Page 81 of Okay Boss
Ishani bit her lip, eyes dancing between her brother-in-law and his new wife, clearly recognizing entertainment when she saw it.
Divya, oblivious, kept writing. “The photoshoot for Film Companion needs to move to Thursday,” she muttered, half to herself. “And I’ve adjusted the interview with Filmfare to accommodate Farhan’s new blocking schedule. That gives us the full day Monday for...”
“Divya.”
Vikram’s voice cut through her mental calculations like a blade through silk.
She looked up, blinking as if surfacing from underwater. “Hmm?”
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”
She glanced at her watch to confirm. “I know. You have that production meeting at nine, so I wanted to make sure everything was.” She gestured at her notebook, as if the rest of the sentence was self-evident.
Around the table, four people had gone very, very still. This was better than television.
“Stop working at the breakfast table.” Vikram’s tone was gentle but pointed. He set down his juice with deliberate care. “Breakfast is for family.”
Family.
The word landed like a stone dropped in still water. Divya looked around the table as if seeing it properly for the first time. Kavita watching her with patient amusement. Harshit with his newspaper strategically positioned. Raghav openly grinning now. Ishani practically vibrating with suppressed laughter.
A family having breakfast. And her, with her notebook and her pen and her crisis management, treating their dining room like a mobile office.
Her pen stilled mid-note.
“I.” She started, then stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to schedule your day before breakfast, and you’re starting shooting today, and there’s the permit issue with location, and Farhan’s assistant sent three emails about...”
“Divya.” Vikram’s voice was softer now, but firm. “The world won’t end if I go to a production meeting without a color-coded schedule.”
She stared at him, her brain struggling to shift gears. But the call sheet. The permits. The scheduling conflicts. The three urgent emails. The...
“You’re not just my assistant anymore, Divya.” His eyes were steady on hers. “You’re allowed to just... eat breakfast.”
Not just his assistant. Right. His wife. His temporary-contract-arrangement wife who happened to also still be managing his entire professional life because what else was she supposed to do with herself in this house?
She closed her notebook slowly. Set down her pen.
“Okay, Boss.”
The words fell out of her mouth on pure reflex, the professional shorthand that meant ‘message received, will comply, moving on.’
The reaction was instantaneous and spectacular.
Kavita’s teacup paused halfway to her lips. She set it down very carefully, eyebrow climbing toward her hairline.
Harshit’s newspaper rustled violently, then slowly, very slowly, lowered to reveal eyes gone wide above reading glasses.
Raghav, who had just taken a sip of coffee, made a sound somewhere between a cough and a snort. Coffee went down the wrong pipe. He covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
Ishani pressed her napkin to her mouth, but her eyes sparkled with barely contained glee.
And Vikram?
Vikram became intensely, profoundly interested in his piece of toast. He picked it up. Examined it from multiple angles. Turned it over as if the underside might reveal secrets of the universe. His ears, the very tips of his ears, turned pink.
The silence that followed could have been weaponized.
Divya’s brain finally caught up to her mouth. Her face heated so fast she was mildly concerned about spontaneous combustion. “I meant...” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. Habit.”
