Chapter 5 : The Storm

The offsite brainstorming session was supposed to be productive.

It turned into a disaster.

Mira already knew it was going to be a long day when she got stuck sitting next to Rohan on the two-hour drive to Lonavala. The agency had booked a cozy resort with glass cottages and scenic hills, thinking fresh air would lead to fresh ideas. What it led to, instead, was tension.

She hated how casually Rohan leaned back in his seat, typing on his phone like this was just another day in his picture-perfect life. Meanwhile, she was juggling sticky notes, a mini whiteboard, and a rising sense of irritation.

“I swear,” she muttered, not even trying to hide it, “if you try to change the pitch structure again, I’m throwing your laptop out the window.”

Rohan looked up calmly. “Relax. I haven’t said anything yet.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

He just smiled, like she was amusing. Like none of this touched him. And somehow, that made her angrier than if he’d fought back.

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By late afternoon, they hadn’t gotten anywhere.

Ideas kept clashing, and so did they. Sameer and the interns tried to mediate, but eventually gave up and left them in one of the empty cottages with a whiteboard and some snacks. Big mistake.

“You never listen,” Mira snapped, standing in front of the board, marker in hand. “You just bulldoze through what you think works.”

“I listen,” Rohan replied, evenly. “I just don’t always agree with you. There’s a difference.”

She turned to him, arms crossed. “Then why are you even here? If you're going to act like I don’t know what I’m doing—”

“I never said that.” He stood too now, tired of playing calm. “You’re brilliant, Mira. But you think every disagreement is an attack. Not everyone’s out to get you.”

That shut her up.

Because deep down — she knew he was right.

Before she could reply, thunder cracked in the distance.

“Perfect,” she muttered. “As if this day wasn’t crap already.”

Rain came fast, heavy and wild, pounding against the glass windows like it had a personal vendetta. Within minutes, the whole hill station was drowning in fog and cold.

Power cut. Lights flickered. The wind howled through the trees.

“Great,” Rohan muttered. “We’re stuck.”

“Of course we are,” Mira sighed. “Stuck with you, naturally.”

He looked at her then — not annoyed, not smirking — just tired. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a lot of time watching me.”

Her breath hitched, just for a second. “I watch everyone I have to work with.”

He stepped closer. “But you fight me. You don’t fight anyone else like this.”

She didn’t move away. She didn’t know why. “You’re different,” she whispered.

The storm outside was deafening now, thunder and wind rolling like waves. But the storm inside? That was quiet. Still. Like they were standing at the edge of something neither of them understood.

“I push you,” Rohan said, voice low, “because you’re the only one who pushes back.”

Mira looked up at him. He was close now. Closer than he’d ever been. And not just physically. His walls weren’t up tonight. Neither were hers.

The tension between them had always been sharp. But now it felt like gravity. Like inevitability.

She looked at his mouth and hated that her heart skipped. Hated that she wanted him to kiss her.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said, honestly.

He swallowed. “Me neither.”

The lights flickered one more time. Then total darkness.

And in that second — the air between them snapped.

His hands found her waist. Hers gripped the front of his shirt. And just like that, after weeks of bickering, they kissed.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, confused, full of frustration and heat.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Mira whispered, “This changes everything.”

Rohan touched her face gently. “Good.”

Outside, the storm raged. Inside, they’d just stepped into one of their own — and neither of them wanted to find the way out.

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