The silence in the room was suffocating. Aratrika felt herself shrinking under Aryan's sharp, piercing gaze. Her heart was druming so loudly she was sure the others could hear it.
Aryan: (Closing the file with a loud, deliberate thud) "So, Ms. Aratrika. Your resume claims you're an expert in space utilization. But based on our... little encounter this morning, your street management skills seem quite pathetic."
Aratrika: (Gulping, her voice barely a whisper) "Sir, that was... an unfortunate accident. I am deeply sorry."
Aryan: (Leaning back in his chair, spinning a premium pen between his fingers) "Sorry? Just twenty minutes ago, you were quite vocal about whether I owned the sidewalk or not. What happened to that fire, Ms. Aratrika? Did it die out when you saw my nameplate?"
Aratrika: (Taking a sharp breath, deciding that if she was going down, she'd go down with dignity) "Sir, with all due respect, I believe professional life and personal accidents should remain separate. The coffee ruined your shirt, not my architectural designs. Besides... I did offer you a tissue."
Aryan: (One eyebrow shooting up in disbelief) "A tissue? That was a crumpled, ink-stained scrap of paper from the bottom of your bag. It made the stain worse. Do you have any idea what this shirt costs?"
Aratrika: (Looking him straight in the eye) "Sir, talent shouldn't be measured by the price tag on a shirt. If you give me this job, I promise to work hard enough that my first month's salary can buy you a dozen of those white shirts."
Aryan: (Stunned into a brief silence. A flicker of something—was it amusement?—crossed his eyes) "A dozen? You've got nerve, I'll give you that. But I'm not looking for a personal stylist; I'm looking for a lead designer who doesn't crash into things."
He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked at the other board members.
Aryan: (Coldly) "Fine. Report at 9:00 AM sharp tomorrow. And Aratrika..." (He stopped her just as she reached the door) "Bring a cup of black coffee tomorrow. In a proper cup this time—not splashed across my chest."
Aratrika: (A small, victorious smile tugging at her lips) "Of course, Sir. I'll make sure to check my shoes before I leave home, too."