Chapter 1 : SOME MEETINGS FEEL DESTINED.
He dismounted his bike, the engine letting out a low hum before coming to a complete rest. Removing his helmet, he ran a hand through his hair and head to the coffee shop.
Inside, the aroma of freshly ground espresso filled the air. Anya grabbed her coffee cup, turning around briskly to head for the exit.
But in her haste, she collided right into him. The warm liquid splashed across the front of his pristine shirt.
"I'm sorry!" she panicked, her voice high with anxiety. Reaching frantically into her bag, she pulled out a tissue and started dabbing at the fabric on his chest.
"I am so, so sorry, let me just..."
"Watch where you're..." Rivansh cut in, his voice initially sharp and cold. But as his eyes locked onto hers, his irritation faltered.
He paused for a moment, taking in her wide, frantic eyes, before finishing quietly, "...going."
"Hey! Do you even know who he is?" his friend interjected defensively, stepping forward with a glare and reaching out his hand to push her away from touching Rivansh.
Before his friend could lay a finger on her, Rivansh grabbed his friend's wrist in mid-air, halting him with an unyielding grip.
"I'm really sorry. It wasn't intentional," Anya pleaded desperately, her hands trembling as she pulled back.
"If there's damage, I'll compensate you. How much?"
"10k," Rivansh stated flatly, his posture calm and composure unreadable as he casually pulled out his phone to process the digital payment.
"Wait, what?!" Anya gasped, her eyes widening in pure shock.
"10k... only for this shirt?"
My whole outfit together isn't even worth that much, she thought in absolute dismay, her stomach twisting in a knot.
"How about I take it, get it dry cleaned, and return it to you?" she asked, offering a nervous, hopeful smile.
"It can't be dry cleaned," Rivansh replied firmly, his tone completely unbothered by her desperation.
Anya swallowed hard, her mind racing to find a solution. "The situation is... can I pay in installments?"
"I promise, just give me two months. I won't default on it."
"What if you just run away?" his friend cut in skeptically, crossing his arms and scoffing.
"I won't!" Anya insisted, her voice trembling with sincerity.
She quickly pulled out a small notepad, scribbled down her digits, and handed the slip over. "This is my contact number. You can call or text me if the payment is late."
Hoping that was enough to diffuse the tension, she quickly turned around to leave, taking a deep, shaky breath as she moved toward the door.
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed as Anya pushed through, stepping into the muggy afternoon air. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her face remained a rigid, unreadable mask.
"Hello," Rivansh’s deep, quiet voice called out behind her.
She paused, turning her head just enough to catch him in her peripheral vision.
His tall frame stood motionless under the ambient light of the entryway, dark eyes fixed on her with an unusual, guarded intensity.
"May I know your name?" he asked softly.
A subtle, icy smirk flickered across Anya’s lips. She looked him up and down, her expression completely devoid of warmth.
"Why? So you can invoice me for breathing the same air as you?" she replied flatly, her voice sharp as a blade.
"You have my number for the money. That's all you need."
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the crowded sidewalk without a single backward glance.
She didn't do pleasantries, and she certainly didn't do small talk with arrogant strangers.
Behind her, the sudden silence felt heavy.
Rivansh stood frozen on the pavement.
The cold, ruthless demeanor that usually made his business partners flinch completely vanished, replaced by a sudden, grounding flush of heat rising up his neck.
His hands, usually shoved casually in his pockets, twitched with a subtle nervousness. He blinked, staring at the empty space where she had stood just seconds ago, his mind racing to process the sharp sting of her rejection.
He gripped the small paper slip with her contact details tight in his palm, his chest tightening with an awkward, flustered panic.
His friend stepped up beside him, breaking the silence with a loud whistle and a pat on Rivansh’s rigid shoulder. "Damn, brother... she just handed you your own head on a platter. Cold as ice."
Rivansh swallowed hard, clearing his throat to regain his composure, though the faint faint pink on his ears betrayed him. He carefully unfolded the paper slip, staring at the neatly written digits.
"Help me check her background," Rivansh said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet command, though a subtle tremble of nervous energy still lingered beneath his tone.
"Find out who she is."
His friend glanced at the slip, then at Rivansh’s flustered expression, a knowing grin spreading across his face.
"Ehh! Guaranteed, task complete," he muttered, winking as he snatched the contact details.
"Let's see who managed to throw the great Rivansh completely off his game."
