Mahak stepped out of her black sedan, the sharp click of her stiletto heels reverberating against the pavement. The cold London breeze teased the loose curls framing her face, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she adjusted the collar of her crimson blazer and strode into the towering glass building that housed one of the city's most exclusive conference centers.

Faris followed a few steps behind, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, a stark contrast to her polished elegance. He wasn't dressed for the boardroom, but he didn't need to be. His quiet confidence and easy charisma spoke louder than any tailored suit.

"Yeh gala ke baare mein tum itni serious kyun lag rahi ho?" he asked, catching up to her with a smirk. (Why do you look so serious about this gala?)

"Competition," she replied, her tone clipped. "Aur waise bhi, tum yahan enjoy karne aaye ho, kaam karne nahi." (And besides, you're here to enjoy, not to work.)

Faris grinned. "Kya tum yeh keh rahi ho ke tum mujhe seriously nahi leti?" (Are you saying you don't take me seriously?)

Mahak turned to face him, her heels giving her just enough height to meet his gaze evenly. "Main tumhe sirf ek competitor ke taur par leti hoon, Faris," she replied smoothly, her eyes glinting with amusement. (I only take you as a competitor, Faris.)

"Phir toh tumhe yeh jaan kar bohot bura lagega ke main is gala ka guest speaker hoon," he shot back, slipping past her into the lobby. (Then you're going to hate knowing that I'm the guest speaker for this gala.)

Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "Of course, you are."

Inside the ballroom, the tension between them only grew. Mahak mingled effortlessly, her charm disarming even the most aloof business magnates. She was the epitome of poise, her laughter light yet commanding. But every so often, her gaze would flit to where Faris stood, casually chatting with an investor she had been planning to approach.

"Woh investor meri list mein tha," she whispered to herself, gripping her champagne flute a little too tightly. (That investor was on my list.)

Anabia's voice echoed in her head: "Beta, har battle jeetne ki zarurat nahi hoti. Kabhi kabhi balance zaroori hota hai." (Dear, you don't need to win every battle. Sometimes balance is important.)

"Balance," Mahak muttered under her breath, watching Faris laugh with a group of executives. "Woh kya hota hai?" (What's that?)

Later in the evening, Faris finally approached her. "Tumhare gala ki success ka raaz kya hai, Mahak?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. (What's the secret to your gala's success, Mahak?)

She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Style, sophistication, aur ek cheez jo tumhare paas nahi hai-strategy." (Style, sophistication, and one thing you don't have-strategy.)

Faris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Aur tumhari strategy kya hai?" (And what's your strategy?)

"Confidential," she replied with a coy smile, turning away before he could respond.

As the evening wore on, Faris took the stage for his speech. Mahak tried to focus on her own table, but his deep voice, tinged with confidence and authority, pulled her attention. He spoke about innovation in the hospitality industry, weaving in anecdotes of his journey from nothing to building an empire.

"Kaise koi itni casually inspiration create kar sakta hai?" she thought, slightly annoyed. (How can someone so casually create inspiration?)

When he finished, the applause was thunderous. Mahak joined in, though her claps were slower, more measured.

After the gala, Faris found her near the entrance, scrolling through her phone.

"Impressed?" he asked, his tone light.

"Main tumhare public speaking skills ko applaud karungi, lekin tumhare ideas ko nahi," she replied, slipping her phone into her clutch. (I'll applaud your public speaking skills, but not your ideas.)

"Tumhara gala kaafi acha tha," he said sincerely, ignoring her barb. (Your gala was great.)

She glanced at him, surprised by the compliment. "Tum itne... achanak polite kyun lag rahe ho?" (Why do you suddenly sound so polite?)

"Maybe kyunki mujhe tumse seekhna hai ke har cheez ko trophy kaise banaya jata hai," he quipped, smirking. (Maybe because I need to learn from you how to turn everything into a trophy.)

Mahak laughed despite herself. "Aur shayad mujhe tumse seekhna hai ke simplicity se kaise charm kiya jata hai." (And maybe I need to learn from you how to charm with simplicity.)

Faris's smile softened. "Deal."

Their rivalry was far from over, but for the first time, Mahak felt like it wasn't just about winning anymore. Perhaps, in Faris, she had found someone who could challenge her without breaking her-and maybe even make her better in the process.