ISHA'S POV:

"Isha... Isha, wait for me, my love!" Raghav called, laughter lacing his voice as he broke into a run after me.

I glanced over my shoulder, grinning. "You'll have to catch me first, Mr Raghav."

"Oh? Is that a challenge?" he called back, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Maybe," I teased before running even faster.

The garden echoed with our laughter as I tried to outrun him, stealing playful glances behind me. Just when I thought I'd escaped, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist.

A surprised squeal escaped my lips. "Raghav!"

Without a word, he lifted me off the ground and spun me around. The world blurred into shades of green and gold while my laughter mingled with his.

"Raghav... stop!" I giggled, clutching his shoulders. "You're making me dizzy."

He slowly set me back on my feet but made no move to step away. His hands remained around my waist, holding me as though letting go had never crossed his mind.

I looked up at him, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "You can let go now."

"Can I?" he murmured, one eyebrow arching mischievously. "You're the one who insisted I catch you."

"I never said that."

His lips curled into a slow, irresistible smile. "Oh? Because I distinctly remember a certain beautiful girl saying..." He leaned in, his warm breath brushing against my cheek. "...that if I managed to catch her..."

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "...I'd earn a kiss."

"I think your memory is failing you," I whispered, though my racing heartbeat betrayed me.

"Maybe." He closed the distance between us until only a breath separated our faces. "But I'm willing to be reminded... preferably by the source herself."

I tried to look away, but his gentle fingers tilted my chin back toward him.

"So..." Raghav whispered with a mischievous grin. "Are you planning to wake up on your own... or should I bring my chappal (slippers)?"

I blinked in confusion.

"Huh?"

I frowned at him. "Raghav... since when did you start sounding exactly like Mumma?"

THWACK! Something smacked my backside with enough force to launch me straight out of dreamland.

"Aaaah!" I shouted as my eyes flew open.

Standing over me was my mother, one hand on her hip and the other proudly holding her legendary weapon of mass destruction— The chappal.

"So, Sleeping Beauty," she said with a sweet smile that promised absolutely no mercy, "were you waiting for Prince Charming to wake you up... or was my chappal invitation enough?"

I rubbed my sore bum and glanced around the room in horror. No garden. No Raghav. No romantic confession. Just my mother... and her size-seven reality check.

I let out a dramatic groan and muttered, "Seriously? You couldn't let him kiss me first?"

Mumma raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing!" I squeaked.

Mumma smirked and said, "Maharani, kripya apne fictional world bahar aaye yahi reason hai ki aapka koi REAL boyfriend nhi h."
(Madam, kindly come out of your fictional world; that is the reason you don't have a REAL boyfriend.)

I gasped and said, "YOU, YOU TAKE THAT BACK. TAKE THAT BACK."

Mumma smirked and said, "I won't."

Suddenly, the door to my room flew open, and my brother, Riyansh, walked in with a scowl.

Seriously, if this guy doesn't start smiling, his face will be scowling permanently.

"What's this chaos all about?" He asked while looking at both Mumma and me with big black eyes.

"Bhaiya," I complained with an exaggerated pout, "Mumma said I'm never getting a real boyfriend."

Mumma whipped her head toward me and looked absolutely shik-shak-shook.

"Isha!" she gasped.

I shrugged innocently and muttered, "What? I only edited your statement a little. It's called... creative paraphrasing."

Mumma glared at me as Bhaiya said, "Well, she's not wrong. You're obviously not getting a boyfriend."

My smug grin vanished so fast it deserved an award.

"What?!" I gasped dramatically. "First of all, what do you mean by getting a boyfriend? Is he some limited-edition item you're going to order online? I'll find my own boyfriend, thank you very much!"

"Yeah, yeah," Riyansh Bhaiya waved me off. "For that, you'll have to step out of your fictional universe first, my dear."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"And judging by your current condition..."

He looked me up and down before grinning.

"...that's never happening."

Both he and Mumma burst into laughter, treating my heartbreak like it was prime-time entertainment.

"Ugh!" I huffed, stomping toward the bathroom with all the dignity I could salvage.

I slammed the door shut behind me.

"When I do find my boyfriend," I shouted from inside, "none of you will be able to stop us from getting married!"

Without missing a beat, Bhaiya called back between laughs, "Oh, we won't have to, Princess."

I like a fool I am asked, "Why not?"

"Because," he replied, his laughter echoing through the hallway, "he'll be fictional too."

I groaned so loudly the entire house probably heard it.

"One day," I muttered to myself, "I'm going to prove these two wrong."

Oh, right. 

In the middle of all the family chaos, I completely forgot to introduce myself.
Hi, everyone! I'm Isha Mittal—a fairly well-known author who prefers publishing under a pen name because fame is great... until people start asking for selfies while you're grocery shopping. 
Hehehehe

Besides writing fictional men who have apparently ruined my expectations of real ones, I also work at my family's company.
Now, let's meet the wonderful circus I call my family.

The woman currently yelling outside my room is my mother, Ananya Mittal—a renowned painter whose extraordinary artistic talent, unfortunately, skipped all three of her children. Not a single artistic gene survived the journey.

Moving on to her equally dramatic offspring...
The menace who finds immense joy in roasting me is Riyansh Mittal, my elder brother and the CFO of our family business, Mittal Constructions. His full-time profession is finance; his part-time hobby is making my life miserable.
Then there's my eldest brother, Vihaan Mittal, the CEO of Mittal Constructions and, without a doubt, my favourite person in the entire family.
Unlike Riyansh Bhaiya, Vihaan Bhaiya has never laughed at my delusions. He pampers me, spoils me, and practically treats me like I'm still five years old.
I absolutely adore him. The only downside?
He's been away on a business trip for the past month, and the house feels unusually empty without him.

And finally, there's my father, Rajveer Mittal—the Managing Director of Mittal Constructions, a respected businessman, and the man who can silence an entire boardroom with a single glance.
...He—

"Isha!" Mumma's voice boomed from outside my room, rudely interrupting my grand introduction. "Are you planning to live in that bathroom? Your Papa is waiting!"

"There goes my narrator," I muttered under my breath.

"Coming!" I shouted back.

I hurriedly changed into my office outfit—a fitted black polo T-shirt paired with crisp white Korean-fit trousers. After one last glance in the mirror to make sure I looked at least somewhat presentable, I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs, ready to face yet another day with my wonderfully chaotic family.

"Good morning, everyone!" I chirped, flashing my brightest, million-watt smile.

"Good morning!" Mumma and Riyansh Bhaiya echoed with matching enthusiasm.

Papa, on the other hand, responded with something that sounded suspiciously like a grunt.

"Come here, baccha," Mumma said fondly, placing a plate in front of me. "I made your favourite—aloo parathas."

The sight of golden, crispy aloo parathas glistening under a generous dollop of melting butter literally watered my mouth.

"ALOO PARATHAS!" I exclaimed as though I'd just discovered buried treasure.

Without wasting another second, I grabbed one and dug in with the kind of dedication people usually reserve for winning Olympic medals.

The world faded away. Nothing existed except me...and my soulmate.

Mumma and Riyansh Bhaiya exchanged an amused glance as they watched me inhale an entire paratha in under a minute.

What can I say? Some people fall in love with people. I fell in love with aloo parathas.

"If you put half as much effort into your work as you're putting into eating those parathas," Papa remarked dryly without looking up from his plate, "people might stop calling you a nepo baby.

I did what I do best. Ignored him. Why? Simple. Because everyone—except Papa—knew the truth. No one had ever called me a nepo baby. Not the employees, not the media, not even our competitors. Everyone knew I had earned my place. If anything, I had worked twice as hard as Vihaan Bhaiya and Riyansh Bhaiya just to prove that I deserved to stand beside them. Papa knew it too. But admitting that? Apparently, it was against his personal constitution.
Sometimes I genuinely believed he was the reincarnation of those judgmental buas from old Hindi serials whose sole purpose in life was to throw taunts at people.

"Raj." "Papa." Mumma and Riyansh Bhaiya spoke at the same time.

Papa merely shrugged, folded his newspaper, and walked out of the dining room as if nothing had happened. Mumma let out a tired sigh. Before the silence could become awkward, Riyansh Bhaiya leaned toward me with a mysterious smile. "Baccha, I have a surprise for you."

My eyes widened instantly. "A surprise? For me?" I gasped. "What is it? Tell me! Come on... tell me, tell me, tell me!"

He laughed at my excitement. "If I tell you, then it won't be a surprise anymore, will it?" he said, chuckling. "Besides, it hasn't arrived yet."

I narrowed my eyes and said, "You're evil."

"I've learned from the best." He ruffled my hair despite my dramatic protests. "Come on, Drama Queen. We'll be late for the office." I puffed my cheeks but followed him anyway.

A few minutes later, we were on our way to Mittal Constructions.

"So..." I said, popping a candy into my mouth. "When's Vihaan Bhai coming back?"

Oh, did I mention? I'm a certified foodie. My bag is basically a portable convenience store. Candies, chocolates, dry fruits, chocolate-covered dry fruits... If it's edible, chances are you'll find it in there.

Riyansh Bhaiya kept his eyes on the road and replied, "No idea, Princess."

I sighed dramatically and said, "You never know anything."

He only laughed.

After a moment, he asked, "Is the presentation for the Rathore Chain of Hotels ready?"

"Yup." I gave him a confident grin and replied, "Don't worry. This project is ours."

"I never doubted it." He glanced at me with a proud smile.

"You know, every project we've secured from the Rathores has been because of your ideas. Your creativity is the reason clients keep coming back." He continued.

A warm blush spread across my cheeks. Praise from Riyansh Bhaiya always meant a lot to me.

"Thanks..." I muttered.

He smiled before asking, "So, are you presenting today?"

I immediately shook my head and said, "Bhai, you know I hate being in the spotlight. I'd much rather stay behind the scenes."

He chuckled. "I know."

Then he smirked and continued,  "Otherwise, the moment people found out that the bestselling author behind those famous novels was also Isha Mittal, there'd be a queue stretching outside the office filled with fans wanting your autograph."

I groaned. "Exactly! Which is why my pen name shall remain a secret."

He laughed while I opened my laptop one last time, making a few final tweaks to the presentation. My brothers always gave their hundred per cent to protect our family's dream. The least I could do was give mine to help them build it.

THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER.
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