Aparna Sawant, a woman who prioritizes her independence and fulfilling career, has never subscribed to the idea of happily ever after. Marriage, for her, is a practical decision.
Varad Oberoi, a successful businessman hardened by past experiences...
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A P A R N A
The shrill ring of the alarm clock was like a banshee in my ear, ripping me from a sweet dream of cruising down a highway in a shiny new Oberoi sports car. I bolted upright, heart hammering against my ribs. Interview day. At Oberoi freaking Automobiles.
Yes, the same Oberoi whose last name adorned my future wedding ring. Talk about awkward. But hey, silver linings, right? Landing this job meant financial freedom, a killer new ride (in my dreams, at least), and a chance to prove myself in the cutthroat world of automobiles. Jealous coworkers? Bring it on. I was Aparna Sharma, and I could handle anything they threw my way.
Pushing aside the anxieties, I focused on getting ready. The power suit I'd meticulously picked out the night before felt too... corporate. Today called for something with a touch of personality. A burst of sunshine yellow, that's what! My favorite kurti, splashed with white prints, paired with matching cigarette pants, seemed perfect. Confidence radiated from every fold of the fabric, or at least that's what I told myself in the mirror.
"Food, woman, food!" boomed Antara's voice from the kitchen, shattering the zen state I'd almost achieved. She appeared in the doorway, a plate piled high with golden theplas.
"Lifesaver!" I exclaimed, grabbing two and shoving them into my bag. Interview nerves gnawed at my stomach, but a good thepla could conquer anything. With a hurried goodbye, I sprinted for the elevator, the delicious snack already halfway to my mouth.
"Don't you dare choke on that thepla, Apu!" Antara's voice echoed down the hallway. "And good luck!"
The air conditioning was arctic in the waiting room, but that wasn't what sent shivers down my spine. Stepping into that room had been like walking into a lion's den – all those expectant faces, sizing me up, judging.
My interview had flown by in a blur. The questions weren't unexpected, and my experience spoke for itself. But now, surrounded by the other applicants, a creeping insecurity gnawed at my confidence.
Whispers, laced with malice, snaked their way past carefully painted smiles. "Why bother? It's obviously hers for the taking." Or, "Gold digger alert! Just here to keep up appearances after that whole engagement fiasco." The rumor mill was in overdrive.
Across the room, two figures sat huddled over their phones, a stark contrast to the gossiping gaggle. Maybe they, like me, were just trying to drown out the negativity with a digital escape.
A woman approached, returning my interview documents. "Decisions will be mailed out in a day or two," she informed me politely. Filing the folder away, I rose to leave, a dull ache settling in my stomach.
Suddenly, a frantic voice called out my name. I whirled around to find Varad's PA barreling towards me, a precarious stack of files threatening to topple from her arms.
