"Aree uncle, jaake apne pote-poti ke saath baitho na... ya apne bete-bahu ke saath. Mere seat pe kyun baithe hue ho aap?" Ashi frowned deeper. "Hello? Uncle ji? Sunai nahi deta kya? Yeh meri seat hai." Now she was fully done, "Aapko samajh nahi aata kya? Ticket dekh ke.." Before she could complete her sentence, the man slowly lifted the cap from his face. And looked straight at her. Ashi's words died instantly. Because the man she had just confidently called uncle... Was absolutely, undeniably not an uncle. Late twenties. Sharp features. Clean jawline. Formal clothes that screamed class. And eyes...calm, sharp, and currently staring at her like he had just found unexpected entertainment. The man studied her for a second, then his gaze casually moved from her face... to her height... and back to her face. A faint smirk appeared. And then he said, in a calm, slightly amused tone, "Seat tumhari hai... lekin attitude kaafi bada hai... bacchi pata nahi aaj kal maa baap apne chote bacchon ko akele kaise travel karne dete hai." ___________________________________________________________________________ ASHI AGGARWAL, 23, had spent two exhausting years chasing jobs, surviving ghosted emails and endless "We regret to inform you" messages. Not because she needed money, but because she had dreams and self-respect. Still, rejection after rejection had started to wear her down. Then one day-ping. A job offer from Mumbai for a Food Technologist Scientist position. After two long years, Ashi had finally made it. ABIR MITTAL, twenty-six, was tall, intimidating, rich, and permanently done with life. Born into a wealthy Bhopal family, he could've lived comfortably forever. But comfort was boring. So when India's second-largest tech company offered him a General Manager position in Mumbai, he packed up and left New city, zero peace, endless emails. Completely unaware that Mumbai had more than just a promotion waiting for him.