CHAPTER-5

VIHAAN'S POV:

Vihaan’s construction site Office,

Top Floor

Vihaan stood near the glass window on the top floor, arms folded, watching her storm out through the gate, muttering something under her breath, her face burning with rage. Even from this distance, he could read her body language like a book.

A smirk tugged at his lips—not in mockery, but that involuntary curve that only she could bring out of him.

As she neared the gate, he noticed her glance upward—right at him. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, he smirked again. Their eyes met for the briefest second.

Then—SPLASH.

The loud clatter of a paintbox crashing to the ground echoed from below.

His eyes widened.

She stood there, frozen, drenched in red paint, looking like an abstract explosion on canvas. For a moment, Vihaan instinctively moved forward—his hand pressed against the glass, ready to rush down.

But he stopped himself.

She didn’t even glance up again. She simply turned and walked away—silently. And that unsettled him.

Vihaan clenched his jaw. Something didn’t feel right.

He called out sharply, his voice cold and clipped, to the worker below, “Aankhein nahi hain tumhare paas? Tum paint kar rahe ho ya bomb set kar rahe the?”

("Are you blind? Were you painting or setting off a bomb?")

The worker stammered an apology, nervously nodding. Vihaan waved him off with a glare, but his mind remained on the girl.

Even covered in paint, those fierce eyes of hers wouldn't leave his thoughts.

Later That Evening – Vihaan’s Office

Vihaan sat at his desk, pretending to work, but his mind was elsewhere. After a few minutes, he pressed the intercom.

There was a knock.

“Come in,” he said.

Samarth, his PA, entered. “Sir, you called me?”

Vihaan nodded. “Hmm… I want a cup of coffee—and all the details about that girl. You have one hour.”

Samarth blinked. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“No. You can go now,” Vihaan said, his tone final.

“Okay, sir,” Samarth replied and left.

Author’s POV – One Hour Later

Samarth returned with a file in hand. He knew what Vihaan meant by all the details—even the ones that history might have tried to erase.

He knocked and entered Vihaan’s office, handing him the file.

Vihaan glanced at the cover:
CHAHAT SANJAY ARORA

He opened it.

1. Name: Chahat Sanjay Arora

2. Age: 25

3. DOB: 04/05/19**

4. Occupation: Primary School Teacher
             & a secret writer under the ID: @aapki_Sukoon

5. Parents: Mahak Sanjay Arora & Sanjay Arora

6. Family: Lives in a joint family with parents, grandmother, uncle-aunty, and cousins

7. Education:
     - B.A. Topper from Delhi University
     - M.A. Gold Medallist from Mumbai Arts University

8. About Chahat:
     A carefree girl with countless responsibilities. According to others, she’s one of the sweetest people around. She never thinks twice before helping someone. Loves kids, which is one reason she chose to teach primary school.

As Vihaan read through her file, something clicked in his mind. He had seen her before. He knew more about her than this—but couldn’t place where or when. That strange familiarity kept bothering him.

Chahat’s POV – Same Day

I stormed into the house, already in a foul mood, when my little sister, Pihu, blocked the way.

“Who are you? How dare you enter our house like that?” she said dramatically.

I groaned. Here we go again.

“Pihu, please move. Let me in.”

She widened her eyes. “How do you know my name? Wait… why do you sound like my sister?”

I was completely done. My clothes were dripping with red paint, my head was pounding, and now my sister wanted to play detective.

“Pihu, get out of the way! I’m already frustrated. Can’t you see my condition?”

She burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, sorry. But tell me—how did this happen? Who did this to you?”

“I’ll tell you later. Let me shower first,” I snapped.

Later – After the Shower

I changed into a comfortable Kurti, informed Dev Sir on call about my absence, and sat on my bed. Pihu was already waiting.

I narrated the entire incident. At first, she laughed like a maniac. But seeing my expression, she joined in on the name-calling too.

“You know that jerk didn’t even bother to ask if I was okay. He just stood there, smirking. I didn’t need his help, fine—but a simple sorry? I deserved that at least!” I ranted.

“Oh my God! So much hate for this guy. But tell me one thing—was he handsome at least?” she teased.

“Seriously, Pihu?” I scowled and pushed her out of my room. “I have work to do!”

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened. And despite myself, he reminded me of him—the one I was trying so hard to forget.

Two Weeks Later

Life had returned to normal. Work was usual, the weekend was finally here, and thankfully, the noise from the construction site had stopped. Best part? I hadn’t seen that arrogant jerk ever since.

As I sipped chai in the staffroom, lost in thought, my phone rang.

Conference Call: Arun & Diti

I picked up.

Chahat (C): “Hi guys!”

Diti (D): “Hi, my baby!”

Arun (A): “Hello, Malkin! Okay listen—no more hi-hello, let’s get to the point. Tomorrow’s the weekend and the three of us are meeting at our regular place.”

Diti: “Yes, Chahat! I called to tell you the same thing, but this duffer said it first. Anyway, tomorrow it is!”

Chahat: “Okay okay, like I had any choice. You two never take no for an answer.”

Arun & Diti (together): “Sahi pakde hain!” (“You guessed it right!”)
And then they both laughed like crazy people.

After chatting for a while, we ended the call.

I picked up my notebook and headed toward my last class of the day.

…