The chaos was almost deafening.
Cameras flashed like lightning in a thunderstorm, reporters swarmed like bees around a hive, and the air was thick with anticipation. But the moment the black chopper sliced through the clouds and began its descent, the noise began to die — curiosity silencing frenzy.
The blades slowed. Dust swirled. And then… silence.
Click. Click. Click.
The sharp sound of ankle boots striking concrete echoed through the air like a countdown. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
And there she was.
Meher Khan.
Young. Beautiful. Brilliant. Cold as polished steel.
Her presence alone was enough to demand attention — not through noise, but through silence. The kind that forces people to look. The kind that made you question whether you were standing in front of royalty… or a storm.
Zoya rushed toward her, voice trembling with both nerves and awe.
"Welcome back, Meher! How was your experience in Scotland?"
Meher didn't even look at her. "You're my PA now," she said coolly. "So mind what you say. Call me Miss Meher. Unless my memory fails, we weren't exactly close in college."
Zoya's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Right… Sorry, Miss Meher."
A faint smirk curled at Meher's lips. "Now that sounds correct."
She walked ahead, heels clicking like a queen reclaiming her court.
The reporters began to stir again, cameras raised.
"Welcome back, Miss Meher!" one of them called. "We hope Scotland was enlightening. There's a question everyone's been asking — especially your rivals. May I?"
Meher's expression didn't falter. "Scotland was… unforgettable," she said. "But a part of me always stayed here. Made me feel hollow."
She paused, eyes scanning the crowd. "Go ahead. Ask. That's what you're paid for, right?"
The reporter smiled. "Your replies are always striking. The question is: What's your plan now? Will you start your own company, or take over your father's — the one everyone fears?"
She held his gaze, her voice dipped in ice. "I haven't decided. But either choice… will be a challenge for my competitors."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.
She turned on her heel, heels slicing through the silence once again. The swarm followed, but she didn't spare them a glance.
Outside, the black car waited.
The driver quickly stepped out, opening the door. His eyes softened when he saw her.
"You've grown into a fine woman, ma'am. Last I saw you, you were just a little girl."
Meher's voice softened slightly. "Maybe it's the dress. It was a gift… the last one from my elder sister."
For a heartbeat, the mask cracked. A flicker of pain. A glimmer in her eyes.
"Shall we head home?" the driver asked gently. "Your father must be—"
"No," she cut in. "I want coffee. I need five minutes without drama."
She slid into the car, her elegance cold and deliberate, like she'd never allowed herself to feel anything warmer.
---
Scene 2: Brew & Sip Café
The car stopped in front of a small café tucked between the city's polished buildings — "Brew & Sip," written in cursive gold over aged brick.
She stepped out, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Effortlessly poised. Effortlessly untouchable.
Heads turned inside. Every pair of eyes followed her with fascination… except one.
In the corner, a man sat — calm, detached, untouched by her presence.
She didn't care.
At least, that's what she told herself.
"One iced Americano," she said at the counter. "Extra ice."
As she waited, a voice — low, husky, commanding — drifted from behind her. She heard it, but refused to look. Her fingers gripped the counter a little tighter.
"Here you go, ma'am," the barista said, handing her the drink.
She took it with a rare, tired smile. "Thanks."
She turned… and moved toward the nearest empty table — just behind the man who hadn't glanced at her once.
He sipped his drink slowly, unaware or unaffected by the storm she brought with her.
But for the first time in years, Meher Khan felt watched… not by the world, but by fate.
---
{ᴛᴡᴏ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs, ᴏɴᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇsᴛɪɴʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴘᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙʟɪɴᴋ - ᴄʜᴘ 𝟸 ɪs ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ}
Hey lovely readers! 💫
This is my very first story, and honestly, I don't consider myself a great writer—just someone trying to bring her imagination to life through words.
Your feedback means the world to me, so please let me know what you think!
If you liked the chapter, don't forget to vote and comment — it really motivates me to keep writing.
Stay safe, stay healthy, and take care of your heart.
Until next time… Lots of love! ❤️
— Yours, Galaxy's eyes 🪭