AVAISHA

“Where are you?” I asked, phone on speaker, as I zipped up my black dress. It hugged every curve like it had been made for me, because it had.

“I’m with my parents. I’ll call you in a bit,” Vansh said, his voice smooth, too calm.

Smooth, my ass.

For how long are you going to hide, you little scumbag? I can practically imagine you sprawled with her, grinning like the dirtbag you are. Pathetic.

I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly left my head.

My boyfriend had been cheating on me for weeks. And yes, I’d known for almost a week.

I was quiet. Calm. Definitely not heartbroken.

That little piece of rug had come to me first, lips trembling as he promised he’d let his blood flow before a single tear touched my cheek. Sweet words, “I’m sorry”s, tiny gifts wrapped in desperation.

I had been too naive to realise, boys like him, men like him… they only value a woman as long as she’s not theirs yet. The moment you’re in their grasp? You’re just a convenience.

Well, congratulations, darling. You’re officially out of the equation.

I applied a slightly darker, maroon lip stain and added mascara. Let my hair fall loose, it brushed past my waist, soft and heavy.

That little bastard. “I love it when your hair falls like a wave down your waist.”

I’d cut it all off the moment I get back. I needed a better haircut anyway.

My phone rang. Caller ID: Nishant. I picked it up.

“Swe Almac Restaurant, West Street,” he said.

“Thank you, Nish. I owe you,” I replied, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. Smooth hair, sharp lips, perfect posture. Ain’t I too beautiful for a bastard like him?

“I owed you, Aves. And now we’re even,” Nishant said, then cut the call.

Swe Almac Restaurant. Wait… the same place I was going with my parents today? For a dinner with some of their business colleagues?

God, and why do I have to go to a dinner with their colleague? I hate going out and meeting random people.

“Isha, are you ready?” I heard my father’s voice outside the door, knocking lightly.

“The door is open,” I said, glancing at him. He was wearing a black suit, the same one he had custom-made by Eric Moneta.

“How do I look?” I asked, spinning around to show him my dress.

His eyes didn’t leave my face. “Gorgeous, as always, Ishu,” he said.

“Why are you guys taking me to a formal dinner?” I whined, adjusting the diamond earrings my cousin Ilana had gifted me. Ilana, the owner of one of the finest jewelry brands in the world, designer for huge celebrities, and internationally renowned, had really outdone herself this time.

I smirked at my reflection. Formal dinner or not, I looked every bit the part of a diva tonight.

My mother lifted her phone and snapped a picture as she watched me glide down the stairs.

Together, we stepped out of the mansion, the polished marble reflecting the soft glow of the evening lights, and made our way to the exclusive black SUV waiting outside.

“Please, come inside, Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor, and Ms. Kapoor,” the manager said, ushering us into the grand lobby of the five-star hotel.

“It’s actually Mrs. Singhania,” my mother corrected with a polite smile. She hadn’t taken my father’s surname after marriage, because why would she? He certainly wasn’t going to change his.

The hotel was massive, glittering with chandeliers and opulent décor. Beautiful. Impressive. Enough to make anyone pause.

But my heart thudded in my chest. I was nervous. A little. Very little. About seeing my boyfriend with another girl, and wondering who that girl could be.

I had never revealed who I really was to him. That I could be spoiled, that I could have everything I wanted… which, technically, I wasn’t spoiled, but let’s be honest, I could be. I never told him who Avaisha Kapoor really was. Everything I had, everything I appeared to be… it was my parents’ hard work, not mine.

And yet, tonight, I would show up anyway.

My Louboutin heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked beside my parents, two bodyguards trailing behind us, one stationed ahead.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a familiar figure, blue shirt, black jeans. His head snapped toward me, his eyes widening as he stood up slowly. Thinking I was going to him.

And then my gaze flicked to the girl beside him.

Kritika. That bitch. Cheating on me with my best friend? You two really thought you could play me?

I slowed my pace just slightly, letting my eyes linger on them a fraction too long, because tonight… tonight, they were going to remember exactly who Avaisha Kapoor was.

They thought I was walking toward them. Both of them stood, glancing in my direction as I closed the distance.

My eyes burned.

I am not going to cry over these idiots.

I walked past them, heels clicking like a warning, letting my presence speak louder than any words ever could.

His familiar scent hit me as I walked inches beside him, and I felt a wave of disgust roll through me.

A few more steps, and my parents stopped. I was too enraged to focus on anything but the person standing in front of me.

Three people awaited. A man, probably around my father’s age, in a black suit that matched his stature perfectly. A woman in a white saree with a golden border, draped elegantly, hair half pinned up, radiating quiet grace.

And then… a boy. Tall, much taller than me, even with my heels. Probably my age, maybe a little older. He wore a perfectly tailored Armani suit; his hair was slicked back with gel, a few strands rebelliously falling on his forehead. His eyes were grey, just like his mother’s. His lips soft pink, cheeks with a subtle flush, skin glowing under the warm light.

He was… beautiful. Really beautiful.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring until my father’s voice broke through.

“Avaisha, this is Mr. and Mrs. Taneja, and their son.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Taneja, this is our daughter, Avaisha Kapoor,” my father added, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder.

Their son nodded politely, extending his hand. “Kshyan Taneja,” he said.

God. His voice. Deep, warm, and soft, so soft I wanted to hear it on loop.

“Avaisha Kapoor,” I said, raising my hand to meet his. His grip was firm and warm; mine was cold, but steady.

I stepped forward, offering a warm hug to his parents, my hands brushing lightly over their shoulders. They smiled, returning the gesture with polite warmth.

Kshyan mirrored the gesture with my parents, hands on shoulders, brief but firm, his eyes meeting mine for the slightest moment. A formality that somehow felt… personal.

I pulled back slightly, keeping my posture perfect, letting the lingering touch speak without words.

I took a seat directly across from Kshyan.

He didn’t glance my way once. His attention was entirely on our parents and his, who were deep in conversation, exchanging pleasantries and smiles.

I had been so thrilled by his presence that, for a moment, I almost forgot why I was furious.

Almost.

The memory came crashing back, my boyfriend- oops- I mean my ex-boyfriend, the one I had trusted, cheating on me with my best friend. My blood boiled, and I gripped the edge of my chair just slightly, letting my nails press into my palms.

Yet, even through the anger, my eyes kept drifting to him, Kshyan Taneja. Tall, composed, utterly beautiful. Oblivious to my existence. And somehow, that only made it worse.

My phone vibrated with notifications under the table. I unlocked it quickly, careful that no one noticed, my parents would kill me if they caught me using it during dinner.

Ava, I can explain. It’s not what you think. We were just at dinner, Vansh had texted.

I scoffed.

You rotten little rat.

I typed back, fingers sharp and deliberate:

"I was too hypnotized to see who you really are. I let you even stand near me, that was my biggest mistake. I dump you. End everything between us. And tell that girl… she’s nothing but a rat."

“You should be pleased I didn’t take a picture of both of you and post it on my Instagram story for my ten thousand followers to see,” I typed, every word dripping with venomous charm.

Not that I ever made our relationship public. Thank God for that.

I closed my phone and took a deep breath, glancing up, only to see Kshyan, sneaking a peek at his phone beneath the table.

So he’s playing the same game? Lol. Looks like we’re on the same page.

“Ma’am, what would you like to order?” the waiter asked, after everyone else had given theirs.

I glanced at my mother.

She named a few of the fancy dishes. I never ordered at these formal dinners, I didn’t know half of these things anyway. Give me spicy street food any day, and I’d be happy.

I excused myself politely and made my way to the washroom. I needed a room to breathe… somewhere I could be me for a few minutes.

I stormed toward the washroom, my hands scrubbing violently under the hand-wash, over and over. Rage and suffocation bubbled inside me, and I didn’t stop until my hands were red, the skin tearing at a few corners.

Then I noticed someone standing beside me. I turned.

Kritika.

Her eyes were nervous, darting. My gaze fell on the shirt she wore- it was Vansh’s.

I shook my head. I had nothing to say.

“Ava- I swear, whatever you’re thinking is a misunderstanding. We’re planning your birthday, that’s it,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her hands.

“My birthday already passed a week ago, Kritika,” I spat, my voice dripping venom. “The same night I saw you and that anushole kissing.”

She tried to grab me, but I shoved her away, walking out.

Vansh stood in front of me, his hands reaching for mine.

“Ava, you know I could never cheat on you. How can I? Why would you even doubt me? Is that how strong your ‘love’ was for me?” he spat, voice shaking with frustration.

I looked down at the hands holding mine. They burnt, literally, my skin torn and raw.

Disgust washed over me. Not just at his touch, but at his words.

“You know what, Vansh?” I said, my voice ice and venom. “The only time I ever lied to you was when I said you looked handsome. Because honestly? You look like a bald chicken with no wings and no beak. You’re nothing but a boy with a fragile ego who loves breaking women’s hearts. And you know what? I’m so freaking happy that you and that snake got each other.”

I pulled my hands free, letting the sting of my words, and the burn of my skin, linger in the air.

“Oh, and you think you’re going to find some man after me? With that bossy, manly attitude of yours?” he sneered as I turned to walk away.

My fist curled, nails digging deep into my palm.

“Who said I need a man to be happy?” I shot back, my gaze flicking between the two of them. “And as if being with you ever felt like being with a man.”

His jaw clenched as he stepped forward.

To what- hit me?

I dare you.

Kritika immediately grabbed his arm, holding him back.

“I trusted you, Kritika,” I said quietly, my eyes dropping to their intertwined fingers.

They burned into my vision. My eyes stung red, and for a second, I genuinely considered smashing the vase beside me straight into their heads.

“Avaisha.”

The voice came from behind.

I turned.

Kshyan stood there. Still. Tall. His face unreadable, eyes fixed on me, not shocked, not curious. Just watching.

And before my brain could catch up with my mouth, the words spilled out, sharp, reckless, burning.

“And meet my boyfriend,” I spat, my gaze locked on Vansh, “Kshyan Taneja.”