"Well, if the clapping was an Olympic sport, you'd have gold, no contest," Aditya remarked dryly, sliding smoothly to stand beside Haya.

She shot him a triumphant grin, puffing her chest out a little. "Told you, I’m a maestro of subtle sabotage." Her voice dipped into a whisper. "So, where’s the cake?"

He blinked, genuinely puzzled. "Cake?"

"For the birthday, duh." She nudged him playfully with her finger, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"No cake," he said, shaking his head. "Bhai hates the idea of a big bash with a bunch of strangers he barely knows."

"I brought a gift for the man I barely know," she hissed back, poking him sharply in the chest.

He frowned, pulling the invitation from his pocket and scanning it. "Invitation never said it’s a birthday party."

"Because you’re an idiot, that's why." She jabbed him again. "Honestly, you’re the most stubborn, infuriating man I’ve ever known—"

Her words caught in her throat as a sudden coldness swept over her. Her eyes locked briefly with Naina’s across the room before darting down to the empty wine glass slipping from her fingers.

"You did not just—"

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there," Naina’s apologies tumbled out, her eyes wide with genuine surprise.

Aditya’s gaze sharpened as he stepped closer, voice low and suspicious. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah, we met during your speech," Haya answered, her tone calm but guarded.

His jaw tightened as he muttered under his breath, "Just wait, I’m going to kill you slowly."

Before things could escalate, Haya addressed Naina with a polite smile. "Naina, could you keep Adi company? I need to fix my dress." She shot Aditya a conspiratorial wink, making exaggerated kissy faces with her hands.

Naina cleared her throat nervously. "Sure, I’ll leave you two to it..."

Aditya quickly shifted gears. "So, how’s the party?"

"Honestly, it’s great. My first business party," Naina admitted, relaxing slightly.

He raised a brow. "And work? Enjoying the company?" He signaled a waiter for a fresh glass.

She leaned in, enthused. "It’s perfect! I always dreamed of this kind of workplace. Our manager? So different from what I expected—polite, commanding without being overbearing. Have you noticed how she organizes everything?"

Her voice tapered off as Aditya replaced her empty wine glass with a refill, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"Keep going," he challenged, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

She flushed, closing her eyes. "Guess I’m rambling."

"No, I like listening."

She sighed. "I should check on Haya. Sorry about earlier."

He waved it off, distracted by the catering table. "Everyone makes mistakes."

Suddenly, a booming voice sliced through the chatter. "Time for the main event!"

Aditya groaned under his breath, rubbing his temples. "If the drama kills me first, I won’t complain." He scanned the room for his brother but found the space curiously empty.

"Isn’t that Mr. Mehta’s daughter?" Naina asked, nodding discreetly toward a poised young woman nearby.

"Unfortunately," he muttered.

Before Naina could announce cake-cutting, the microphone was wrested away, and whispers rippled through the crowd.

Shaking his head, Aditya strode off to quell the brewing spectacle.

Meanwhile, Haya muttered quietly, "Stupid wine, stupid party," as she slipped out the door through an unplanned exit.

Leaning against a parked car, she exhaled deeply, letting the night’s chill soothe her flushed skin while her dress clung damply against her legs.

Her eyes snapped open at the silhouette looming on the shadowed side of the vehicle. A sharp pulse of irritation surged through her as her heels clicked decisively across the pavement.

"Seriously? Are you trying to kill me?" she snapped, grabbing the cigarette from the stranger’s fingers and crushing it beneath her heel.

>"Excuse me?" the man replied, amusement flickering in his voice.

"Do you even hear yourself? Smoking here? It's disgusting, harmful. I don’t care about you, but at least don’t pollute the air I breathe. Do it at home. I hate smokers."

He chuckled softly. "You’re quite something."

She blinked, caught off guard. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Typical. People like you always dodge confrontation." She rolled her eyes, stepping off the car.

He straightened, emerging from the darkness. "I don’t get why you care about people like me. But I don’t judge you girls for crying to Taylor Swift or burying yourself in books. Everybody’s got their coping mechanisms."

Her breath caught as she looked up at his tall frame, a flicker of realization softening her irritation. "So this slow death you’re choosing is your way of dealing?"

She despised smoking, especially in public. The recklessness drove her crazy.

"Are you worried about me now?" he asked, pacing slowly around the car.

"I don’t even know you," she retorted sharply.

"Good point," he nodded with a smirk.

"You know, the perfect image I had of you? Way better than this. Much better." She gave the car a sharp kick before storming off.

A sudden jolt shot up her foot, but she refused to show any weakness by limping or slowing down.

"Hey, you left this!" His voice called after her, holding up the clutch purse she'd forgotten on the car roof.

"Keep it!" she snapped over her shoulder.

He chuckled quietly, setting the clutch down, only for it to tumble and spill its contents across the asphalt.

He bent to retrieve a lipstick and some tissues, stuffing them back inside, then pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box with a birthday tag addressed to Abheer.

"Happy birthday to me, I guess," he murmured, slipping the gift into his pocket and tossing the bag back into the car.

With a last glance at the fading party lights, he turned and headed toward his apartment, leaving the chaos behind him as the night deepened into silence.