The golden afternoon sun poured through the tall glass windows of the TENNO headquarters' conference room, painting the marble floor with streaks of warmth. Smiksha, dressed in a sleek beige suit and oversized black shades, stepped inside the boardroom with her usual silent elegance. Dora, ever alert and prepared, trailed behind her, carrying the updated contract files.
It was her empire — built in silence, ruled with vision, and hidden behind the mask of a singer the world adored: Twinkle. But here, in her office, she was Smiksha — the woman behind TENNO.
Across the room, already seated and waiting, was a presence that she couldn’t ignore.
Ali Burnwal.
The name alone carried weight. He was the enigmatic president of Dragon Corporation, known for his ruthless business sense, silent authority, and the mystery that surrounded his youth. No one knew how a boy so young could run a company so influential. But the room changed when he entered it — and today, she could feel it more than ever.
Smiksha adjusted her shades as she took the seat across from him. “Mr. Ali Burnwal,” she said coolly, “you’re early.”
Ali didn’t smile, but his voice was calm. “I like to study the battlefield before the war begins.”
Smiksha tilted her head slightly, amused. “Interesting. I prefer creating the battlefield itself.”
Their secretaries exchanged glances. The tension wasn’t hostile — it was electric.
As the meeting began, Dora handed out the updated contracts while John, Ali’s secretary, opened the laptop presentation. They talked business — shares, event rights, global tours, collaboration terms — but beneath the words, something deeper was unraveling.
Every now and then, their eyes met — a second too long, a blink too slow.
Ali watched the way she spoke — confident yet subtle, powerful yet polite. Smiksha noticed his stillness, the way he listened, calculated, almost like he could hear what wasn’t being said.
Inside, something stirred — uninvited and unplanned.
Just as Smiksha began to speak about the brand positioning, the door creaked open.
John entered hesitantly. “Sir… sorry for the interruption. But there’s a situation.”
Ali raised a brow. “What kind of situation?”
John hesitated. “Miss Riya Wilson is here. She’s asking for you. She insists it’s urgent.”
At that name, Smiksha’s fingers momentarily froze on the folder. She didn’t look up. But Dora noticed it.
Ali stood, sighing lightly. “Excuse me, Miss Smiksha. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” she said, her voice emotionless, eyes still on the file.
—
Outside the boardroom, the silence was shattered by high heels and perfume.
Riya Wilson — tall, glamorous, with ocean-blue eyes and flawless makeup — greeted Ali with open arms.
“Ali,” she beamed, walking up to him and grabbing his hand. “I missed you! Kya tumhe main nahi mil sakti?”
Ali gently but firmly pulled his hand away. “Riya, I’m in a meeting. Agar koi zaruri baat nahi hai, toh please… not now.”
Riya pouted. “You used to never say that. Tumhare bina sab kuch blank sa lagta hai.” She reached again for his arm.
Ali sighed. “Riya, don’t make this difficult.”
—
Inside, Smiksha tapped the pen in her hand, her ears catching distant echoes of their voices. She didn’t react, but a certain coldness spread across her chest. It wasn’t jealousy. She had no right to feel that. But something about that woman… about her sudden arrival… it bothered her.
“Dora,” she said quietly, “agla show kab hai?”
Dora checked the schedule. “Aaj hi. Sam Auditorium. 7 baje.”
Smiksha stood, adjusting her jacket. “Toh chalo. Mujhe aur bhi kaam hain. Practice bhi karni hai.”
She picked up her folder, pushed her chair in, and began to walk toward the door.
Just then, Ali re-entered. His eyes searched the room and landed on her.
“Miss Smiksha,” he called. “Aap jaa rahi hain? Meeting abhi khatam nahi hui.”
She didn’t stop walking. “Mujhe nahi lagta tumhare paas waqt hai bhi.” Her voice was icy, professional, distant. “Aur frankly, mujhe yeh meeting complete lagti hai.”
Ali took a step forward. “Par contract—”
“Dora dekh legi,” Smiksha said without looking back.
As the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside. Ali stood frozen, unable to speak.
Beside him, Riya smiled sweetly. “Tumhare paas waqt hi nahi rehta ab, Ali.”
But Ali wasn’t listening to her anymore.
His mind had followed Smiksha.
The girl who had walked in as a businesswoman… but walked out with a piece of his silence.
—
[To be continued…]
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