Seven Dates A Weekend | RO ✓

21 | the one in which there's a problem

The smell of fresh paint stings its way through my nostrils all the way up to my head. White and grey colours overlap and mix in an artistic spectrum onto the walls of my new office. The coffee mug sitting onto my office table hisses softly the warm temperature of it into the chilled AC room. I press my finger against the massive thick folders resting crisp and bulky, besides it. There's so much to do and so little time for it. This brings a sigh of tiredness off my lips.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Kapoor?" My assistant asks. I nod in assurances to her, but I can't shake off the load of responsibilities and duties that I have to carry out - despite Which my mind keeps going back to one place. Or should I say, one person?

"I'm stepping out for a bit," I tell her, grabbing the mug of coffee in my hands and making my way towards the cabin's door. "Call me if there's a need for anything. I'll be in the lodging area."

On my way out I hear say her Yes, boss! to which I grimace. I don't know if I'm worthy of being called that now. After the show "The Dates" hosted by Saloni Neeves went viral I was immediately promoted. More likely I was promoted as a boss of the publishing team, replaced from being the producer of the show to being the head of the department.

If only I had not been her date. I can't help but wonder. My name wouldn't have been placed against the world as a date, who is the boss of the magazine company. Instead, my name would have been placed as the maker- the producer of the show. Had I not been her date that night, things would have been different.

I grip the mug of coffee firmly in my hand.

Why did I do it?

I, Aahan Kapoor, always work in one way. If there's a problem, I get hell-bent on finding a solution for it. Problem-solution is the way of life for me. I don't care at what price the solution comes - the problem should be removed at all costs. But what if the problem isn't a problem anymore?

It's not like Saloni is a problem. It's not like she's made my life worse or stopped my daily mundane lifestyle. And if there's a problem in my plan of being a producer it wasn't because of her.

I've come to realise it's because of me. It's because of my actions.

Why? Why did I be her date that night? Why did I kiss her? Why did it feel so good?

I take a sip of my coffee. It's a cappuccino and it instantly reminds me of her all over again. It's not like it's a bad memory. But there's a feeling of being empty inside my chest.

She left.

I have to remind myself that again and again. After that night at my house, she left abruptly. She didn't let me talk or anything. She just dressed up quickly behind a door shut on my face then, headed straight for her shoes before running out.

I remember walking back to the room and reading her note. After a date like that and a night like that, why did she leave? Did she regret kissing me? A scowl makes its way up on my face.