The thing about Friday nights in Mumbai was that they had a specific kind of energy.
Not the Monday morning kind — sharp, purposeful, everyone somewhere to be.
Friday night energy was different.
Looser. Louder. The kind that made people do things they'd spend Saturday morning explaining to themselves.
And tonight —
Tonight that energy had a name.
Anika Sharma.
Their 2BHK looked like a storm had passed through it.
Specifically — a getting-ready storm. The kind that involved three outfit changes, two hair crises, one eyeliner emergency, and Kyra sitting calmly on Anika's bed watching all of it unfold with the patience of a woman who had seen this exact show approximately forty seven times.
"Yeh wala?" Anika held up a deep burgundy dress against herself, spinning toward Kyra.
"Haan."
"Ya yeh wala?" Black co-ord set. Cropped blazer. Sharp.
Kyra tilted her head. "Woh bhi achha hai."
"KYRA." Anika turned to her fully, "Main pooch rahi hoon teri raay. Actual raay.
Not — haan achha hai, haan woh bhi achha hai —"
"Dono actually achhe hain —"
"KYRA —"
"Burgundy." Kyra said firmly, "Final. Done. Pehno. Abhi."
Anika looked at the dress.
Then at Kyra.
"Burgundy." She confirmed.
"Burgundy." Kyra nodded.
Fifteen minutes later —
Anika Sharma stood in front of their bathroom mirror in the burgundy dress, wavy black hair falling loose around her shoulders, dark brown eyes bright with that particular kind of excitement that only existed on nights that felt like beginnings.
She looked at herself.
Singhaniya Tech. Monday. CEO's PA.
She grinned at her reflection.
Tonight was for celebrating.
Monday was for conquering.
Tonight — she was just Anika. Twenty four. Mumbai. Free.
"ANIKA READY HAI KYA —" Kyra appeared in the doorway, already looking stunning in her own outfit, phone in hand, "Ishaan ka message aaya hai — woh aur uska friend nikal rahe hain, thodi der mein pohonchenge —"
"Haan haan aahi hu baba" Anika grabbed her bag, checked herself one last time —
Then promptly walked into the doorframe on her way out.
"OW —"
"...Anika."
"MAIN THEEK HOON —"
"Tu kabhi theek nahi hoti —"
"CHALO —"
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The club was exactly what Friday nights in Mumbai were made for.
Dark. Loud. The kind of music that bypassed your brain entirely and went straight to your feet. Lights that turned everyone into something slightly more cinematic than real life.
Anika loved it immediately.
They found a spot, ordered drinks — mocktail for Anika, something considerably stronger for Kyra — and within approximately four minutes Anika was already on the dance floor because standing still when music this good was playing was simply not an option.
This. She thought, moving to the beat, glass in hand, hair flying. This is what winning feels like.
Kyra appeared beside her, matching her energy, and they fell into the easy rhythm of two people who had been dancing together since school —
"TO SINGHANIYA TECH!" Kyra yelled over the music, raising her glass.
"TO SINGHANIYA TECH!" Anika yelled back, raising her mocktail
They clinked.
Drank.
Grinned at each other like absolute idiots.
Monday. Anika thought, spinning once, glass raised, completely in her own world. Monday is going to be the beginning of everything.
She had absolutely no idea how right she was.
On the other side of Mumbai —
Two cars pulled up outside the club at 8:47 PM.
Vihaan Singhaniya stepped out of the first one.
Black shirt. Dark trousers. Watch that caught the light exactly once before he adjusted his sleeve. Hair slightly tousled from the drive — because of course it was, because some things were simply unfair.
He looked at the club entrance.
The line. The music thumping from inside. The crowd.
Then at Ishaan, who had appeared at his elbow looking deeply, personally delighted.
"Nahi." Vihaan said.
"Tu pehle se andar hai mere liye." Ishaan said cheerfully, already moving toward the entrance, "Chal."
"Ishaan —"
"11 baje." Ishaan reminded him over his shoulder, "Tere hi words the."
Vihaan stared at the entrance for exactly three seconds.
Then followed.
Inside —
The music was louder. The crowd was thicker than it had looked from outside. Vihaan's jaw tightened slightly — the automatic, unconscious response of someone who spent most of his time in spaces he controlled completely.
This was not a space he controlled.
He disliked it immediately. Aesa nahi h ki he never goes for partying but he does but today he wasn't really in mood as today he was dragged in someone's else party whom he didn't even know tbh.
"Kyra ka message aaya hai —" Ishaan was checking his phone, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, "Woh dance floor ke paas hain — left side —"
"Ishaan." Vihaan said flatly, "Drink pehle."
"Haan haan —"
They moved toward the bar. Vihaan ordered — something clean, no nonsense, the bartender moving with impressive efficiency because something about Vihaan Singhaniya made people move with impressive efficiency — and leaned against the counter, scanning the room out of old habit.
Crowded tonight.
More than usual.
His jaw tightened again.
11 baje. He reminded himself. Do ghante. Maximum.
He could survive two hours.
He had survived board meetings that lasted six.
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Anika was in a full mood, She was mid spin, mocktail raised, completely lost in the music, completely in her own world
When Kyra's phone buzzed.
Kyra glanced at it. That smile — the specific Ishaan smile — spread across her face immediately.
"Ishaan ka call hai —" she leaned toward Anika, "Two minutes! Don't move!"
"Ha ha —" Anika waved her off dramatically, "jaaao bulawa aaya hai... saiyaan ji ne bulaya hai"
But Kyra was already gone, phone pressed to her ear, disappearing into the crowd.
Anika shook her head smiling and kept moving.
The crowd shifted around her — the natural ebb and flow of a packed dance floor
She turned
And the entire contents of her mocktail launched itself with impressive, almost artistic accuracy —
Directly onto a white — no, cream — no, clearly extremely expensive shirt.
Of the man who had appeared out of absolutely nowhere.
The world stopped.
Well — the music didn't. The crowd didn't. But in Anika's head —
Complete. Absolute. Silence.
She stared at the spreading stain.
Then looked up.
He was tall. Significantly tall. Sharp jaw. Dark hair slightly dishevelled. And currently looking down at his shirt with an expression she could only describe as —
Controlled danger.
He looked up.
And those eyes —
Hazel. Grey green brown, shifting in the club lights, unreadable and sharp and —
Not the point Anika. Focus.
His expression wasn't shocked. Wasn't even particularly angry.
It was worse.
Dismissive.
Like a storm deciding whether to break.
Oh.
Oh no.
“Oh god, I’m so sor—” she started.
His voice cut clean through the music.
“Careless. Figures. Some people don’t belong in places like this.”
Her apology dissolved instantly.
“Excuse me?”
"Do you always walk around destroying people’s evenings, can't you watch where you're going, haa?” He pulled his shirt away from his skin with two fingers, expression dismissive.
Anika blinked. Then laughed. Not nicely.
“Funny. I was about to say the same.”
"Also, about Destroying YOUR evening?" she repeated, dark brown eyes locking onto hazel ones without flinching, "woh drink accidentally tum par gir because tum dekh ke nahi chal rhe the... Aur ab aise react kar rahe ho jaise maine jaan ke kiya ho?"
"Didn't you?"
"NAHI KIYA."
“Lower your voice.”
Oh. Wrong move.
Her eyes lit up dangerously.
“Lower my— Sunno bhaiya.” The bhaiya landed like a weapon. “Main almost sorry bolne wali thi. Almost. Lekin tumhara yeh attitude? Sorry deserve hi nahi karta.”
"Have you heard that saying, 'Ulta chor, kotwaal ko daate?' I'm damn sure... Tumhi ko dekhkar yeh aaya hogya unke dimaag."
“What nonsense.. Anyways, You've already ruined my night enough, Now I don't want to even waste my single second talking shits with you.”
“Correction — you ruined my shirt. And trust me, it’s worth more than your entire outfit.”
Anika: “Wow. Arrogant much? Enjoy your ruined evening, Mr. Expensive Shirt.”
She storms off, adrenaline buzzing.
Head high. Shoulders back. Steps absolutely, perfectly steady.
She waited until she had put exactly enough crowd between them before exhaling
Her hands were shaking slightly.
Adrenaline. She told herself firmly. Completely normal adrenaline. Nothing else.
She pulled out her phone —
Anika: KYRA
Anika: KYRA JALDI AA
Anika: nobody is dying
Anika: but COME BACK
Anika: RIGHT NOW
Behind her —
Vihaan stood exactly where she'd left him.
His eyes were still on the crowd. Finding her easily — that girl weaving through the people, chin still raised, phone in hand, like she'd won something.
He looked back at his shirt.
Then at where she'd gone.
Something passed across his face — there and gone in half a second.
Something that wasn't quite annoyance anymore. Something he didn't immediately have a name for.
"Unbelievable." He said. Quietly. Almost to himself.
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Kyra found Anika in forty five seconds flat —
"WHAT —"
"OKAY." Anika grabbed both her hands, voice dropping to a furious urgent whisper, "Koi tha. Tall tha, hazel eyes the, clearly paise wala tha — aur attitude? Kyra uska attitude toh dekho. Apni shirt ki price compare ki usne meri outfit se."
She made a sound of pure frustration.
Kyra was biting her lip.
"Kyra yeh funny nahi hai"
"Main hans nahi rahi"
"Haa aur me andhi hu"
"MAIN HAN — okay thodi si —" Kyra pressed her lips together, "Okay. Terrible man. Horrible attitude. Tu bilkul sahi thi. Ab chal Ishaan aa gaya hai, kabse wait kar raha hai tujhse milne k liye."
"Ha chal —"
"Uske saath uska dost bhi hai —"
"That's fine. Let's go." Anika smoothed her dress. Squared her shoulders. Shook off the interaction like she shook off everything — completely, deliberately, with her whole chest.
She was done thinking about rude strangers in expensive shirts.
Tonight was hers.
Ishaan was exactly what Anika had hoped for — warm, easy, the kind of person who made you feel comfortable in thirty seconds flat. She understood immediately why Kyra liked him.
"Toh tum hi ho legendary Anika —" he grinned, "Kyra ne bohot bataya hai."
"Achha hi bataya hoga —"
"Mostly." His eyes danced.
"Ishaan —" Kyra warned.
"Maine mostly bola! Mostly good hai!" He laughed, then glanced sideways, "Mera dost bhi aaya hai, aur tumhe pata hai jis company me select huyi ho n woh waha ka — "
"Bro, yaar chal ghar chalte hai."
She heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Ishaan looked up and grinned —
"Arre finally tu aagya teri hi baat horhi thi"
Anika turned around.
The smile died on her face.
He stopped too.
Cream shirt. Drink stain still visible.
Sharp jaw. Unreadable expression.
And those hazel eyes —
Currently looking at her with something that wasn't quite surprise.
Almost like he'd had a moment — somewhere between her walking away and this exact second — to process. To recalibrate.
Almost like he found this —
Interesting.
The universe, Anika decided with absolute certainty, had a very specific and very personal vendetta against her.
"Anika —" Ishaan said, completely, blissfully unaware of the atomic tension crackling between his best friend and Kyra's best friend, "Meet my best friend —"
"Vihaan." He said.
Smooth. Unbothered.
And the corner of his mouth —
Just barely.
Curved up.
And that smirk — sharp, deliberate — said only one thing: Game on.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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Hello my cute little butterflies 🦋❤️
Chapter 3 khatam hua...
Par kahani toh abhi shuru hui hai. 😏
Vote karo ⭐ aur milte hain Chapter 4 mein.
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