Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Call You Shouldn’t Take

Anaya stared at her buzzing phone like it was about to explode.

Incoming Call: Ishaan Malhotra

Why was he calling? They were literally standing three feet apart.

Was this man addicted to chaos?

She could ignore it. That would be the logical, mature and smart move.

But unfortunately, logic tended to take long naps whenever Ishaan was involved.

And because the universe had a personal vendetta against her, her thumb betrayed her.

It slid across the screen before her brain could catch up.

Connected.

On speaker.

“Really?” she blurted before he could even open his pretty, annoying mouth.

“What is your problem?!”

Silence.

Then—

The whole room turned.

Karan. Simran. Three aunties. A random uncle chewing a samosa mid-bite,frozen like a deer caught in family drama headlights.

Everyone staring like she’d just announced a pregnancy on live TV.

Ishaan, meanwhile, stood perfectly calm next to her. His voice rang out—on the call and in real life—like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“My problem,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m standing next to someone who clearly missed me but won’t admit it.”

Simran gasped. The kind of dramatic gasp you only hear in soap operas with too much eyeliner.

The aunties? Oh, they were having the time of their lives. One even whispered, “Plot twist.”

Anaya wanted to vanish. Just disappear into the decorative curtain next to her. Maybe start a new life as a potted plant on someone’s balcony.

Without thinking, she hit ‘End Call’ so fast her phone nearly flew across the room.

“Smooth,” she hissed under her breath, cheeks burning hotter than Simran’s highlight.

Ishaan just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I’ve always been good with timing.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered, clutching her phone like a weapon.

“Careful,” he whispered, stepping slightly closer, his stupid cologne clouding her thinking, “threats might turn me on.”

Anaya almost choked on her own oxygen. Did he just—?!

No. No. NO.

This man was not real. He was a walking, talking, perfectly-styled hazard to her sanity.

Across the room, Simran’s smirk was growing by the second like she was producing this whole mess as a TV show: “Sisters in Shambles: Coming Soon.”

“Looks like the wedding season’s about to get interesting,” Simran whispered softly near her ear. “Congratulations in advance, sister.”

“I’m going to block you next,” Anaya growled.

But honestly?

It didn’t matter.

The damage was done.

Catastrophically done.

The family group chat had already exploded with love emoji’s, heart-eye GIFs, and at least two messages asking about possible wedding dates. For her. With him.

The only good news? Dinner was finally served. A distraction. Food. An excuse to stuff her face and pretend none of this existed.

But even as she loaded her plate with paneer, she could feel Ishaan’s gaze from across the room.

Smirking. Watching.

Waiting for round two.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

One accidental call. Fifty nosy relatives. And now—one dinner table.

Opposite each other.

Let the silent war begin.

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Author’s Note (a.k.a. I Blame the Universe):

One missed call could’ve saved her whole reputation.