The next few weeks at **SkyLine Advertising** felt like living inside a dream.
Aanya's days were filled with brainstorming sessions, coffee-fueled deadlines, and the soft hum of creative chaos. But beneath it all was a rhythm — an unspoken pull that seemed to exist whenever **Arjun Raichand** walked into the room.
He wasn't just her boss; he was a mystery she couldn't stop thinking about.
Sometimes stern, sometimes unexpectedly kind. Always calm, yet his eyes hid a storm she could almost sense.
She had started to notice little things — how he tapped his pen when thinking, how he paused before approving an idea, and how, when he smiled, it felt like the entire room softened.
---
One late evening, most of the office was empty. Aanya was still at her desk, rewriting copy for the Aurora Perfumes campaign.
Arjun walked by, glancing at her.
"You're still here?"
She looked up, startled. "Oh— just finishing a few lines, sir. I almost have the perfect tagline."
He folded his arms, amused. "Almost perfect? You sound like me now."
She grinned. "Then I must be learning from the best."
Arjun raised an eyebrow, half-teasing. "Flattery doesn't make ideas better, Miss Mehta."
"But it might make the boss smile," she said without thinking.
There was silence for a heartbeat. Then he did smile — just slightly, the kind of smile that made her pulse race.
"Touché," he said softly, and walked toward his office.
But before he closed the door, he turned back. "Let's see that line you're working on."
---
Aanya handed him the notebook. Her handwriting curved across the page like poetry:
> *"Aurora — for the moments you wish would last forever."*
Arjun read it, then looked at her. "Simple. Honest. Emotional. I like it."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Yes. It's… you."
Her heart skipped. "Me?"
He didn't answer immediately. "It's the kind of thought someone writes when they believe in feelings more than logic. When they still see beauty in everything."
His words hung in the air — quiet, gentle, dangerous.
She didn't know what to say, so she looked down at her desk, pretending to be busy.
Arjun cleared his throat. "Good work, Miss Mehta. Go home, it's late."
"Yes, sir," she whispered. But her heart was already miles away.
---
The next day, the office buzzed with new energy — a big client meeting was scheduled. Arjun would present their new campaign, and Aanya's tagline was chosen as the highlight.
She stood nervously at the back of the room as Arjun spoke.
He was flawless — confident, articulate, every word sharp and elegant. But when he mentioned her line, he turned slightly, meeting her eyes.
> "This line," he said, "came from one of our youngest creatives. It captures exactly what Aurora stands for — emotion that lingers."
Aanya felt her throat tighten. The look he gave her was brief but warm — proud, even. For the first time, she saw something more than professionalism in his gaze.
After the presentation, the clients applauded. SkyLine had won the pitch.
Everyone celebrated in the lounge area, but Aanya stayed back, too shy to join in. She stepped out onto the balcony instead, breathing in the Mumbai night air.
That's when she heard his voice behind her.
"Running away from compliments again?"
She turned — Arjun stood there, holding two cups of coffee. He handed her one.
"Sir, I— I just needed fresh air."
He nodded. "So did I."
They stood side by side, the city glittering below them. For a while, neither spoke. The silence wasn't awkward — it was peaceful.
Finally, he said quietly, "You did well today. I don't say that often."
Aanya smiled, looking at the coffee cup. "Then I'll remember it forever."
Arjun glanced at her, and for the first time, he looked… human. Vulnerable.
"You remind me," he said slowly, "of what I loved about this job — before it became just work."
Aanya's heart pounded. "And what was that?"
He looked out at the skyline. "Hope. Imagination. The belief that stories could change lives."
Their eyes met — not as boss and employee, but as two dreamers who saw the world in color while everyone else saw it in black and white.
A soft breeze swept past them. Somewhere below, the sound of laughter echoed through the streets.
Aanya whispered, "Maybe stories can still do that… if we let them."
Arjun looked at her — really looked at her — and said quietly,
"Maybe you're right, Miss Mehta."
But in his heart, he already knew — this wasn't just about stories anymore.
Something real had begun.
---
🌙 *To be continued…*