The air in Saaransh's room crackled with a nervous energy that had little to do with the approaching monsoon. Saaransh adjusted his shirt, the soft fabric doing little to soothe the frantic fluttering in his chest. Saaransh Singhania, usually the picture of calm and collected leadership, paced his meticulously organized living room, a flurry of last-minute adjustments his only solace. A week had passed since the formal meeting at Singhania Industries, a meeting orchestrated by their families, a meeting that was supposed to be strictly business. But for Saaransh, it had been anything but. The meeting where he'd first encountered Samaira Birla. He replayed the moments in his head – her sharp intellect sparring with his father during negotiations, the way her eyes, the color of stormy seas, held a depth he couldn't quite decipher, and that fleeting, almost imperceptible smile she'd offered when he'd complimented her insights.