Nothing but THE BOSS

📖 CHAPTER 1: "First Impressions, Lasting Irritations"

8:42 AM – Monday
The office hallway was already buzzing, but inside the glass cabin that overlooked the whole floor, silence reigned. Anusha tapped her pen sharply against her notepad, a subtle tic she didn't know she had when things weren't running on time.

Anusha the CEO of STARMUSK

Call him in..anusha in crisp tone ask her secretary Shalini

Unsure and scared shalini replied...he is still not here ma'am

"Where the hell is he?" she muttered.

Her assistant, Shalini, peeked through the door, already tense. "Ma'am, he's on his way. Just five more minutes."

"Make it zero." Anusha's tone was ice-sharp. "Tell him this isn't a college internship. I don't tolerate latecomers."

Outside, Siddharth adjusted the strap of his old backpack and walked in like he didn't have a care in the world. Black shirt, casual jeans, a calm expression, and a slight smirk. If charm had a pulse, it walked with him.

The cabin door creaked softly as he stepped in. There she stood.

Dusky skin glowing under the harsh white office lights, her sharp eyes darting across a printed page, lined with thick strokes of kajal and framed by long, naturally curled lashes. Her plump lips were pressed together in a slight frown, and her posture screamed authority. Medium-heighted, she wasn't one of those stick-thin girls the world seemed to worship, but instead held herself with an ease that came only from someone comfortable in their own skin. Curves? Yes. Perfectly sculpted, with a presence that could silence a storm.

Her clipped nails tapped faintly against the paper, and her hair—neatly tied into a taut ponytail—looked like it hadn't moved since the start of the day. Eyes flickering with focus, her entire being seemed... calculated. In control.

Siddharth couldn't help but blink.
"Bossy."
His brain decided that word first, but something beneath it whispered: Beautiful.

She looked up when she sensed movement.

The guy standing at her cabin door didn't knock. Of course, he didn't.

Tall—definitely above six feet. Broad-shouldered with a casually fit build. Not the gym-crazy kind, but the kind who probably never skipped a run. His t-shirt hung comfortably, not too tight, not trying too hard. Hair a little messy—like he hadn't combed it twice. Maybe once. Probably with his fingers.

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn't smiling. Thin lips. A sharp chin with a tiny mole on the right—one of those details that would stick in your memory without effort. His skin was a soft tan, but it was the eyes that stood out. Deep, jet-black, looking straight at her without flinching.

And that bag. He clung to it with one hand, knuckles stiff. Almost like letting it go would send it tumbling, and with it, his dignity.

Anusha's jaw tightened.
"Casual."
"New."
"And clearly late."

"Hi," he said simply, walking in as Shalini scurried away. "Siddharth. First day. Sorry about the delay—turns out autos don't care if it's your first day at work."

Anusha didn't smile. She didn't even blink.

"You're seven minutes late," she said, arms crossed. "And I don't appreciate excuses dressed in casual humor."

Siddharth raised a brow. "Fair. But hey, at least I dressed formal enough to be scolded."

Her lips twitched—annoyed, not amused. "Sit. This is not a coffee shop."

He sat down, backpack still on his shoulders, like he wasn't just hired but had wandered into the wrong meeting.

"I read your profile," she said, flipping a file with deliberate precision. "Average experience, but excellent academics, So why here?"

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Because I wanted to start somewhere real. Build something small. Learn."

"You sound like a Pinterest quote."

"I get that a lot," he replied coolly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You'll be under direct supervision for the first two weeks. You're not allowed to take client calls, pitch ideas, or even design solo until you prove you're worth the stationery you're using."

"Copy that, boss," he said with a fake salute.

She almost rolled her eyes. Almost.

⸻

10:35 AM – Workspace

"Dude, you pissed her off?" whispered Raghav, another executive, leaning over his cubicle.

Siddharth smiled, typing slowly. "Did I? She was probably born with that tone."

"You have no idea. She's like... a deadly warning in human form."

Siddharth chuckled softly and looked across the floor, where Anusha stood with a team, explaining something with swift, no-nonsense gestures. She was intense. Exact. Not one word wasted.

And yet, he noticed the way she kept checking everything twice. How her hand trembled slightly when she fixed her ponytail. As if she never allowed herself to be off-guard.

⸻

1:15 PM

"You spelled 'strategy' wrong in your draft," Anusha snapped, tossing the paper on the table.

Siddharth blinked. "Oh. Sorry, i wi...

"I don't want sorry. I want accuracy." She leaned forward. "One more file like this and you'll be in HR, writing your resignation letter."

"Noted." He kept his voice light, but something flickered in his eyes.

"Anything else you need corrected?" she added, deadpan.

"Just the salary, but I guess that's HR's fault," he said with a straight face.

Her stare could've melted metal.

Later the day it was around 6:45 PM

Anusha packed her laptop, stiff shoulders aching from sitting too straight for too long. As she stepped outside, she noticed Siddharth at the corner tea stall, laughing with the chai guy.

She stared a moment longer than she meant to.

How could someone take everything so lightly? How could someon be so....carefree!!

⸻

Back at his apartment, the weight of the day settled across Siddharth's shoulders like an old hoodie."

Warm yellow lights. Wooden shelves with books. A guitar in the corner. Siddharth tossed his bag onto a beanbag and kicked off his shoes.

He poured himself chai from a steel flask and opened his laptop. He checked the news. His father's company — Malhotra Industries — was still splashed across headlines. He scrolled past it like it was junk mail.

He didn't want that life. Not the boardrooms. Not the pressure. Not the constant measuring-up.

He looked out of his window, into a sky that didn't care about his last name.

And smiled.

⸻

Anusha entered a silent home. Her home greeted her not with comfort, but with quiet judgment and a haunting kind of silence."
No warm lights. Just pale walls and order.
She slipped off her heels and walked into the living room where a single framed photo sat on the shelf — a woman with kind eyes and a tired smile.

"Hi, Ma," she whispered, running a hand over the frame.

The room stayed still.

She microwaved leftover pasta, ate in silence, and opened her laptop again. Work didn't talk back. Work didn't leave you.

Work, at least, didn't die on a hospital bed when you were ten.

She took a breath. Then stood, walked to the mirror, and fixed her face — expressionless, composed.

Because tomorrow, she would be the boss again.

⸻

To Be Continued...
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