Dhruv Roy, a 30-year-old CEO and professor, lived a perfectly structured life. Aradhya Sharma, his 21-year-old student, was the complete opposite-spirited, carefree, and rebellious. She hated him, and their clashes in class were constant.
But her wo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I'm all ready," her voice echoed softly in the quiet living room.
I looked up, and there she was—Aradhya, standing in the doorway, smiling warmly at my mother. Her beauty caught everyone’s attention.
"Beautiful," my mother said, her voice filled with admiration.
I took a moment to take her in from head to toe. She was wearing a stunning long blue frock with a matching dupatta embroidered with intricate golden details. A pair of delicate blue heels completed the look.
"Stop staring and say something nice to her!" my mother nudged, breaking my trance.
I jumped up from the sofa, muttering, "Let's go."
"Too dry to give her a compliment," my mother taunted.
"Your compliments are enough, ma," Aradhya replied with a laugh.
But I checked my watch, impatient. "It’s almost 7! I asked you to be ready by 5," I reminded her.
"Shut up and let’s go," she said, pulling me out of the house before I could protest any further.
"How improper!" I teased as we walked to the car.
"Look who’s talking," she shot back, rolling her eyes.
"We’re not taking this car," I said, pointing to another vehicle.
"But I don’t like that one," she pouted.
"You don’t have to like it; just get in," I replied, making my way toward my black Mercedes.
Reluctantly, she followed. "So we’re really going by this one?" she asked as I opened the driver's side door while a guard opened hers.
I nodded, fastening my seatbelt as she did the same, albeit begrudgingly.
"At least play some good music," she said with a sigh, visibly annoyed.
I connected my phone to the car's audio and played "17" by Pink Sweats. She took out her own phone, scrolling through it as usual, lost in her own world—until her sudden shout broke the calm.
"Oh my!"
I slammed on the brakes, startled. "Are you okay?" I asked, eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress.
She raised an eyebrow, bemused. "Yes, why?"
"You shouted," I replied, feeling my own heart racing.
"Oh, that was just because Andrew Garfield looks handsome in this picture," she said, showing me her phone.
I shook my head in disbelief. "You shouted for him?"
She nodded, just as a loud honk shattered our moment. "If you don’t know how to drive, don’t bring your car on the road!" someone yelled from a nearby car.
