CHAPTER 23
ISHIKA
This is an interior designer’s biggest nightmare.
I am not exaggerating. I am not being dramatic. This—this right here—is the kind of thing that makes you question your career choices, your sanity, and every decision that led you to this exact moment.
Jayesh had ordered a statement chandelier for the reception area.
And not just any chandelier—no, this one was custom made, imported, curated like it belonged in some luxury magazine spread.
It was the kind of piece that doesn’t just sit in a space, it owns it.
It pulls everything together. It becomes the first thing people notice when they walk in.
And I didn’t have it in me to change it. Because God, it was beautiful.
It fit the design perfectly. The scale, the finish, the way it would catch light—it was everything I would’ve picked myself if I had been given the choice from scratch. So I let it stay. I worked around it. Built the entire reception concept with that chandelier as the anchor.
And now—now that same chandelier lies in front of me in what looks like ten thousand pieces scattered across the floor. Glass. Metal. Wiring. Everything ruined.
I stare at it for a long moment, my brain refusing to process what my eyes are clearly seeing. There’s a ringing in my ears, you know the one that comes when you’re too angry to speak immediately.
This is great.
This is exactly what I want right now.
I slowly lift my gaze from the disaster on the floor to Kamlesh, the contractor, who looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying. His hands are trembling slightly, his shoulders hunched like he’s already bracing for impact.
And I lose it.
“What did I tell you?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend but not nearly as sharp as it could be. “Handle it carefully. Carefully.” I emphasize, “Was that a suggestion? A joke? Did it sound optional to you?”
He stammers something I don’t even register. I pace once, then again, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Do you understand how long this took to source? Do you understand how expensive this is?”
“I—I’m sorry, madam,” he says, voice shaking.
“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” I shoot back immediately.
I don’t even realize how long I’ve been going on until my throat starts to hurt. The anger isn’t just about the chandelier. It’s about everything. The delay it’s going to cause. The extra coordination. The pressure of timelines.
And—The fact that I am on my period. Which means my emotions are sitting right at the surface, raw and unfiltered, ready to explode at the smallest trigger.
This is not the day for this.
“Oh, my beautiful chandelier,” I mutter under my breath, staring at the broken pieces again like maybe if I look hard enough, they’ll fix themselves.
“What’s happening here?” His voice booms. Of course.
I close my eyes for half a second. I don’t need this too. I don’t turn around, but I can feel him. That stupid, warm presence right behind me. It’s distracting. It’s grounding. It’s irritating.
Everyone else senses it too. The labourers scatter almost instantly, suddenly very busy with anything that isn’t this conversation.
Now it’s just me, Kamlesh, and Aryan.
Perfect.
“The chandelier for the main area is in pieces,” I say through gritted teeth, still not turning around.
I know this is common. Things break. Mistakes happen. This is part of the job. But right now, everything feels amplified. The frustration. The heat. The way his presence seems to make everything sharper.
I finally turn. He’s watching me with that familiar concern in his eyes. Brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together like he’s trying to figure out how to approach me without making it worse.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I ignore the question completely. “Don’t worry,” I say quickly, forcing my tone into something more controlled. “I will contact the supplier and get another one. It will all work out. I promise.”
It sounds weak. Even to me. He doesn’t look convinced either. “Are you okay, Sunshine?” he asks again, softer this time. “You look a bit pale.”
“I am fine,” I snap. The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
His face falls slightly. Not dramatically.
Just enough that I notice. And I hate that I notice.
Because he has always been kind to me. Annoying, yes.
Insufferable at times, definitely. But kind.
And I sound…bratty. “I have to get on it, Aryan,” I say again, softer this time, trying to fix it without actually apologizing.
He nods. “Please clean this up,” I tell Kamlesh, turning back to the mess on the floor. He nods rapidly, apologizing again as he starts instructing his workers. I don’t wait. I walk back to my office, my steps faster than usual. I need to apologize to Kamlesh too, I was too harsh.
The moment I shut the door behind me, the noise dulls. The chaos outside fades just enough for me to breathe. I drop into my chair and grab my phone.
First call—Jayesh. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey,” I start, pressing my fingers against my temple. “So you remember the stunning chandelier you ordered?”
There’s a pause. Then a sigh. “It’s broken, isn’t it?”
I close my eyes. “Yeah.”
Another sigh. I can practically see him shaking his head on the other end. “It’s okay,” he says after a moment. “Let me talk to the supplier. I’ll text you what they say.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, relief washing over me.
We hang up.
I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling for a second.
Breathe. Just breathe. It’s fixable. Everything is fixable. There’s a knock on the door. Before I can respond, it opens.
Of course.
“Aryan,” I say flatly, looking up at him. “Do you know,” I add, narrowing my eyes slightly, “you are a very nosy boss?”
He smiles like that’s a compliment. “I’ve been called worse,” he says, stepping inside.
I roll my eyes and lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “For someone who claims he understands nothing about design, you take a lot of interest.”
He doesn’t reply. Just watches. I huff. “You shouldn’t be here, Mr. Khanna.”
“Shouldn’t doesn’t mean couldn’t, Ms. Vyas,” he replies easily. “I want to be here.” He has the audacity to wink at me.
I roll my eyes again. “Why?” I ask. “Don’t you have anything to do?”
He laughs softly. “I am doing something.”
“Oh really?”
“I’m watching you work,” he says, completely serious. “It’s fun.”
I stare at him. Then I force a smile. “You are distracting me, Golden boy.”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to take the hint.
He doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t. “Hmmm,” he hums, a smirk forming.
“I’m distracting you, huh?” He walks toward me slowly, placing both his hands on the desk and leaning forward slightly.
My breath catches for half a second. “Am I that good looking, Sunshine?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement.
I let out a humorless chuckle. “I always fail to understand you.”
His smirk widens. “You want to understand me now?”
“Wow,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I have never met anyone so self-absorbed.”
Before he can reply, my phone dings. I glance down.
Jayesh: You can pick up the chandelier on Sunday. They won’t deliver it. Ishika, please see it doesn’t break this time. It’s really expensive. You’ll get 20% off though.
I exhale slowly, relief loosening something in my chest. I type back a quick Thank you and look up at Aryan. “I’ll pick up the chandelier this Sunday,” I tell him. “So timelines won’t be affected.”
He hums, nodding once. Then his eyes narrow slightly. “You will pick it up…all by yourself?”
I nod. He hums again, thinking. “I’ll accompany you.”
“No—”
“As a client,” he adds quickly, straightening up and shifting into a mock serious tone. “I don’t want further damages, Ms. Vyas.”
I stare at him.
He’s mimicking himself. And it’s so ridiculous I almost laugh. “And,” he adds more casually, “I would love to spend time with my friend.”
I shake my head. “Hey,” he gasps dramatically. “You do know friends meet up on weekends, right?”
I sigh. There is no winning with him. “Fine,” I say finally. “We’ll go together.”
His face lights up. “Great!”
“What time?” he asks.
“9 AM,” I reply. “But it might take the whole day. The warehouse is at the outskirts.”
“That’s even better,” he says immediately. “Forced proximity with Ms. Ishika Vyas because there’s no other way to spend time with you.”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out. “Aryan, please leave,” I say, my tone final.
“You can’t throw me out,” he shrugs. “I own this place.”
I stand up and mirror his stance. “Last chance, Golden boy,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “Leave.”
He raises both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”
He turns and starts walking toward the door. My eyes follow him for a second longer than necessary. Broad shoulders. Confident stride.
I immediately look away. What is wrong with me? “By the way, Ishika,” he says suddenly, turning back.
I look up, annoyed. “You look pretty.”
I blink. What? He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. I slump back into my chair. “Are you going to annoy me every day?”
He smirks. “You finally caught up, Sunshine,” he says. “That’s the plan.” He winks again and then he’s gone. I stare at the door for a long second before dropping my head back against the chair. What have I signed myself up for.