The South Mumbai Gala was loud, crowded, and full of people trying to look important. Mihika didn't care about any of that. She was standing in the corner, staring at an old clay statue, frustrated.
"The artist didn't even use the right heat" she whispered to herself. "It's going to crack."
"You know, most people come here for the free drinks, not to lecture the statues." a smooth voice said from behind her.
Mihika turned. Standing there was a man in a sharp, dark suit. He looked expensive, dangerous, and completely out of place. He was holding a champagne glass, and his eyes were locked on her with a lazy, confident smile.
"It's not a statue, it's a failure" Mihika replied, her voice cool. "And you're standing in my light."
The man stepped closer, ignoring her hint. The air between them suddenly felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. "I'm Dhruv" he said, his voice dropping to a low, quiet hum. "And I don't think you're looking at the statue anymore."
Mihika felt her heart jump, but she didn't look away. "You're arrogant, Mr. Dhruv"
"And you're brilliant, Mihika" he countered, his smirk widening. He leaned in, whispering, "Remember this moment. Because the next time we see each other, the lights will be off, the world will be chasing us, and you won't want to be anywhere else but by my side."
Before she could say a word, he turned and vanished into the crowd.
Mihika stood frozen, her heart racing. She didn't know it yet, but her quiet life was officially over.
The game had just begun.
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