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Student Council Meeting — The Next Morning
The long mahogany table stretched across the room like a battlefield, each chair occupied by the elite—the heads of clubs, the most disciplined prefects, and committee leads with gleaming badges. At the helm, seated with imperial authority, was Aditya Agnihotri. Sharp eyes. Sharper jawline. Dressed in a charcoal blazer that screamed control, dominance, and a refusal to entertain nonsense.
To his right, standing with her arms folded, was chaos personified.
Prakriti Malhotra.
Secretary. Storm. Headache in shoes.
Her bored expression wasn't just a look—it was a challenge.
She had a plan today.
And that plan was simple: Annihilate his peace.
PRAKRITI MALHOTRA POV
Invisible? No, not today.
Today, I was going to test him.
Push his buttons. Tug at the threads of his meticulously ironed agenda. Let him feel the disorder he tried so hard to cage me in.
If I was going to be stuck in this glorified, iron-pressed prison of a meeting—then he was going to bleed boredom too.
As he launched into some painfully predictable speech about the upcoming fundraising gala, I raised my hand as casually as if I were suggesting pizza toppings.
"Why don't we make it a masquerade?" I said, loud enough to stir the air.
A few brows shot up. Eyes flicked between each other.
Not on the agenda.
Not approved.
Not Aditya-sanctioned.
He didn't even lift his head. "Stick to the agenda, Assistant Malhotra."
But I wasn't done.
I smiled—sweetly, with the venom of a thousand rolled eyes. "Just a suggestion, President Shahab." I even added air quotes. Petty? Maybe. Fun? Absolutely.
Laughter rippled. A few hidden chuckles. One guy actually clapped under the table, the sound barely muffled by his notebook.
That only encouraged me.
I kept going—interrupting his robotic rhythm with absurd budget questions, asking if we should have gold balloons or black roses. I even started scribbling random numbers on the whiteboard behind him. 7 crores? 25K for glitter? Who knew, who cared.
I was poking the lion. And I knew it.
But the lion didn't roar.
Aditya remained seated. Calm. Blank.
He knew I was playing games.
And… something in his eyes said he didn't mind losing this round.
No one knew what to make of it. The council watched him, waiting for the tyrant to snap. To tear me down with his words the way he did with anyone who dared breathe off-agenda.
But he didn't.
He saw through me.
This wasn't rebellion.
This was my way of clawing back control.
And weirdly… he respected it.
Until one of the club heads Shivay chakravati, a self-righteous prefect with way too much gel in his hair, decided to play hero.
"With all due respect, Aditya," he said, adjusting his tie like he was auditioning for a debate competition, "if your secretary can't behave professionally, maybe you should consider replacing her."
Silence.
So loud, I could hear my own pulse.
I kept my face blank, a smirk dancing on my lips—but inside, my chest knotted. Was this it? Would he actually… throw me under the bus?
Aditya leaned forward slowly, his fingers interlacing with quiet power. His voice—low, cold, and cutting—sliced through the tension like glass:
"She's my assistant. Not yours."
Another pause. A breath.
"And until I say she's replaceable—she stays."
My problem.
The possessiveness wasn't lost on me. Neither was the challenge in his eyes.
And for the first time in my life… I couldn't think of a comeback.
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After another exhausting round of tasks and endless meetings.
Aditya's patience was running thin. He had a thousand things to manage, and yet here he was—waiting for Prakriti to bring him the damn coffee he'd asked for.
He'd never been the kind of person to ask for favors, but she was his secretary now. And for some reason, today, his mood demanded coffee. Black. Strong. Just the way he liked it.
He glanced at his watch—she was late, as usual. And it was already bugging him. He was used to things being on time, neat, and predictable. But she was anything but
meanwhile prakriti couldn't believe it. Coffee.
He was serious.
She stormed into the room, the cup of coffee in her hand, trying hard to suppress the urge to snap. Aditya didn't even look up when she walked in. Of course. He never did unless he needed something.
The fact that he'd asked her to bring him coffee after everything—after she'd already done more than enough—made her blood boil.
"Here," she said, shoving the cup in front of him.
He didn't even glance up. " Manners Assistant Malhotra‚ Put it on the desk."
That was it. Something inside her snapped. All that pent-up frustration from being treated like his personal assistant instead of a secretary came to the surface. All the times he'd dismissed her, ignored her, bossed her around as though she were just another cog in his machine.
Without a second thought, she took the cup and, in one fluid motion, hurled it at him—hot coffee splashing all over his shirt and desk.
"There," she spat, her voice shaking with anger. "You wanted coffee? You got it."
For a moment, everything was frozen. The coffee stained his shirt, dripping down in dark rivulets, and the room was deathly silent. His eyes were wide for the first time in what felt like forever—he didn't know whether to be furious or impressed.
Prakriti, on the other hand, stood there, breathing heavily, heart pounding. She knew she'd gone too far, but she didn't care. He needed to know. He needed to understand that she wasn't his servant. She wasn't going to be his puppet.
Aditya stood up slowly, his expression unreadable. He wiped a hand over his face, feeling the hot liquid still seeping through his shirt.
She'd done it. She'd actually thrown the coffee at him. No one—no one—had ever done that before.
And for a split second, something flickered in his chest. Respect?
But then the anger surged.
"You've crossed the line," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll pay for this."
Prakriti met his gaze, unflinching, her anger matching his. "And what are you going to do? Fire me?"
"You think this is a game?" he snapped. "You're lucky I don't have you cleaning this mess up."
Prakriti's lips curled into a grin. "Then you'll have to find someone else to be your damn Assistant. Because I'm done."
For a brief moment, there was a tense silence, both of them standing in the aaftermath Waiting to scattered eerie silence
But no one did
ADITYA AGNIHOTRI POV
The dim glow from the antique lamp cast long shadows across the walls. The clock ticked rhythmically, but time had no meaning here. Not tonight.
I sat on the edge of the leather chair, my blazer long discarded. A crisp white shirt replaced my earlier shirt—elegant, yet oddly out of place on someone who wore power like second skin. The scent of strong black coffee still clung faintly to me, like a reminder of the Afternoon chaos.
But my mind wasn't on the files anymore.
She threw coffee on me.
In front of everyone.
And somehow… I didn't hate it.
I should've. I wanted to. But instead, I found myself rewinding the scene again and again, as if watching it would make sense of this absurd hold she had over me.
Prakriti Malhotra.
The only girl in this entire school who dared to talk back, who rolled her eyes at my title like it was a joke. She didn't just defy authority—she danced with rebellion, wore sarcasm like sindoor, and weaponized her smirk like a blade.
She made me question everything—my rules, my restraint… even my reputation.
I know she's up to something. Of course she is.
That look in her eyes wasn't just mischief—it was war.
And yet… I didn't stop her.
I should've. I could've.
I could've ended it right there. Fired her. Humiliated her the way she did me in front of the entire council. But I didn't.
Because some twisted, dark part of me—
Wanted to see what she does next.
She's chaos.
Unfiltered, unpredictable chaos.
And I've built my world with rules, discipline, and silence.
But lately… she's the only thing that feels real.
The girl who challenges me. Annoys me. Mocks me.
And yet—I wait for her next move like a soldier waits for his enemy's attack.
What is this?
Alert?
Attraction?
Or something far more dangerous?
I stared out of the window as Delhi's night buzzed quietly outside.
My jaw tightened, and a slow, calculated smile tugged at my lips.
"Let her try," I muttered to myself, voice low.
"She wants a fight? Fine."
"Let's do it, Miss Malhotra."
TO BE CONTINUED....
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Aditya's losing control, and Prakriti's just getting started.
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