Chains made of roses
She walked toward the corner glass cabin the one everyone tiptoed around. There written in bold Ridhvan Malhotra and knock the door
---
Ridhvan Malhotra didn't believe in second chances. Or wrong timings. He believed in control.
So when he looked up from his desk and saw her standing there, clutching a file with unsure hands - he didn't just see a girl.
He saw an opportunity.
"Come in," he said, voice low.
Vidita entered cautiously, placing the file on his desk. "Kabir sir asked to-"
"Speak slower," he interrupted, rising from his chair. "I don't like rushed women."
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
He walked around the desk, eyes scanning her. "I've been watching you."
Her breath caught.
"You walk too confidently for someone who doesn't belong here."
Vidita blinked, confused. "I'm just doing my job-"
"That's where you're wrong," he said coldly, stepping closer. "Girls like you don't belong here. Middle-class, polished face, big eyes-hoping one day to catch the boss's attention. Hoping to skip the line."
Her lips parted in shock. "What?"
He leaned in, too close. "Using Kabir, are you? Smart move. Or are you still exploring?"
And just when his fingers brushed her hair-
SLAP.
The file fell to the ground.
His face whipped sideways. The silence between them turned dangerous.
Her hand trembled, but her eyes burned.
"I don't care who you are," she said, voice shaking. "But if you ever touch me again without permission, I swear I'll hit harder."
She turned and walked out - not fast, not scared - furious.
---
Ridhvan stood frozen.
No one had ever dared.
She wasn't just fire.
She was rebellion wrapped in innocence.
And he would not rest...
Until that fire belonged to him.
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