The orange hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the modest but neatly maintained apartment complex where Hema lived. Located a little away from the city’s bustling heart, the area was quiet and filled with the sounds of everyday life—a barking dog, children playing in the distance, and the occasional chime of a bicycle bell. It was the perfect haven for someone like Hema, who valued simplicity and peace.
As she walked through the narrow alley that led to her apartment, her heart raced with excitement. The crisp confirmation message on her phone that she had been hired at ZN Corporations felt surreal. She couldn’t stop glancing at it, the words “Welcome to ZN Corporations” lighting up her entire being. Hema adjusted her bag over her shoulder, her steps quick and lively despite the long day. The slight ache in her feet from walking in heels all day didn’t matter anymore. She paused briefly at the entrance of the three-story apartment building, her eyes automatically drifting to the second-floor balcony where her grandmother’s plants flourished in a riot of green. Inside the apartment, the faint smell of spices wafted through the air. The kitchen window was open, letting in the cool evening breeze. As soon as she stepped in, she spotted her grandmother by the stove, humming an old tune as she stirred something fragrant in the pot. “Dadi!” Hema called out, setting her bag on the table by the door. Her grandmother, a petite woman with soft, wrinkled features, turned to look at her with a smile. “Hema, you’re back! How was the interview?” For a moment, Hema couldn’t find her words. Her chest swelled with pride and excitement. Finally, she grinned wide, holding up her phone. “I got the job, Dadi! I got it!” Her grandmother’s face lit up with joy. She turned off the stove and came to hug Hema tightly. “Oh, my darling! I knew you could do it. I told you, didn’t I? Hard work always pays off!” Tears prickled Hema’s eyes as she hugged her grandmother back. “Thank you, Dadi.” Her grandmother pulled back, cupping Hema’s face in her hands. “You’ve made me so proud. Look at you—my smart, ambitious girl. ZN Corporations is lucky to have you.” “ yeah, they are so lucky” replied whit a sly smile. Hema laughed softly “I hope I can live up to their expectations. The CEO himself was there today, Dadi. He interviewed me. It was nerve-wracking!” Her grandmother’s eyebrows shot up. “The CEO? That’s a big deal, isn’t it? What’s he like?” Hema hesitated for a moment, her thoughts drifting back to Chris Zayden . His sharp gray eyes, the way he exuded authority without even trying, and the way he had looked at her during the interview—all of it had left a lasting impression. “He’s… arrogant ,” she admitted finally. “But also very sharp and focused. You can tell he doesn’t tolerate anything less than perfection.” Her grandmother nodded thoughtfully. “Well, then you’ll have to show him that you’re up to the task. I know you can.” Hema smiled and nodded, her confidence bolstered by her grandmother’s unwavering belief in her. Across the hallway, Hema’s childhood friend, Arvind, was lounging on the sofa in his living room, scrolling through his phone. His mother, a warm, cheerful woman with an endless supply of energy, was folding clothes nearby. When Hema knocked on their door, Arvind called out, “Come in!” without even looking up. She stepped inside, her excitement bubbling over. “Guess what, Arvind?” Arvind looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “What?” “I got the job!” For a second, he just stared at her, processing her words. Then he jumped to his feet, a grin spreading across his face. “You did it? Really?” Hema nodded, laughing as he came over and pulled her into a tight hug. “I got the message just now. I start as a trainee tomorrow !” “That’s amazing, Hema!” Arvind said, pulling back to look at her. “I knew you’d get it. You’ve worked so hard for this.” His mother joined them, her face beaming with pride. “Congratulations, beta! This calls for a celebration. Arvind, go get some sweets from the shop downstairs.” Arvind groaned. “Mom, can’t we just order something? It’s the 21st century.” “Don’t argue. Go!” she insisted, swatting him lightly with the folded towel in her hand. Hema laughed as Arvind reluctantly grabbed his wallet and headed out. She turned to his mother, her eyes sparkling. “I still can’t believe it. It feels like a dream.” “It’s not a dream, dear. You’ve earned this. Now, remember, stay focused and work hard. This is just the beginning.” Hema nodded, her resolve strengthening. “I will, Aunty. Thank you.” Later that evening, back in her apartment, Hema sat by the window, sipping on a cup of chai. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the sounds of the neighborhood quieted as the night deepened. She thought about everything that had led her to this moment—the countless hours spent preparing for interviews, the support of her grandmother and Arvind, and the sheer determination that had kept her going. But as much as she was excited about the new chapter in her life, a part of her couldn’t stop thinking about Chris Zayden . His intense gaze, his sharp questions, and the way he had dismissed the other candidates with a single word—it was all so vivid in her mind. She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. “Focus, Hema,” she muttered to herself. Still, as she turned off the lights and lay down in bed, the memory of his piercing gray eyes lingered. Next day, Zayden leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his eyes fixed on the large monitor mounted on the wall of his office. A live CCTV feed from the 12th-floor conference room played before him. He rarely involved himself in the details of new trainee orientations, but today, he found himself drawn to the screen. His sharp gray eyes caught sight of a familiar figure seated among the group of trainees. It was her—the girl who had captivated his attention during the interviews. Hema Singh. There was something different about her today. She wasn’t drenched from the rain, nor was she fidgeting nervously under his gaze. Instead, she looked calm and composed, dressed in a simple white kurta with a delicate pink border and a matching pink shawl draped over her shoulder. Her earrings, small and understated, swayed slightly as she moved her head to listen attentively to the HR manager. She looks different-Zayden muttered to himself, tilting his head slightly. It wasn’t just her appearance. There was an air of quiet determination about her today, a contrast to the nervous girl he had interviewed. Yet, the innocence in her eyes remained untouched. his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Sir?” Mark, his assistant, stepped into the office, interrupting his thoughts. Zayden turned his chair slightly but kept his gaze on the monitor. “Prepare a performance tracking system for the trainees. I want weekly reports starting immediately.” “Yes, sir.“The day started on a tense note at ZN Corporations. Word had spread quickly in the company’s internal chat groups—Chris Zayden, the enigmatic and strict CEO, had arrived unusually early. Employees scrambled to make it to their desks on time, some hurrying through the doors, others quickly arranging their desks to appear busy.Chris, however, had no interest in the frantic activity of his employees. He sat in his expansive office, leaning back in his chair, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the live CCTV feed from the lobby. His focus was not on the bustling workers but on one person—Hema Kapoor.He had been waiting, and as the minutes ticked by, his irritation grew. Half an hour late. For someone as punctual and controlled as Chris, it was a small but significant annoyance. He clenched his jaw as he finally saw her walking into the building. She was late, and worse—she was walking alongside another male employee, laughing casually.His grip on the edge of his desk tightened. “Who is he?” h
Chris Zayden had always been a man of focus. His sharp mind, calculated decisions, and unmatched charm made him a legend in the corporate world. Yet, over the past few weeks, his unwavering concentration had been fractured by something—or rather, someone.Hema.She wasn’t like the women Chris was used to. Hema was modest, quiet, and radiated a natural grace that didn’t demand attention but effortlessly captured it. She wasn’t clad in designer gowns or towering heels like the socialites who hovered around him. Her presence was subtle, understated, and completely irresistible.Chris found himself gravitating towards her every chance he got. Her black kurta—a simple yet elegantly embroidered outfit—floated gracefully as she walked, each movement soft yet deliberate. Her hair, dark and glossy, curled naturally around her face, catching the light and framing her radiant smile. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed him. It was her energy—the way she laughed with her trainees, the easy
Chris Zayden stood by the large glass windows of his penthouse office, sipping his coffee. He was restless. Chris decided to do something he rarely did—visit the departments personally. He wanted to see how she was doing , but he justified it to himself as a random check on the development block. Dressed impeccably in a dark grey tailored suit, his hair slicked back neatly, Chris exuded authority as he walked through the corridors. His posture was upright, his long strides confident and purposeful. The sound of his polished black shoes echoed, announcing his presence. Employees froze or straightened in their chairs as he passed, their expressions turning tense and alert. As he entered the development block, the air seemed heavier. The employees were all alert, stealing glances at him while pretending to work. His presence always had this effect, like a storm cloud entering a calm sky. At the far end of the room, Chris noticed a heated argument. Mr. Kumar, the department leader, wa
It was 7 PM, and the office was almost empty. The other departments had long since packed up for the day, leaving the development block eerily quiet. The only sound was the steady clatter of Hema’s fingers on the keyboard as she worked tirelessly. Her face was focused, her posture rigid as she leaned slightly toward the monitor, typing with determination.Arvind, who had returned to check on her, stood beside her desk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. “Hema, it’s getting late. Let me wait for you. I’ll drop you home.”Hema stopped typing briefly, her hands resting on the desk as she looked up at him. Her expression was calm but firm. “Arvind, I appreciate it, but I’m fine. You should go home. Your family must be waiting.”Arvind frowned, his posture slumping slightly as he leaned one hand on the back of her chair. “You know I don’t mind waiting. You’re pushing yourself too much.”Hema smiled faintly, her tired eyes softening. “I’ll manage, Arvind. Please, just go. I
Hema tightened her grip on her bag, feeling the worn leather dig into her palm. She glanced around once more, her heartbeat accelerating as the shadows seemed to grow taller with every step she took. The junction still felt so far away, like an oasis just out of reach. The faint glow of a distant streetlight was the only comfort she had in the oppressive darkness of the road. Every sound seemed amplified: the rustling leaves, the faint hum of insects, and her own hurried footsteps, which she swore were being echoed.Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of exhaustion and unease. She hadn’t eaten all day, her legs felt like lead, and her head throbbed faintly from the stress of the day. “Just get to the junction,” she muttered under her breath, willing herself to stay calm. “There’ll be autos there. You’ll be home soon.”But the unsettling feeling of being followed refused to leave her. It wasn’t loud—just the faintest shuffle of feet behind her, stopping whenever she stopped. She whipped
Hema closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the sharp, agonizing pain she expected any moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a drum, and her knees threatened to give way. Suddenly, she heard a loud crashing sound, the glass bottle shattering against something solid instead of her.She opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurry with unshed tears. And there he was—Chris Zayden, her boss. The cold, no-nonsense man she knew only from the corporate world stood in front of her like a shield.Chris’s arm was raised, his hand blocking the bottle that would have hit her head. The jagged shards of glass had dug into his skin, creating a deep cut from which blood was dripping down his wrist, staining the ground. Yet he didn’t seem to care about his injury. His piercing eyes, sharp as daggers, were locked on hers. His expression was a mix of fury and… something softer, something that Hema couldn’t quite place.“Are you okay?” he asked in a voice that was low but urgent, snapping her out o
Chris was about to start the engine when Hema’s grandmother stepped closer to the car. Clad in her modest cotton sari, she folded her hands together in a gesture of gratitude and leaned slightly toward the window. Her kind yet tired eyes looked up at him as she began to speak in Hindi.Chris hesitated, quickly realizing he didn’t understand a word she was saying. He tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting in confusion, but the warmth in her tone and the way her hands moved indicated gratitude.“Uh… I’m sorry, I don’t—” Chris began, but Hema, standing beside her grandmother, quickly stepped in.“She’s thanking you,” Hema said softly, glancing at Chris before turning to her grandmother. “Dhadhi is saying thank you for helping me get home safely.”Chris nodded respectfully after stepping out of the car despite the ache in his hand. He opened the door carefully, his tall frame unfolding as he stood. The soft moonlight highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint streaks of bl
Hema was ready for another busy day at the office. She stood at the entrance of their apartment, wearing a simple yet elegant mint-green salwar kameez with white embroidery. Her dupatta was loosely draped over her shoulders, and her long braid rested neatly against her back. Her grandmother followed her with a plate of freshly made parathas.“Beta, eat something before you leave. You’re always in a hurry,” her grandmother said, trying to feed her a bite at the doorstep.“Dhadhi, I’ll eat in the office canteen. I can’t be late,” Hema replied softly, adjusting her dupatta while glancing at the time on her phone.As they stood there, both of them noticed a sleek black cab waiting outside the apartment gate with the ZN Corporations logo clearly displayed on the side. The sight of it caught her grandmother’s attention immediately.“Hema, look at that! They sent a car for you? Your boss must really care for his employees,” her grandmother exclaimed, her face lighting up with admiration.Hem
Holi had arrived, and all across the country, the festival of colors was in full swing.The streets of India transformed into a lively spectacle of joy. In the north, cities like Mathura and Vrindavan were overflowing with tourists and devotees playing Lathmar Holi, where women playfully chased men with sticks while colors filled the air. In Rajasthan, palace courtyards saw people celebrating with floral colors and folk music, while in Punjab, the festival took on a warrior-like spirit with Hola Mohalla, a display of martial arts and horse-riding. In the south, temple prayers and cultural performances brought a quieter but equally vibrant celebration.From Delhi to Mumbai, Kolkata to Chennai, people danced to dhol beats, smeared colors on each other, and laughed as they were drenched in water balloons and buckets of colored water. Children ran wild with water guns, spraying passersby with bright gulal. Sweets like gujiya, jalebi, and malpua were passed around, along with thandai, some
On Monday, the results of the presentations were announced in the conference room. All the interns were called, their faces filled with nervous anticipation. Hema Kapoor sat toward the back, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her presentation. She replayed every word, every slide, and every look from Zayden as he reviewed her work.Zayden walked into the room, his commanding presence silencing the murmurs. Dressed sharply in his tailored navy suit, his eyes scanned the interns briefly before he sat at the head of the table. Mark followed behind him, holding a folder with the results.“Good afternoon, everyone,” Zayden began, his deep voice cutting through the tension in the air. “After careful review of all your projects, I’ve made a decision. We were looking for creativity, practicality, and, most importantly, something that adds value to the company. I must say, many of you presented solid ideas, and it was a tough choice.”Hema swallow
As lunch carried on, Grandmother leaned back in her chair, her warm curiosity evident in her eyes. She had grown fond of Zayden in a short time and decided to ask him about his family, wanting to know more about the man who had entered their lives so unexpectedly.She got help from Hema to install translator app in her phone . “So, beta,” she began kindly, placing her glass of water back on the table and spoke to him with the help of translator , “tell me about your family. Who all are there at home?”Zayden paused, his fork hovering in mid-air for a moment. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, too brief to read, but Hema noticed it. He placed the fork down carefully and sat back, his expression composed yet distant.“My family is small,” he said simply, his deep voice calm but carrying a hint of restraint. “There’s just my father and my younger sister, Mia. We live in America.”Grandmother’s eyes lit up at the mention of America. “Oh, America! Such a big country, beta. And your si
As Zayden started peeling the onions with careful, clumsy movements, he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his eyes. It caught him off guard, and instinctively, he brought his fingers—still coated with the pungent juice of the onions—closer to rub them.“Ah…” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as his eyes began to water uncontrollably.Hema, who was stirring something on the stove, turned sharply at his discomfort. “Zayden, wait! Don’t touch your eyes!” she exclaimed, her voice urgent. She rushed to his side, quickly grabbing his arm to stop him.“Let me help,” she said, her tone softer now, guiding him by the wrist toward the washing area. Zayden followed without resistance, his vision blurry but focused on her voice, which had a soothing quality he hadn’t noticed before.When they reached the sink, Hema turned on the tap and held his hand under the water first, rinsing away the remnants of the onion juice from his fingers. Then, she gently tilted his face toward the runnin
Zayden parked his sleek black car in front of Hema’s modest apartment building, drawing the attention of the neighborhood. His sharp appearance in casual jeans and a fitted white T-shirt, paired with his confident stride, made heads turn. Holding a fruit basket in one hand, he made his way to the door. As he approached, he noticed curious eyes peeking through windows and over balconies—a typical Indian thing, he thought with mild amusement.Reaching Hema’s door, he stood for a moment, unsure why he felt his heart race. Taking a breath to compose himself, he rang the doorbell.Inside, Hema had just finished her morning tea and was in her casual homewear—a simple cotton kurta with her hair tied into a messy bun. When she heard the bell, she opened the door, not expecting the sight in front of her.Her eyes widened in shock. “Mr. Zayden? What are you doing here?” she asked, perplexed.Zayden’s sharp gaze softened as he took her in. Even without makeup, with her hair in a messy bun and we
Chris Zayden sat in the silence of his luxurious hotel suite, the dim lighting casting shadows across the room. Sundays were always a struggle for him. With no employees to manage, no meetings to attend, and no excuse to hover around the development block where Hema worked, he was left with a hollow void. It frustrated him to no end. The silence felt like a curse, amplifying the storm inside him.He sprawled on the leather couch, dressed in a casual black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, a stark contrast to his usual sharp suits. Cold Coffee sat untouched on the table, condensation forming around its rim. He leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers to the chaos in his mind.To distract himself, Chris picked up his tablet and began reviewing some pending work. His sharp, focused eyes scanned through the reports and figures, but nothing seemed to hold his attention for long. He glanced at the clock—it was only 10 a.m. “This day is going to drag on
Hema was ready for another busy day at the office. She stood at the entrance of their apartment, wearing a simple yet elegant mint-green salwar kameez with white embroidery. Her dupatta was loosely draped over her shoulders, and her long braid rested neatly against her back. Her grandmother followed her with a plate of freshly made parathas.“Beta, eat something before you leave. You’re always in a hurry,” her grandmother said, trying to feed her a bite at the doorstep.“Dhadhi, I’ll eat in the office canteen. I can’t be late,” Hema replied softly, adjusting her dupatta while glancing at the time on her phone.As they stood there, both of them noticed a sleek black cab waiting outside the apartment gate with the ZN Corporations logo clearly displayed on the side. The sight of it caught her grandmother’s attention immediately.“Hema, look at that! They sent a car for you? Your boss must really care for his employees,” her grandmother exclaimed, her face lighting up with admiration.Hem
Chris was about to start the engine when Hema’s grandmother stepped closer to the car. Clad in her modest cotton sari, she folded her hands together in a gesture of gratitude and leaned slightly toward the window. Her kind yet tired eyes looked up at him as she began to speak in Hindi.Chris hesitated, quickly realizing he didn’t understand a word she was saying. He tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting in confusion, but the warmth in her tone and the way her hands moved indicated gratitude.“Uh… I’m sorry, I don’t—” Chris began, but Hema, standing beside her grandmother, quickly stepped in.“She’s thanking you,” Hema said softly, glancing at Chris before turning to her grandmother. “Dhadhi is saying thank you for helping me get home safely.”Chris nodded respectfully after stepping out of the car despite the ache in his hand. He opened the door carefully, his tall frame unfolding as he stood. The soft moonlight highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint streaks of bl
Hema closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the sharp, agonizing pain she expected any moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a drum, and her knees threatened to give way. Suddenly, she heard a loud crashing sound, the glass bottle shattering against something solid instead of her.She opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurry with unshed tears. And there he was—Chris Zayden, her boss. The cold, no-nonsense man she knew only from the corporate world stood in front of her like a shield.Chris’s arm was raised, his hand blocking the bottle that would have hit her head. The jagged shards of glass had dug into his skin, creating a deep cut from which blood was dripping down his wrist, staining the ground. Yet he didn’t seem to care about his injury. His piercing eyes, sharp as daggers, were locked on hers. His expression was a mix of fury and… something softer, something that Hema couldn’t quite place.“Are you okay?” he asked in a voice that was low but urgent, snapping her out o