Page 24 of Okay Boss
“Tomorrow’s off,” he said.
A soft shuffle of papers on her end. “Off? Is the shoot canceled?”
“No shoot. My brother’s engagement is being fixed tomorrow. I need to be with my family.”
A brief pause.
“Oh.” Her tone shifted, warmer. “That’s wonderful news. Congratulations to Mr. Raghav.”
He almost smiled. “I’ll tell him. We’ll resume the day after.”
“Okay, Boss.”
He ended the call before it turned into a conversation.
Across the city, Divya didn’t immediately return to her thesis. Instead, she opened her laptop. Three emails to the productionhouse. Costume fitting moved to Friday. Message to the stunt coordinator about the revised timeline. Calendar adjusted.
Only after every slot was reorganized did she shut the screen.
In his room, Vikram dropped his phone onto the bed and lay back. The silence felt heavier than usual. He had just told an intern something private. He could have just said,No shoot tomorrow.
That would have been enough.
Why explain?
A Khanna engagement was not small news. It would be covered. Analyzed. Speculated upon. Information like that usually passed through his publicist before reaching anyone.
With Divya, he had said it without thinking.
He told himself it was practicality. She had signed the NDA. In three months, she had not leaked a single photograph. Not one careless comment. Not one misplaced detail.
She was professional to a fault.
But as he stared at the ceiling, he knew that wasn’t the full truth. He trusted her. Trusted the way she never probed for more than she needed to know. Trusted the way she absorbed information and stored it without exploiting it.
In an industry where everyone angled for advantage, Divya Mathur asked for nothing. She simply made his days smoother. And that quiet reliability had become something he relied on more than he intended.
The thought unsettled him.
Because this, this instinct to share without calculation, was not something Vikram Khanna did lightly.
Two Days Later
Vikram scrolled through his tablet, grinning at photo after photo of his perfectly composed brother looking utterly besotted while guiding Ishani through reporters.
“Oh, Raghav,” he chuckled. “The mighty CEO, brought to his knees.”
He paused on one image. Raghav was glaring at a reporter who’d stepped too close to Ishani, his hand possessively spanning her lower back.
His controlled, calculated brother, the man who hated media attention, now dominated every gossip column in Mumbai.
Vikram reached for the call button. Three seconds later, the door opened.
Divya stepped in, notebook clutched to her chest, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses.
“You called, Boss?”
“My brother’s in love,” Vikram announced, waving his tablet. “And the media is having a field day.”
