Jayesh had ordered a statement chandelier for the reception area. And not just any chandelier—no, this one was custom made, imported, curated like it belonged in some luxury magazine spread. It was the kind of piece that doesn’t just sit in a space, itownsit. It pulls everything together. It becomes the first thing people notice when they walk in.
And I didn’t have it in me to change it. Because God, itwasbeautiful.
It fit the design perfectly. The scale, the finish, the way it would catch light—it was everything I would’ve picked myself if I had been given the choice from scratch. So I let it stay. I worked around it. Built the entire reception concept with that chandelier as the anchor.
And now—now that same chandelier lies in front of me in what looks like ten thousand pieces scattered across the floor. Glass. Metal. Wiring. Everything ruined.
I stare at it for a long moment, my brain refusing to process what my eyes are clearly seeing. There’s a ringing in my ears, you know the one that comes when you’re too angry to speak immediately.
This is great.
This is exactly what I want right now.
I slowly lift my gaze from the disaster on the floor to Kamlesh, the contractor, who looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying. His hands are trembling slightly, his shoulders hunched like he’s already bracing for impact.
And I lose it.
“What did I tell you?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend but not nearly as sharp as it could be. “Handle it carefully. Carefully.” I emphasize, “Was that a suggestion? A joke? Did it sound optional to you?”
He stammers something I don’t even register. I pace once, then again, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Do you understand how long this took to source? Do you understand how expensive this is?”
“I—I’m sorry, madam,” he says, voice shaking.
“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” I shoot back immediately.
I don’t even realize how long I’ve been going on until my throat starts to hurt. The anger isn’t just about the chandelier.It’s about everything. The delay it’s going to cause. The extra coordination. The pressure of timelines.
And—The fact that I am on my period. Which means my emotions are sitting right at the surface, raw and unfiltered, ready to explode at the smallest trigger.
This is not the day for this.
“Oh, my beautiful chandelier,” I mutter under my breath, staring at the broken pieces again like maybe if I look hard enough, they’ll fix themselves.
“What’s happening here?” His voice booms. Of course.
I close my eyes for half a second. I don’t need this too. I don’t turn around, but I can feel him. That stupid, warm presence right behind me. It’s distracting. It’s grounding. It’s irritating.
Everyone else senses it too. The labourers scatter almost instantly, suddenly very busy with anything that isn’t this conversation.
Now it’s just me, Kamlesh, and Aryan.
Perfect.
“The chandelier for the main area is in pieces,” I say through gritted teeth, still not turning around.
I know this is common. Things break. Mistakes happen. This is part of the job. But right now, everything feels amplified. The frustration. The heat. The way his presence seems to make everything sharper.
I finally turn. He’s watching me with that familiar concern in his eyes. Brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together likehe’s trying to figure out how to approach me without making it worse.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I ignore the question completely. “Don’t worry,” I say quickly, forcing my tone into something more controlled. “I will contact the supplier and get another one. It will all work out. I promise.”
It sounds weak. Even to me. He doesn’t look convinced either. “Are you okay, Sunshine?” he asks again, softer this time. “You look a bit pale.”
“I am fine,” I snap. The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. His face falls slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough that I notice. And I hate that I notice. Because he has always been kind to me. Annoying, yes. Insufferable at times, definitely. But kind. And I sound…bratty. “I have to get on it, Aryan,” I say again, softer this time, trying to fix it without actually apologizing.
He nods. “Please clean this up,” I tell Kamlesh, turning back to the mess on the floor. He nods rapidly, apologizing again as he starts instructing his workers. I don’t wait. I walk back to my office, my steps faster than usual. I need to apologize to Kamlesh too, I was too harsh.
