The Calm Before The Collison
SHASHIKA KHANNA
I was running late. Again. The metro had been late, the auto driver had taken three wrong turns, and I had exactly two minutes left to get into the hotel lobby, act like I belonged, and meet the event client I was absolutely not prepared for.
Shashika Khanna, Blooming in the peaks of her youth at age 24. Standing at a height of 5′4", build slim, graceful frame; elegant yet natural beauty, Definitely a person, one's eyes would be struct at. Almond-shaped oceanic blue-grey eyes, filled with emotion that always give her away. Long, wavy dark brown hair with caramel undertones, usually left loose or tied in a messy bun when working. Soft, melodic voice, but quick-witted. A voice that can calm or slice with sarcasm.Warm, grounded, compassionate personality, Emotionally intuitive, slightly clumsy under pressure, but sharp when it matters.
That’s when it happened.
A pigeon attacked me. Yes !! A freaking pigeon attacked me.
Okay maybe not attacked, but it swooped low enough to make me shriek and trip —and my overpriced coffee flew out of my hand and into a man’s very expensive looking blazer.
I gasped.
He stood still.
I panicked.
“Ugh! That pigeon! This is all your fault!” I blurted, pointing at him. Yes. Him. The man. Not the pigeon.
He just… blinked. Like I was a very strange weather forecast he was seeing on a news channel.
And then he said, voice low and slightly amused, “Are you blaming me for a bird’s behavior?”
I looked up.
He was tall. Impossibly good looking. I blink once, and it’s as if the gods themselves hit the pause button just so I could soak him in properly. Tall, broad-shouldered, every step he takes is this perfect blend of power and grace, like he was carved by the hands of Olympus itself. His jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass. His cheekbones? Greek statue level. It’s honestly offensive how perfect he looks.
His skin has this golden glow, like he’s been kissed by sunlight and blessed by Aphrodite herself. I catch myself actually drooling—mouth slightly open, breath caught in my throat, looking like someone just handed me all the answers to life.
He looks like he stepped out of a myth, and I’m just standing here like a mere mortal, desperately trying to remember how legs work.. And his eyes—oh my god—those eyes. Piercing, otherworldly, some impossible shade that makes me forget how to form sentences.
I literally feel my brain short-circuit. “I… uh… yes?” Smooth, Shashika. Real smooth.
He looked down at the coffee stain, then back at me and said “I suppose I deserved that.”
“...You did?”
“I did,” he nodded. “For not moving fast enough. Next time I’ll fight the pigeon.”
I was speechless. I blinked.
He was being sarcastic. Or weird. Or… was he flirting?
I didn’t have time to decode him. My phone buzzed with my manager’s name and seven missed calls.
“Crap—I gotta go!” I said, before rushing past him with probably a bit of coffee still on my palm.
But for a moment—just a moment—I turned back. And he was still standing there, looking right at me. Smiling. He smiled.
And somewhere in that messy, caffeinated disaster—my story with Aarav Malhotra quietly began.
Even if I didn’t know it yet .
