Revenge Formula

eleven

grand, isn't it?

ayan shook his head, "you're—"

"i am?" simran repeated, fixing him a pointed stare.

"nothing." ayan amended quickly.

that's what she thought.

"and then we'll call their designer." simran smiled.

ayan looked at her in utter disbelief.

"call their designer?"  he repeated.

"yeah. i have a little surprise for simone." she smiled. simone had tagged her designer all over her instagram posts.

and, simone was very bad with dates and deadlines. simran assumed that she'd have probably asked rishabh to collect her lehenga (or whatever the heck she was wearing) from the designer. 

("i'll forget. you do it." simran could almost imagine simone saying that in her sing-song, sweeter than nectar, voice)

"suppose rishabh has a password. how're you gonna crack that?" ayan frowned.

"please, ayan—i bet he still uses that password he used in college." simran replied.

his password was his date of birth, written backwards. and that ladies and gentlemen, is just how 'basic' rishabh mehta was—both in bedroom and otherwise.

now, simran wasn't a petty hacker. she's gonna let ayan do that part.

"simran—" ayan seemed truly speechless.

"i know, ayan." simran smiled, "but i don't like compliments."

but he could give her some, if he insisted.

"you're—this is too much." ayan said.

simran frowned at him, "this? wait till you see what i have in store."

🎈👠

(the next day . . . ) 

ayan was pretty damn sure that he was cursed, at this point.

he should've listened to his mother ramble about his horoscopes for this month—because he was sure someone had fucking cursed him and whatever little stability that he had in his goddamned life.

but he was pretty thankful that his eyes didn't pop out of it's sockets when he heard simran narrating her plan to him at the mall yesterday.

her plan was—he wanted to commit arson after hearing it. he'd rather have the cops put him behind bars than go along with simran and her weirdly twisted plan to get back at her ex-boyfriend/bestfriend.

but, as life (and the people pleaser in him) would have it, he was hiding behind the wall, acting as lookout for simran.

"ayan?" simran whispered through the phone, which was now in his pocket on but was connected to his headphones, "is he here yet?"

star of the hour—rishabh mehta!

"not yet." ayan said.

so this was the plan—ayan would give simran a heads-up when rishabh entered the elevator, simran would get herself inside the same elevator in some fucked up disguise on the floor right above the one he was on right now, ayan would go and mess with the fuse box (that was somewhere in a room next to the pool) so that the lights went out, and voilà —simran somehow got rishabh's phone!