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Here's the Prologue

Hihihihi.... mere se ruka nhi gya so ..

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A girl was peacefully lost in her dream world  and not the ordinary, low-budget type of dream where you’re late for an exam or falling off a building.

No.

This one had glamour.

It had a spotlight. It had background music that screamed the main character entry.

A grand ballroom stretched endlessly under glittering crystal chandeliers. Golden lights bathed the marble floors in a soft glow, and every corner sparkled like money had personally approved the décor. A live orchestra played an emotional symphony dramatic enough to make even the air feel important.

The hall was filled with influential faces CEOs, entrepreneurs, powerful women in sharp heels, men in tailored suits discussing “market trends” with expressions that said they owned half the planet.

Cameras flashed. Waiters moved around gracefully with trays of sparkling drinks. Everything looked expensive. Everything felt powerful.

And in the center of it all stood She.

Draped in a breathtaking midnight-blue gown that flowed behind her like a loyal assistant, she looked nothing less than royalty.

Her posture was confident, chin slightly lifted, eyes steady  the kind of steady that comes from knowing you’ve earned your place in the room. Tonight wasn’t just another fancy party.

Tonight was about recognition.

The host stepped forward, adjusting his mic with exaggerated seriousness. “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived.”

The music softened.

Drumroll.

“The award for Best Employee of the Year goes to someone whose dedication, leadership, and unstoppable determination have transformed the entire organization.”

A spotlight began to move across the hall.

“And the nominees are…”

A screen lit up behind the stage.

“Mr. Rohan Malhotra  for increasing company profits by 32%.”

Polite applause.

“Ms. Ananya Kapoor  for leading the most successful project of the year.”

Louder applause.

“And finally…” The spotlight slowed.

“For handling impossible clients, surviving deadlines that defy human biology, and still walking into the office every day like she owns the place…”

The spotlight stopped on her.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The room blurred slightly. This was it.

The host opened the golden envelope with dramatic slowness. “And the winner is…”

A pause so long it felt illegal.

“…Ashi Aggarwal.”

The crowd erupted into applause. People stood up. Cameras flashed like fireworks.

Someone in the audience even wiped away a proud tear that probably wasn’t real but looked cinematic.

She closed her eyes for a second, inhaling the sweet scent of victory. This was her moment.

With controlled elegance and perfectly measured confidence, she began walking toward the stage. Every step echoed across the ballroom like history was being written.

Her gown flowed behind her as if it knew it was part of something legendary.

She climbed the first step.

Then the second.

She reached out her hand toward the golden trophy

And suddenly, the ground trembled.

The chandelier above flickered.

The orchestra screeched out of tune.

The applause warped into something distorted.

Her confident smile faltered. “Hein? Yeh kya inn logon ne sasti si cheezin rakhi hai? Sab kuch hil kyu raha hai?” she muttered under her breath.

The stage shook violently. The spotlight blinked like it had forgotten its job.

The trophy blurred before her eyes as if reality itself was glitching.

And then....

A voice.....Not from the host....Not from the crowd.

Not from the universe.

But from somewhere far more terrifying.

“AGAR AB TU NAHI UTHI NA…”

The ballroom cracked down the middle.

The lights shattered.

The orchestra stopped mid-note.

“…TO MAIN SIDHE TUJHE TERE BED KE SAATH MERE GHAR SE BAHAR NIKAL DUNGI!”

Boom.

The glamorous hall exploded into nothingness.

She jolted upright in bed, hair in complete rebellion, blanket wrapped around her leg like it was personally offended.

The grand chandelier had been replaced by a slightly dusty ceiling fan. The orchestra had been replaced by a pressure cooker whistle in the distance.

Reality had arrived. Uninvited. Loud.

At the bedroom door stood her mother's  hands on hips, eyebrows raised, aura radiating pure warning energy.

“Five minutes…” she mumbled weakly, voice still half trapped in the dream.

“Five minutes? It’s been thirty! Uth ja...nahu to aaj khud hi banake khana apna nashta”

She blinked slowly, looking at her very ordinary room. No golden trophy. No applause. Just her alarm clock judging her existence.

She stared at her empty hands dramatically.

“My promotion…” she whispered.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Promotion? First get promoted out of this bed. Aur waise bhi promotion ke liye phele job chahiye hoti hai. Tere pass hai?”

And just like that, the award-winning corporate queen of her dreams transformed into a regular girl being threatened with eviction before breakfast.

Welcome to her life.

Where she wins awards at night…

And gets eviction notices in the morning.

“Mrs. Aggarwal aap muje sone kyu nahi de rahi? Accha khaasa meko trophy milne waali thi...aur apne jaga diya!!!" Saying this she throws her blanket in air with full dramatic effect.

“Uth ja ab...warna tere papa ko bula dungi mai!!" Saying this her mother just moved out of the room.

Ashi just rolled her eyes.

She had just taken two dramatic steps toward the bathroom...mentally preparing herself for the tragic responsibility of brushing her teeth...when her phone, lying innocently beside her pillow, suddenly began vibrating like it had personally witnessed a scandal.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And then it just refused to stop....She froze mid-walk.

Slowly turned her head.

Stared at the phone.

The phone continued ringing shamelessly.

“Subah ke 8 baje kaunsa insaan itna uchlta  hai?” she muttered with deep disrespect.

With pure irritation, she stomped back to her bed, climbed onto it like she was returning to her throne, grabbed the phone dramatically and unlocked it with squinted, half-dead eyes.

She opened the notification.

Read the subject line.

Blink.

Read it again.

Her brain restarted like an old Windows computer.

And then

“MMMMUUUMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!”

The scream echoed through the house with Dolby Atmos surround sound.

From the kitchen came an irritated response, “Ab kya tod diya?!”

But she wasn’t answering.

Because her eyes were widened to the size of saucers.

On her screen was the email.

The email.

The legendary, mythical, once-in-a-lifetime email she had been stalking her inbox for like a professional detective.

Subject: Offer Letter – Food Technologist | Mumbai

For a full five seconds, she just stared at it.

Then she tapped it open like she was defusing a bomb.

“We are pleased to inform you…”

“PLEASURED?!” she gasped. “I AM PLEASED! Hadh se jyada....yeh bhi koi puchne wali baat hai???”

She jumped on her bed.

Once.

Twice.

Almost slipped.

Regained balance like a gymnast who trained for this exact moment.

“MUMMYYYYYY!” she screamed again, this time sounding less like a victim and more like a lottery winner.

Her mother appeared at the door, already suspicious. “Kya hai? Kyun chillaa rahi hai? Neighbours ko free entertainment kyun de rahi hai?”

She dramatically extended her phone forward.

“Mumbai!” she announced like she had just conquered it. “Job! Offer letter! Food Technologist! They want ME!”

Her mother squinted at the screen. Adjusted her specs. Read slowly.

“Haan toh… job mil gayi.”

“HAAN TOH?!” she gasped in betrayal. “Mummy this is not ‘haan toh’ moment. This is dramatic background music moment! Itna rukha sa reaction matt do Mrs. Aggarwal!!”

She snatched her phone back and reread the email again just to confirm it wouldn’t vanish.

Mumbai.

As a Food Technologist.

Official job.

Salary mentioned....Actual money.

Legal adult responsibility vibes.

She placed her hand on her chest dramatically. “I knew it. Corporate world sensed my talent. Aap faltu meri itni bezzati karti thi!!”

Her mother folded her arms. “Corporate world ko bata dena pehle apna room clean kare. Usse pehle tu khud hi kar le apna”

She ignored that attack.

Instead, she lifted her chin proudly. “From today… call me Miss Mumbai Professional.”

“Pehle naha le, Miss Professional,” her mother replied smile and walked away.

She stood there, still staring at her phone with a grin that could blind satellites.

Five minutes ago she was getting evicted from the house in her mother’s threats.

Now?

Mumbai had officially invited her.

And this time, it wasn’t a dream with shaking chandeliers.

It was an email....And thankfully…

Emails don’t get cancelled by mothers shouting from the kitchen.

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Hope you'll like it 💞

Please tell me how's the prologue

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