CHAPTER:4 ( Distraction walks in)

Aarav

My office on the 15th floor overlooked half the city — glass walls, quiet lighting, and furniture too modern for anyone's comfort. Just the way I liked it. Minimal. Efficient. Unemotional.

9:55 AM — the assistant knocked, entered with the morning briefing.

"Sir, the design team is ready for the summer collection review. Conference room or here?"

"Here. And get me black coffee."

Five minutes later, the team entered — all perfectly rehearsed smiles and nervous energy.

“Good morning, sir,” the head designer began, laying out the samples on the glass table. Swatches, sketches, silhouettes.

"Pastel tones are trending this season — blush, sage, powder blue. Our idea is to keep it simple but graceful. Flowing fabrics, softer necklines, and minimal patterns. We’ve added a few Indo-Western fusion pieces too."

I didn’t react. I rarely do.

I stood up, walked to the samples, and picked up one of the boards.

"Who’s the target?"

“Mid 20s to 30s — urban, classy, someone who prefers elegance over noise.”

I nodded. “Then remove this one,” I pointed to a ruffled piece. “Too experimental. We doesn’t do trends — we set them. I want timeless.”

They all noted it quickly.

"Also, update PR. Campaign tagline: ‘Soft Power.’ And make sure we shoot in natural light — no artificial studio drama."

"Understood, sir."

They left. Clean meeting. No drama. On time.

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11:30 AM – Financial Review

Numbers don’t lie. People do. That’s why I prefer spreadsheets over small talk.

The CFO walked me through inventory, supplier delays, and upcoming shipment changes. I approved three proposals, flagged one. Done in 20 minutes.

My phone buzzed with a reminder for a 2 PM interview with an industry magazine. I wasn’t in the mood. I rarely was.

Just as I picked up my coffee mug again — the door burst open.

"Tumhara staff abhi bhi mujhe rokne ki himmat nahi kar paya," came a too-familiar voice.

Vivaan Oberoi. Businessman. Billionaire. And unfortunately, my oldest friend.

"Because unhe pata hai tum sirf bakwaas leke aate ho," I replied, not even looking up.

"Nahi yaar, aaj toh invite leke aaya hoon," he grinned, walking in like he owned the place, tossing a shiny envelope on my desk.

‘Oberoi Jewels – Annual Luxury Showcase’

Cream-gold finish. Expensive. Obnoxious. Just like him.

"You're coming," he announced, settling on the couch opposite me, stretching like he had nothing better to do.

"Why would I waste an evening watching rich aunties fake smiles over diamonds?"

"Ouch. That’s my client base you’re insulting."

"Exactly."

He leaned forward, smirking. “Come on, yaar. It's not just about jewellery. Big names, big coverage. Good for networking. And… I have a feeling you’ll find something interesting this time.”

"You know I don't do 'interesting'."

"Bro, tumhara whole life monochrome hai. Black, white, grey... kabhi kabhi thoda color leke aa. Thoda sparkle."

I looked at the card.

The event was tomorrow. 7 PM.

"Text me the details," I said finally.

Vivaan looked genuinely surprised. "No sarcastic comments? No last-minute tantrums?"

"Waise, tu seriously aayega?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I said text me the time, didn't I?"

"Kya baat hai, Aarav sengupta ko social event mein interest aa raha hai?"

"It’s business. Don’t flatter yourself."

Vivaan leaned forward dramatically.

"Nahi bro, sach bolu? I think it's time."

"Time for what? Another overpriced gift hamper from your event?"

"No yaar… time to fall in love. Tu budha ho gaya hai. Get married, have cute babies, retire early."

I gave him a flat stare. "You want me to ruin my peace for wedding hashtags and couple photos?"

"Arre ruin nahi, revive! Life mein thoda color aa jaayega. Kab tak black shirts aur boring meetings mein khush rahega?"

"Main khush hoon. Tum sab depressed log ho jo shaadi karke motivation quotes share karte ho."

Vivaan laughed hard.

"One day, someone will come and mess up your perfect little monochrome life."

"Good luck to that someone. " I said, smirking, turning the invite over in my hand.

He got up, straightened his jacket. “Chalo, then see you tomorrow. And wear something non-black, please. The public will think you’re attending a funeral.”

"If you’re performing, maybe I am."

He grinned and walked out, leaving behind that cream-gold envelope.

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As the door shut, I sat back in my chair. For the first time in days, my perfectly scheduled life had a detour.

And I didn’t hate it.

Not yet.

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