Page 55 of Drunk On Love

“Rough morning?” Meeta teased, her grin impossibly wide.

“Who even leaves the shower on?” I muttered, crossing my arms in annoyance as water dripped from my hair onto the floor.

Kartik and Meeta burst into uncontrollable laughter, while Manav, mid-cough, nearly choked himself trying to suppress whatever was left of his composure.

“Seriously, someone needs to tell your friend to see a doctor before he ends up choking on air,” I said, throwing up my hands in frustration and glaring at the giggling couple.

Meeta grinned, still unable to contain her laughter. “You two are not what I expected.”

Her grin widened as she whispered something to Kartik, who responded with a nod and a snicker.

Meanwhile, Manav shot them a death glare so intense it could’ve singed eyebrows. “Don’t you have some unfinished kisses to deal with instead of ruining my morning?” he narrowed his eyes at Kartik and Meeta.

Meeta stifled a giggle, dragging Kartik out of the room. Finally, they were gone. Manav, however, was still glaring at me—or maybe at the fact that I was wearing his shirt. Honestly, I couldn’t tell.

____________

The camera flashes, the crowd, and the relentless, rapid-fire questions were more than enough to drain me. I had somehow convinced the publishing and production team to wait another week for the final manuscript.

I have exactly one week to finish the final chapter, the one that’s held me hostage for what feels like forever.

The editorial team loved the first draft. My manager was practically obsessed with the dialogue. And now, after years of doubt and delay, my story is finally about to step into the world.

It was a big decision… but I’m ready.

Ready for things that once terrified me.

My publishing house in France is almost complete—the contractor’s thrilled about the interiors, and the marketing team is already prepping for the big launch. Every document I’ve received so far—the blueprints, branding layouts, and launch projections—feels like a dream finally aligning.

I’ve always dreamed of building a platform for stories that deserve to be heard—stories that haven’t been able to afford the steep price tags of traditional publishing. There are writers out there with voices powerful enough to change the world— brilliant minds who just need guidance, belief, and a little push to shine.

That’s the vision behind my publishing house: to open doors where none existed before.

Everything is falling into place.

“Hey…” Meeta’s cheerful voice broke through my spiral of thoughts.

“Hi…” I replied.

“How was the interview?” she asked, “It looked intense!”

“Yeah… it was… tiring,” I said, letting out a long sigh of relief as I slipped off the heels that had been plotting my demise all day. My feet practically sighed in gratitude.

“I know what you need…” Meeta said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “A night out. Let’s go. We’ll have some drinks andcelebrate!”

“Celebrate what?” I asked.

“It’s Manav’s birthday eve!” she said with a wink.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah… but youcan’ttell him we’re celebratinghis birthday.”

“So we’re celebrating his birthdaywithoutletting him know it’s about his birthday?” I asked, blinking at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.

“Exactly!” Meeta said, her grin so wide now it was a wonder her cheeks didn’t hurt.

“Deal. Let’s gonotcelebrate the birthday of the sulkiest, grumpiest, and most handsome man in the history of mankind.”