Reyansh felt the satisfying pull of resistance as he pushed up for another rep, the morning gym music echoing through the sleek, mirror-lined room. Sweat traced along his jawline, highlighting the powerful lines of his arms. Today he’d kept it simple — a black t-shirt and charcoal grey joggers, hair tousled, no-nonsense.

His mind, however, refused to stay quiet.

> Family function, he reminded himself. I’ll have to leave the team with instructions.

He grabbed a towel and wiped down, checking his smartwatch. 8:10 a.m. Sharp as ever.

> Better tell them today — warna phir sawaal uthenge.

Taking a sip from his water bottle and , mentally preparing for the office day ahead.

---

At the office, Reyansh arrived in a classic white crisp formal shirt, sleeves perfectly folded at his elbows, paired with tailored navy trousers and a sleek silver watch. Confident, powerful, effortless.

He stepped into the meeting room, eyes scanning the employees already gathered.

---

Ira, meanwhile, hurried to collect her laptop, adjusting the soft pink shirt she wore with off-white pants and wore black geels. Her hair was loosely tied in a bun, creating a subtle grace around her face.

She took a deep breath. She had to tell them she’d be unavailable — there was no avoiding it.

Ira stepped into the conference room just as Reyansh turned to address the team.

> “Okay, listen up,” he began, voice smooth and firm. “I will be out of station for a few days. Koi zaroorat ho, toh email karo — but handle things on priority.”

A few heads nodded in understanding. Ira raised her voice after him.

> “Mujhe bhi kuch din ke liye jaana hai — Neha will coordinate in my absence,” she added calmly.

Their eyes met, a faint spark of challenge again.

—

When the meeting wrapped up, everyone filed out, but Reyansh stayed leaning against the table, arms folded. His eyes never left her.

> “Kahan ja rahi ho?” he asked, tone low but polite.

“That’s personal, Mr. Khanna,” she replied, standing straighter.

“Shaadi-vivaah ya kuch aur?”

“Why should I tell you?” she shot back in Hindi, brows raised.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk appearing.

> “Theek hai, mat batao. Mujhe bhi mat puchhna phir, main bhi busy rahunga,” he replied, almost teasing.

She pressed her lips together, ignoring him as she collected her files, but there was a heat in her cheeks she couldn’t quite hide.

—

That evening, back home, Ira began carefully folding her sarees and jewellery into a deep maroon suitcase. Her mother came in, excitement bubbling in her voice.

> “Ira, ready to? Flight aachhe kaal sokale,”(Ira are you ready ? We've flight tomorrow morning), she said in Bengali, meaning the flight is tomorrow morning.

“Hmm, ready,” Ira replied, even though her mind was still stuck on Reyansh’s question.

---

Reyansh, meanwhile, stood in his bedroom, packing simple but sharp wedding wear — pastel kurta sets, a navy-blue blazer, and a bottle of his favourite fresh cologne.

He placed everything carefully into his leather bag, then checked his phone, giving last-minute instructions to the office:

> “Project files sambhal lena — I don’t want any excuse,” he texted the group.

He stared out the window, city lights already sparkling outside.

Why do I even care where she is going? he wondered.

---

The next morning, Kolkata’s chaotic charm welcomed them both, in their separate cabs, on their separate paths — yet fate had other plans.

Neither of them could have imagined how colliding their worlds were about to become.