Page 60 of Okay Boss
“The truth.”
Vikram pressed record. The red light blinked on.
He held up the production schedule, explained the blocking rehearsal, called Farhan for confirmation. Professional. Calm. Exactly as scripted.
Then his hands came together in his lap. They weren’t quite steady.
“What’s happening to Divya and her family is not right. She is a professional doing her job. A hardworking assistant who deserves respect, not gossip. And definitely not the bullying her family is facing.”
The tremor worsened. He gripped his hands together tighter.
“I take full responsibility for the confusion. And I apologize sincerely to Divya for the distress this has brought to her and her family. She deserves better.”
He reached forward. The camera stopped.
“That last part was too raw,” Rahul said quietly. “It doesn’t read as a boss concerned for an employee. At least let me edit it.”
“Too late.” Vikram’s finger tapped his phone three times. “It’s uploaded.”
By evening, the video had three million views. It backfired completely.
“Nobody gets this upset about an intern,” declared a popular influencer. “This is a man in love!”
Fans spliced his words with the sindoor photo. Added sad songs. Dug up old interviews where he’d talked about wanting “someone real.”
#VikramLovesDivya topped Twitter.
One video stopped his breath: his mansion on one side, Divya’s building with reporters swarming on the other.
Caption: “Different worlds. Same sindoor.”
He’d tried to protect her. He’d made everything worse.
His thumb hovered over her contact. Still switched off. Still unreachable. Still drowning in a storm he’d created.
That Evening - Khanna Sadan
The dining table shone in soft light. Five crystal glasses stood empty next to five plates of untouched food.
No one spoke.
Vikram’s finger ran along the edge of his plate, small, nervous motion betraying turmoil inside.
Across from him, Raghav sat straight-backed, sharp eyes weighing solutions.
Harshit held the head of the table, fingers pressed together like he was leading a meeting instead of facing a family crisis.
Kavita observed her younger son, noticing the slightest twitch in his jaw when his phone buzzed.
Ishani sat beside Raghav, still and quiet.
“The clarifications have failed.” Raghav broke the silence, voice carrying the same tone he used for quarterly reports. “They won’t work. Not now, not tomorrow, not next week.”
No one disagreed.
“The image was too good. Too convincing. The public has decided what they saw, and no statement will change their minds.”
Vikram’s finger stopped. “My video.”
