Chapter 9: Pitch Perfect, Hearts Shaken
Narrated by Aanya Kapoor
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The morning of the pitch felt like the first day of school — if school involved potentially getting sued, betrayed, and falling irreversibly in love with your partner.
No pressure.
I stood outside Arjun Mehta's office building, nerves tangling in my stomach.
It was all glass and steel, a monument to ambition.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans for the fiftieth time.
Beside me, Rohan adjusted his collar, looking maddeningly calm.
"You ready?" he asked, voice teasing.
"Define ready," I muttered.
He grinned and bumped his shoulder against mine.
"Hey. We've got this," he said. "You're brilliant. Nudge is brilliant. And Arjun loves innovation."
I tried to smile.
But underneath, doubt gnawed at me.
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Inside, the lobby was a swirl of polished surfaces and important-looking people.
We signed in and were led upstairs to a sleek conference room.
Waiting for Arjun was like waiting for a bomb to detonate — every tick of the clock louder than the last.
Rohan set up the presentation while I rehearsed our key points in my head.
User engagement. Behavioral nudging. Ethical data usage. Blah blah blah.
My brain was a soup of anxiety.
Finally, the door swung open.
Arjun Mehta walked in.
And every cell in my body snapped to attention.
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Arjun was... not what I expected.
You hear "tech investor" and you picture some bro in a hoodie or an old guy in a suit.
Arjun was neither.
Tall, early forties maybe, with a sharp jawline, piercing dark eyes, and a presence that made the room feel smaller.
He smiled — polite, not warm.
"Rohan," he said, shaking his hand. "Good to see you again."
Rohan nodded. "Thanks for meeting us."
Arjun's gaze slid to me.
"And you are?"
"Aanya Kapoor," I said, sticking out my hand.
He took it, his grip firm.
Assessing.
I resisted the urge to squirm.
---
We launched into the demo.
I clicked through the slides, explaining Nudge's mission:
Small behavioral prompts. Gentle guidance.
Helping users form better habits — healthier choices, smarter finances, stronger mental health.
No manipulation.
No tricks.
Just support.
Arjun listened without expression, fingers steepled under his chin.
When I finished, the silence stretched.
He tapped a pen against the table once. Twice.
Finally, he said, "Interesting."
Not a compliment.
Not yet.
He turned to Rohan.
"You're aware of the pending litigation against you?"
My heart seized.
Rohan didn't flinch.
"Yes," he said. "The allegations are baseless. We're fully prepared to defend ourselves."
Arjun smiled thinly.
"Good. I don't invest in liabilities."
---
The questioning began.
How would we scale?
What was our monetization model?
How did we plan to defend our intellectual property?
Rohan handled the technical attacks like a warrior — calm, sharp, lethal.
I fielded the behavioral science questions, holding my ground even when Arjun poked and prodded for weaknesses.
By the time we wrapped, I was drenched in nervous sweat but somehow still standing.
Arjun leaned back in his chair.
"I like it," he said finally.
My heart tripped.
"But," he added, and it plummeted again, "you have enemies. And lawsuits cost time and money."
"We're ready," Rohan said.
Arjun studied us.
Then, with maddening slowness, he said:
"I'll think about it."
---
Outside the building, I sagged against the nearest wall.
"Think about it?" I groaned. "That's investor code for 'thanks but no thanks,' isn't it?"
Rohan chuckled.
"Sometimes. Sometimes it means they're negotiating with themselves."
I looked up at him.
He looked energized.
Buzzing.
Alive.
God, he was beautiful when he was fighting for something.
"And sometimes," he added, stepping closer, "it just means they're scared of how big you could get."
I blinked.
"You think Nudge is... big?" I asked.
He smiled — slow, sure, devastating.
"I think you are."
---
We were so close now I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
The kiss last night hadn't been a fluke.
It had been a beginning.
But before I could drown in those dangerous eyes again, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Again.
I hesitated.
"Ignore it," Rohan said, reading my expression.
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to.
But...
Curiosity gnawed at me.
---
I answered.
Static crackled for a second.
Then a voice — low, distorted — said:
"You don't know him like you think you do."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, heart hammering.
"What is it?" Rohan asked.
I shook my head, trying to breathe.
"Nothing," I lied.
Because what was I supposed to say?
Hey, random creepy voice says you're hiding dark secrets, but no worries, let's keep building our app?
No.
I shoved the fear down deep.
Buried it under everything I believed about Rohan.
Everything we were building together.
---
But that night, lying in bed, the words echoed in my skull.
You don't know him like you think you do.
And for the first time...
I wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were right.
---
The next day, things spiraled fast.
We were at The Ridge, tweaking the demo for potential backup pitches, when Rohan's face went pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
He turned the laptop toward me.
It was an email.
From an anonymous account.
SUBJECT:
"Proof of Theft"
BODY:
"Your partner is not who he says he is. Open the attached file if you want the truth."
Attached was a folder labeled simply:
"Isha: Confidential"
---
I stared at it.
At the blinking cursor.
At the line in the sand.
Rohan looked shaken for the first time.
"I didn't steal anything," he said, voice rough. "I swear to you, Aanya."
"I believe you," I said automatically.
But a tiny voice whispered:
Do you?
If I opened that file...
I might find proof that everything we built was a lie.
Or I might destroy trust that hadn't even finished blooming yet.
Either way, nothing would be the same.
---
My hands hovered over the keyboard.
Rohan watched me — silent, still.
Waiting to see who I really was.
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End of Chapter 9.
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Teaser for Chapter 10:
Aanya faces a brutal choice
Secrets from Rohan's past come to light
And a betrayal threatens to tear them apart before they ever really begin...