After settling into my room, I changed into something far removed from the sharp suits and polished heels that usually defined me. A simple long‑sleeve baby pink chikankari kurti I had bought from a local vendor on the way here. The delicate embroidery, the soft fabric—slightly transparent but comfortable—felt like a quiet rebellion against the image of the businesswoman I carried everywhere. Paired with loose white trousers and my hair left open, I looked nothing like the CEO of Infinity Group. I looked like a twenty‑one‑year‑old graduate, blending into the culture I had once abandoned.
As I wandered through the resort property, trying to distract myself from the gnawing irritation of being trapped here, I spotted Reyansh. Headphones on, munching on snacks, he looked effortlessly casual.
