"Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope."
- Maya Angelou.

Misha's POV:

"Miss Misha Arora, you've executed this flawlessly. It's precisely what I envisioned for my office," praised Mr. Mehta, my client.

"Thank you. I'm delighted to hear that," I replied. Mr. Mehta, involved in real estate, collaborated with the company I work for to design his building. While my colleagues handled the interior of the building, I was tasked with designing his office to align with his preference for a traditional look. Although traditional isn't my usual style, I gave it my best effort, and it seems I've finally earned appreciation for my hard work. Thank goodness.

Leaving his office with a sense of relief, I had been a bit tense about the designs I presented. Colleagues warned me that he's a meticulous man who has already requested numerous changes. Regardless, I was happy that he has finally approved the designs.

Walking towards the parking area outside Mr. Mehta's office, I noticed my colleague and friend, Pranita, engrossed in a phone conversation.

"Let's go," I said, opening the car door. As I was about to sit, I realized she hadn't noticed and was still typing.

"Pranita, let's go," I exclaimed, making her startle.

"Huh, yeah. Sorry, I didn't notice you," she said as she settled inside. Did she really not hear me? Can people get that absorbed while chatting? Maybe, but it's too much I guess and too dangerous as well.

I sighed and started the car, encountering heavy traffic. The journey felt sluggish. Pranita remained silent, so I decided to break the silence.

"Mr. Mehta liked my designs."

A smile adorned her face, likely a reaction to messages rather than my words. She didn't hear me again! I chose to overlook it and focused on the slow-moving traffic ahead.

"Sorry. You said something. What was it?" she asked, putting her phone down on her lap now that her boyfriend had ended the chat. Finally, an opportunity for her to engage in conversation with me.

"Nothing much. I just mentioned the traffic is pretty heavy today," I replied not wanting to talk further. As a friend she should be asking about my today's work especially when she knew how important it was to me however here, even though I told her, she didn't pay heed to it.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, and then her phone rang again. As her phone lit up, I braced myself for another round of romantic and cheesy conversations. Irritated, I shifted my attention to the window, regretting bringing her along, but as a colleague, it seemed necessary.

The traffic was already frustrating, and her continuous chatter added to my irritation. I don't mind her talking to her boyfriend, but did it have to be the entire time, especially when she had a friend with her? A memory surfaced from high school when a friend suggested I might be jealous seeing others with their boyfriends because I didn't have one. I still ponder that statement. Am I really jealous? The truth is, I don't want a boyfriend. The person I love has always been committed, and I've never been interested in anyone.

Speaking of my personal experience, I've often had friends who prioritized their boyfriends over our friendship, causing me quite a bit of hurt. I've often wondered if this is a common behavior or unique to my circle. Regardless, I've never found a definitive answer.

After parking outside my office entrance, I stepped out of the car without exchanging a word with Pranita. I was about to enter the building when a tap on my right shoulder stopped me. Confused, I turned right and saw no one. Then, I turned left and found Karthik, my best friend, grinning at me. Idiot.

"I missed you," he said, sounding like a little boy.

"I missed you too, idiot," I replied, ruffling his hair – something I loved doing simply because he hated it.

"Stop it. How was the meeting? Did he like your designs?" he asked, excitement evident in his eyes.

"Thanks for asking, best friend," I replied, ruffling his hair again. I felt so happy just to hear him ask this question.

"Stop it, girl. I hate you," he whined.

"I love you too," I said, taking him inside with me. Karthik is not just a colleague but a best friend whom I value greatly. We met on our very first day of the job and became good friends. Despite having a girlfriend and getting married soon, I've never seen him engage in prolonged phone conversations when he's with me or anyone else. That's one thing I appreciate about boys – their priorities are often straightforward.

Having coffee with Karthik in our canteen, I was sharing details about my meeting today when Pranita approached us. I noticed her coming but didn't react.

"So just because you met your best friend, you forget about me," she taunted. Really? I forgot her? What about when she was so busy with her phone?

"Sorry, I didn't notice you," I replied, sipping my coffee and heard Karthik chuckle.

"Anyway, sit down. Mr. Mehta liked her designs," Karthik said and made her sit next to me.

"Really? Wow, I'm so happy for you," Pranita said, giving me a side hug.

"Thank you," I said with a smile. I don't know if it was genuine but I smiled.

"See, you didn't even tell me this," Pranita said, making me even angrier now. What on earth!

***

It was evening when I arrived home. I rang the doorbell twice, but there was no response. On the third attempt, Mom opened the door with a big smile on her face. She mouthed an apology and ushered me inside. What is she up to?

"How was your day?" she asked, still smiling brightly.

"It was good. Mr. Mehta liked my designs," I replied, reaching for a water bottle in the fridge. However, Mom beat me to it, pouring me a glass. Okay, so it's another marriage proposal.

"Mishu," Mom called, and I was sure it was marriage-related. Why, god why? Can't she understand I don't want to get married so soon?

"Mom, please. Not another proposal. I'm not getting married," I said.

"At least meet him once. Wait, I will show his picture," she insisted, reaching for her mobile, but I stopped her.

"I don't want to."

"At least see his picture. You might know him as well," she suggested. I got angry but controlled myself as I didn't wished to hurt her.

"Okay. What is his name?" I asked, already planning to decline the proposal no matter whoever it is and come up with some lame reason.

"Okay," she said excitedly, scrolling through her phone.

"Varun Jaisinghani," she replied.

"Okay," I said, sounding uninterested. Then, I recalled the name. Varun Jaisinghani. Wait, what? Did I hear her right?

As she was about to show me the picture, my mind raced with memories of the past. Varun Jaisinghani – the name stirred emotions I had tried to bury. The man I loved, who was now married to Tanvi. The revelation sent a shock through me, and I struggled to conceal my surprise. Mom, unaware of the history, showed me Varun's picture with an expectant smile.

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