp suit—Harshad’s PA, Raj—immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path like a human barricade.

“Miss Aradhana,” he said in a clipped tone, his eyes narrowed. “You can’t go in there without an appointment.”

“Oh, come on, Raj! Do I look like I need an appointment?” I smiled sweetly. 

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You do.”

“Relax. I am here on urgent business.” I waved him off like an annoying fly. 

“Miss, you cannot—”

Too late. I grabbed the handle of Harshad’s cabin door, pushed it open, and swept inside like I owned the place.

“Shonaaa!” I sang, shutting the door behind me with a triumphant grin.

Harshad, who was seated behind his massive desk, looked up sharply. His dark eyes flashed with instant irritation as he tossed his pen onto the papers before him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I strolled right up to his desk, ignoring the laser beams he was shooting at me. 

“I told you I would bring you lunch,” I said cheerfully, pulling out the cute tiffin box from my bag and placing it in front of him. “Ta-da! Homemade Alfredo pasta—your favorite!”

For a second, I thought I saw something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe—but it vanished so quickly that I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“I told you not to come here,” he said coldly, his voice like ice.

I waved off his grumpiness, plopping into the chair across from him. 

“And I ignored you. Obviously.” I propped my chin on my hand, giving him my best flirtatious smile. “I thought I would brighten your boring day with some good food and my amazing company.”

“Get out.”

“Not until you try it,” I said firmly, pushing the tiffin an inch closer to him.

Harshad’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists on the desk. Then, suddenly, he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he glared down at me.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” He snapped, his voice rising. “You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?”

“Whoa, who added salt in your coffee this morning?” I blinked up at him, startled by the venom in his tone. 

“Don’t play dumb, Aradhana.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes burning with anger. “You are nothing but a social-climbing bitch who used her connection with the Verma family to claw her way into a position at Verma Corps.”

His words hit me like a slap, my heart stopping for a beat. I stared at him, mouth open, as the meaning of what he’d said sank in.

“What did you just call me?” I asked, my voice soft, but sharp.

“You heard me,” he sneered. “You latched onto the Vermas, pretended to be their little darling, and look where it got you—an easy position you didn’t work for, all because of who you know.”

“How dare you?” I shot to my feet, anger bubbling up inside me like boiling water. 

“It’s the truth,” he said, his tone cutting. “You’re just another spoiled, attention-seeking girl who thinks she can get whatever she wants without lifting a finger.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” I shouted, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “I didn’t use anyone to get where I am, Harshad. And I don’t need your approval to prove myself.”

“Prove yourself? Don’t make me laugh, Aradhana. You wouldn’t last a day on your own without someone holding your hand.” He snorted, crossing his arms. 

“That’s where you are wrong,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration. “I can be independent. I will be independent. And I don’t need anyone—not the Vermas, and certainly not you—to give me a position or tell me what I can and can’t do.”

He stared at me, his face stony, but I didn’t back down.

“I will show you what I am capable of, Mr Oberoi. And mark my words, you are going to fall madly in love with me..” With that said, I turned on my heels and walked out of the place.

A/N

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