Arjun's Pov
I swear, every time I thought I had a shot at talking to her, something—or rather, someone—would get in the way. And not just anyone, but *them*—the swarm. You know, the kind of people who show up to a club like they're auditioning for some cheesy romance movie.
Ravi and Vikram were already making their rounds, trying to talk to random people who I was pretty sure were just as confused about what they were doing there as they were. Vikram was deep in some absurd conversation with a guy about starting a podcast on obscure 80s bands, using words like "authentic" and "synthwave," and I was pretty sure I lost 10 IQ points just by listening to them. Meanwhile, Ravi was busy arguing with the bartender about whether pineapple *deserved* to be on pizza. *Seriously*, Ravi? What kind of philosophical debate is this?
And me? Well, I was stuck in a corner, watching the *mystery girl* from across the room, ready to make my move—except, of course, I was about to be interrupted.
*Enter Natasha.*
Ah, Natasha. The daughter of the most influential business tycoon in town, and a woman who, according to my parents, was apparently the "ideal match." I'm not entirely sure how they made that decision, but every time they mentioned her, they always used the word "perfect" like they were reading a brochure for a luxury spa. Classy. Beautiful. Smart. Could balance a budget and recite Shakespeare while wearing high heels. I mean, she practically screamed "wife material" in bold letters, and my parents *loved* her for it.
But me? Not so much.
You know that moment when you realize you've accidentally opened a door to a room you absolutely do not want to be in? That was me when I saw Natasha heading my way, her heels clicking against the floor like some kind of dramatic soundtrack. And, of course, she was *perfect*—flawlessly dressed, with her hair cascading down her back in that effortless way that only *classy* people could pull off. Her smile? Well, it could probably launch a thousand ships. Or, at least, make the rest of the room think they'd been personally insulted by her radiance.
I wanted to be anywhere else. Honestly, if there was a hole in the floor that could just swallow me up, I would've crawled into it like a groundhog and never looked back.
She approached me like she had all the time in the world, her eyes glinting with that "I'm about to get what I want" look. And why wouldn't she? She had a whole parade of *people* trailing behind her, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of her perfect life.
"Arjun, darling," she said, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but I kept it together. Barely. "You're looking absolutely dashing tonight."
I smiled awkwardly, wondering if she'd notice that I was about 30% more interested in the *mystery girl* right now. But of course, Natasha was on a mission.
"Thanks, Natasha," I said, trying to sound like a normal human being while not sounding like I was already planning my escape route. "You look… stunning as usual."
I immediately regretted saying it. It sounded like something out of a poorly written romance novel. Natasha, of course, didn't seem to mind. She just smiled, a perfect, polished grin, and tilted her head slightly.
"You're so sweet," she purred, stepping closer to me, like she was trying to claim her spot in my personal space. "You know, my parents have been asking about you. They really like you. They think we'd make a great couple, don't you?"
Great. Fantastic. Here we go. The "our families want us to marry" speech. *Again.*
I tried not to make a face. "Oh yeah, *great* idea," I said with about as much enthusiasm as a cat being dunked in water. "Tell them I'll think about it."
She didn't take the hint, though, of course. Natasha was like a polished, high-end saleswoman. She was *never* going to take no for an answer.
"Well, I think *we* would make a great couple," she said with that all-knowing smile. "I mean, think about it—two people with the same goals, same lifestyle. We'd complement each other perfectly, Arjun."
Inside, I was already cringing. If I wasn't trapped in this conversation, I would've started running to the nearest exit. Natasha was nice, don't get me wrong, but I just wasn't feeling it. She was like the perfect, shiny apple on a shelf... that I was absolutely not going to bite into.
Before I could think of a way to politely escape without getting caught in some "long-term commitment" speech, I caught a glimpse of the *mystery girl* again. There she was—her red gown practically lighting up the room like she had her own spotlight. I swear, the club could've been on fire, and I'd still be staring at her. I could feel my heart rate pick up again, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.
But then—*ugh*—of course, Natasha noticed my shift in attention. *Of course* she did. She followed my gaze and, just for a second, there was that look—*the look* of "I'm not stupid, Arjun."
She turned to me, her tone suddenly much more serious. "You're not seriously looking at *her*, are you?"
I mentally cursed the universe. *Great timing, Arjun*. But before I could even form a reply, Natasha was already giving me that "I'm-a-know-it-all" speech about how "those types" never last and how "she doesn't have the right connections." Like *she* was the expert on relationships.
But as Natasha continued her little monologue, I caught something else across the room. A guy—*a creep*—was clearly trying to get a girl to drink more than she should. I watched as he leaned in way too close, whispering something that made my stomach twist. That was my cue.
I was about to march over to do the right thing when—*out of nowhere*—the *mystery girl* was already there. And I swear, she moved with the kind of power that made me feel like the world was in her hands. She was going to take care of this. She didn't need anyone else to do it for her.
And then—*bam*—she slapped the guy across the face so hard, I heard it over the club music.
The guy stood there, completely frozen, staring at her as if he couldn't believe she'd actually *done that*. But the *mystery girl* was calm as ever. "Not today, buddy," she said, her voice so cold it made the whole room pause.
The guy sputtered and tried to say something, but she didn't give him the chance. "Go back to wherever you came from," she added, dismissing him with the flick of her hand, like he wasn't even worth her time.
The girl she'd saved, still a little shaken, was now standing beside her, and the *mystery girl* gave her a gentle smile before turning back to the crowd, her eyes scanning for any other potential troublemakers.
I couldn't breathe. *This* was the woman I was in love with.
*Wait, did I just say Love?* No. No, no, it can't be love, right? Just... obsession. Right?
But just as I was recovering from that jaw-dropping moment, Natasha's voice broke through again. She glanced over at something across the room, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, look—someone's here," she said. Before I could even process what she meant, Natasha was already slipping away, heading toward a group of people I didn't recognize.
I turned back to where the *mystery girl* had been standing, but she was gone. Just like that. Vanished into thin air. Like she had never been there at all.
I blinked, looking around frantically. But she was nowhere to be found. As if the universe had played one final trick on me.
And just like that, the night was back to being the *same* chaotic mess—except now, the mystery of the *mystery girl* was consuming every single thought I had.