Once Upon A Crowned Heart

Two

Kavya

Kavya trailed behind Rishika, her mentor and boss, who stormed out of the building in a fit of anger. As they walked, a sense of dread washed over her, knowing that she might face the repercussions of her actions. Oh, why did she always have to blurt out whatever came to her mind? It had cost her two jobs already, and now this was the third one on the line.

But she couldn't help herself when faced with pompous individuals like the prince. How could she stay quiet? He hides behind his fancy royal title and crown, pretending to be charming while remaining oblivious to the world around him. Arrogant, that's what he is—someone who couldn't care less about the real issues that plague this world...

"What was it again? His beloved charitable cause of providing shelter and safety to orphans," Kavya muttered, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "Ah, yes, just another one of those 'holier than thou' liars who prioritize their precious public image above all else. They'll do whatever it takes to maintain that facade, no matter the hypocrisy."

"Boss," Kavya attempted to engage in conversation, but Rishika swiftly shut her down. "Save it. I don't want to hear another word," Rishika retorted, her irritation unmistakable. Kavya couldn't help but notice the fire in Rishika's voice.

"Well, isn't it a blessing that the Editor-in-Chief might spare my job? I went to bat for you, fought tooth and nail to get you hired in this newspaper," Rishika continued, a mix of frustration and worry evident in her tone. "Who knows what awaits me in there? So, just zip it and stick close to me."

With a sense of urgency, Rishika stormed towards the building, and Kavya trailed behind, fully aware of the brewing storm that lay ahead, uncertain of what awaited them in the turbulent sea of consequences.

Kavya paced nervously outside the editor-in-chief's office. The building was almost empty, adding to her self-scolding. "Why did you do it, Kavya?" she scolded herself. "You know he's the prince, right? Prince of Wales! And you just had to blurt it all out in front of him." She berated herself further. 

"Silly, silly girl! Now you're going to lose this job too, and there's no one who can save you. Where will you go next? Who will vouch for you when they ask why you got fired? What will you say? And why would any decent media company hire a loudmouthed troublemaker like you?" The questions swirled in her mind, leaving her clueless and anxious about what lay ahead.

"Where is she?" Kavya's editor-in-chief's booming voice echoed through the office, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She nervously chewed on her fingernails, feeling the weight of impending doom. "Today, my dear, you won't be able to escape his wrath. He's on the prowl for any mistake, and you've just served it to him on a silver platter with your trademark recklessness. Bravo, Kavya, shooting yourself in the foot has become your special talent." With a sinking feeling, she contemplated hiding under her cubicle, but as always, luck seemed to slip away from her grasp right when she needed it most.

Kavya heard the footsteps halt right in front of her cubicle. "Oh, I can see you, you know? Your magical hiding skills aren't fooling anyone in that teeny-tiny space," her editor-in-chief's voice rang out. Caught in a seemingly inescapable situation, Kavya had no choice but to confront this head-on. Summoning her courage, she stood up and turned around to face her boss's boss. There he stood, the epitome of sternness, in his impeccably tailored suit, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his foot impatiently tapping on the floor. It was as if a drill sergeant had stumbled into the wrong office.

She flashed a wide, innocent smile. "Oh, sir, I wasn't hiding at all! I just, uh, dropped my..." she trailed off, realizing her feeble attempt at an excuse wouldn't hold up. He finished her sentence with a sarcastic tone, "Pen? If I had a dollar for every pen lost under my not-so-spacious cubicle, I'd be living in a mansion by now." Kavya avoided his gaze, feeling the weight of her own ineptitude.