The One I Denied, The One I Can't Lose

The towering Randhawa Group of Industries building stretched into the sky like an indomitable force. The sheer size of it, the weight of its legacy, pressed down on Shayari's chest as she stood at the entrance.

She had spent years watching her father leave for work, full of pride and dedication.

And now, she was about to walk through those very doors-not as his daughter, but as an employee under Ranveer Singh Randhawa.

A man who had never spared her more than a passing glance.

Her fingers curled into fists, the strap of her bag digging into her palm. For a second, she glanced at the exit. It would be so easy to turn around, to pretend this wasn't happening. But running away wasn't an option. Not anymore.

Swallowing her nerves, she stepped inside.

The grand lobby buzzed with efficiency-phones ringing, heels clicking against the polished marble, employees moving with purpose. Yet, as soon as she entered, a shift occurred.

Stolen glances. Muted whispers.

"She's Gautam Sir's daughter?"
"She's in Ranveer Sir's team? Oh boy, good luck to her."
"Poor girl, she has no idea what she's in for."

Shayari squared her shoulders. She wasn't here to impress anyone. She was here to do her job.

A woman with striking features and a sharp professional aura walked toward her, offering a polite smile.

"You must be Shayari Chatterjee. I'm Meera, Ranveer Sir's executive assistant. He's expecting you."

Expecting her? That was generous.

Meera led her through sleek corridors before stopping at a door that looked heavier than the weight pressing on her chest.

"Sir, Miss Chatterjee is here," Meera announced, pushing the door open.

Shayari stepped inside, her heart hammering.

Ranveer wasn't sitting back casually. He stood by the window, his hands tucked into his pockets, his dark gaze scanning some papers. The sunlight hit his face just right, making him look almost unreal. If only his heart was as warm as the glow around him.

He didn't look up immediately. He let the silence stretch, let the tension settle until she felt the weight of his indifference.

Then, finally, his gaze lifted.

For a second, something flickered across his face. Recognition. A trace of the past.

Then, it was gone.

"Sit." His voice was clipped. Cold. Just like she remembered.

Shayari forced herself to move, perching on the chair opposite him, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag.

Ranveer leaned back, his expression impassive.

He tossed a file onto his desk. "Since you're here as a Management Trainee, you'll be working across multiple departments. But let's be clear about one thing-you're not special. You got this job on merit, not because of Gautam Uncle. Don't expect special treatment. And don't expect me to go easy on you."

Shayari met his gaze head-on. "I never asked for favors."

A slow smirk curled his lips, one that wasn't remotely friendly.

"Good," he said, his voice low. "Then you'll survive."

His words were a challenge. One she didn't shy away from.

She rose from her chair. "I'll do my job, and I'll do it well."

Ranveer simply flicked his gaze back to his file. Dismissed.