The rooftop venue in Banjara Hills glittered under fairy lights as Hyderabad's skyline painted the perfect backdrop for Anvitha and Ahaan's engagement party. Rishaan Chowdary stood near the bar, his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, nursing a mocktail he didn't really want.
"Bhai, smile a little at least" Veer nudged him, grinning. "Your best friends are getting engaged. Why do you look like you're at a board meeting?"
Rishaan forced a smile. "I'm happy for them, ra. Just... tired."
"Tired or thinking about Priya again?" Veer's tone turned serious.
"Don't." Rishaan's jaw tightened. "That chapter's closed."
It had been six months since Priya walked away—the third woman who'd promised forever but couldn't handle his "too much." Too intense, too possessive, too desperate for the love his own parents never gave him. The cycle was exhausting.
"Samaira's coming tonight," Meher announced, appearing beside them with champagne glasses. "Finally! It's been what, eight months since she was last in Hyderabad?"
"Samaira?" Rishaan frowned. "Who's—"
"yaaaa!" Veer slapped his shoulder. "Anvitha's best friend? The Ferrari engineer? How do you not know this?"
"Oh, that Samaira." Rishaan vaguely remembered Anvitha mentioning someone. "I thought she was a myth. Anvi talks about her, but I've never actually seen her."
"That's because she lives in Maranello, genius," Meher rolled her eyes. "But she's here for two weeks. You'll finally meet the legend."
"Legend?" Rishaan raised an eyebrow.
"Twenty-seven, principal engineer at Ferrari, made them champions, basically runs the technical strategy for the team," Veer listed off. "Also, apparently, emotionally unavailable and married to her career."
"Sounds fun," Rishaan said dryly.
Meher smirked. "Also single. And Anvitha's been trying to set you two up for years."
"Absolutely not." Rishaan shook his head. "I'm done with relationships. Besides, she sounds terrifying."
Samaira Reddy checked her watch as the cab pulled up to the venue—10:47 PM. Three hours late, but considering she'd landed at 6 PM after a twenty-hour journey from Monza, she was doing well.
She smoothed down her white frock —simple, elegant, expensive. Her friend had insisted she follow the dress code. "For that, I have to take extra time in getting ready, not my thing", she'd protested. But here she was, feeling overdressed and underprepared for socialising.
The rooftop was packed. Samaira's trained eyes immediately found Anvitha near the stage, radiant in red, laughing at something Ahaan whispered. Her heart warmed. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Anvitha.
"SAMAIRA!" Anvitha's shriek could probably be heard in Secunderabad.
Rishaan turned to the source of the sound only to find a woman clad in a white frock looking stunning, which made his heart beat a little louder.
Before she could react, she was enveloped in a hug that smelled like vanilla and happiness. "You made it! I thought you'd miss it!"
"Miss your engagement party? Never," Samaira smiled, genuinely. "Sorry, I'm late. The flight—"
"Stop apologising!" Ahaan hugged her next, brotherly and warm. "You're here. That's what matters."
Meher appeared, squealing, and soon Veer joined, and Samaira found herself in the centre of a group hug, the loneliness of the past months in Italy melting slightly.
"Okay, okay, let me breathe," she laughed, pushing them away. "Where's the food? I'm starving."
"First, meet someone," Anvitha grabbed her hand, eyes twinkling mischievously.
On hearing that, Rishaan turned around and pretended he didn't see anything, trying to act cool.
"Yes."
She was dragged across the rooftop to where a tall man stood, back turned, talking to someone on the phone. Even from behind, Samaira could tell he was handsome—broad shoulders, good posture, expensive watch.
"Rishaan!" Anvitha called.
He turned, and Samaira's breath caught for just a second. Sharp jawline, warm brown eyes, and a smile that was probably illegal in several countries. He looked like trouble—the kind of trouble she'd spent two years avoiding.
"This is Samaira," Anvitha beamed. "Samaira, Rishaan. Finally, you two meet!"
"Hi," Rishaan extended his hand, and his smile was genuine, reaching his eyes. Golden retriever energy, Anvitha had called him once. Samaira could see it. "The famous Ferrari engineer. I've heard a lot about you."
"And I've heard nothing about you," Samaira said, shaking his hand briefly. Firm grip, warm. She pulled away quickly. "Which is surprising considering how much Anvitha gossips."
Rishaan laughed—a deep, infectious sound. "She probably didn't want to scare you with my tragic dating history."
"Three in two years, right?" The words slipped out before Samaira could stop them.
His eyebrows shot up. "So you have heard about me."
Damn. "Anvitha mentions things."
"Things," he repeated, amused. "Should I be worried about what 'things' exactly?"
"Probably," Samaira said coolly, then turned to Anvitha. "Food?"
"Buffet's that way," Anvitha pointed, clearly disappointed the introduction hadn't sparked immediate romance.
As Samaira walked away, she felt his eyes on her back. She didn't turn around.
"Well?" Veer appeared beside Rishaan. "What do you think?"
"Beautiful," Rishaan admitted, watching her disappear into the crowd. "Also, she definitely hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," Meher laughed. "She's just... guarded. The ex really did a number on her."
"The family compatibility thing?"
"Yeah. They dated for four years, were planning marriage, then his family said no. Different caste, their business reputation, blah blah. He chose his family. They ended it 'amicably," Meher made air quotes. "But Samaira hasn't dated since. Two years."
Rishaan watched Samaira at the buffet, efficiently loading her plate, politely declining conversations. Everything about her screamed independence, self-sufficiency, walls built high and strong.
He should walk away. He was done with relationships, done with wanting too much, done with not being enough.
But there was something about the way she held herself—like she was carrying the weight of the world but refusing to let anyone see it crack—that pulled at something in his chest.
"I'm not interested," he told Veer firmly.
"Sure," Veer grinned. "That's why you haven't stopped staring at her for five minutes."
Rishaan dragged his eyes away. "Shut up."
Samaira found a quiet corner of the rooftop, away from the crowd, and checked her phone. Three messages from her team in Maranello—race simulations for the next Grand Prix. She started typing a response.
"Hiding already?"
She looked up. Rishaan stood there, two plates in hand, offering one to her. "Saw you loading your plate like you were planning a strategic attack. Figured you needed backup."
Despite herself, Samaira smiled. "Is that how you charm people? Food delivery?"
"Is it working?"
"No."
"Honest. I like that." He sat down beside her—not too close, respectful of space. "So, Ferrari. That's incredible. How does someone from Andhra Pradesh end up in Italy building race cars?"
"Scholarship to Politecnico di Milano, internship at Ferrari, and a lot of sleepless nights," Samaira said, taking a bite of biryani. "Also, luck."
"I doubt luck had much to do with it."
"And you? Handling your parents' business but also running a startup? Ambitious."
His smile faded slightly. "The business is on bail. The startup is... mine. Something that's actually mine."
There was vulnerability in those words that Samaira recognised—the need to be more than what was expected, to carve your own identity. She understood that more than he knew.
"What kind of startup?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Tech consulting for manufacturing. Helping traditional businesses modernise without losing their essence." He paused. "It's small now, but it's growing."
"That's smart. India needs that."
"Thanks." He studied her face. "You don't like parties, do you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"You've positioned yourself where you can see everyone, but they have to make an effort to see you. Classic introvert strategy."
Samaira laughed, surprised. "Observant."
"I pay attention to people." His voice softened. "Especially interesting ones."
Warning bells rang in Samaira's head. This was how it started—the charm, the attention, the making-you-feel-seen. Then the expectations, the compromises, the inevitable disappointment.
She stood abruptly. "I should go congratulate the couple properly. Nice meeting you, Rishaan."
"Samaira—"
But she was already walking away, leaving him sitting alone with two half-empty plates and a confused expression.
Veer appeared, laughing. "Struck out already? That might be a record."
Rishaan watched her rejoin their friends, her smile back in place like armour. "I wasn't trying to strike anything."
"Sure looked like it."
"She's... complicated."
"And you're a glutton for punishment," Veer shook his head. "Perfect match."
Rishaan didn't respond. Across the rooftop, Samaira laughed at something Ahaan said, her whole face lighting up. For just a moment, the walls came down, and he saw what was underneath—warmth, loyalty, and a loneliness that mirrored his own.
He was in trouble.
So much trouble.
Welcome to Rishaan and Samaira's story! This is just the beginning of their journey from strangers to soulmates.
Word Count - 1067
Check out Instagram for updates, spoilers and aesthetics.
Write a comment ...