Girl who called the wrong number Short Story
Chapter 1 The Wrong Call
Ananya sprinted down the street, phone clutched in her sweaty palm. Her interview in Dream company was in ten minutes, and, as usual, she was late. Her shoe nearly betrayed her, but she caught herself just in time before she could land flat on her face.
“Stupid heels!” she muttered, dialing the number HR had texted her earlier.
Ring… ring…
A deep, amused voice answered, “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Ananya Sharma! I’m calling regarding my interview
“Oh yes, Ms. Sharma,” the voice cut in smoothly. “We’ve been expecting you. Tell me, what’s your greatest weakness?”
Ananya rolled her eyes. “I work too hard, care too much, and my biggest flaw is that I’m too punctual,” she said, dodging a cyclist.
The man chuckled. “I like your attitude. Now, tell me—why do you want this job?”
“Because being unemployed isn’t really working out for me.”
“Fair. And if you were a vegetable, which one would you be?”
Ananya frowned, nearly tripping again. “Wait, what?!”
“You know, classic HR questions. We need to assess your vegetable potential.”
Ananya stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait… You are HR, right?”
“Oh no, I’m just some random guy you called. But you’re fun, so I figured I’d keep going.”
Ananya’s brain short-circuited. “What?! Who the hell are you?”
“Name’s Kabir. And you, my friend, just got free life coaching from an unemployed author.”
Ananya groaned. “Oh my God. I am such an idiot.”
“Not at all! You seem like the kind of person who thrives under pressure. Also, if they ask about weaknesses, go with ‘unrealistic optimism’—HR loves that crap.”
Before she could yell at him, her phone buzzed with another call
“I swear if I don’t get this job, I’m hunting you down!” she hissed before hanging up and answering the right call.
Chapter 2 The Texts Begin
Ananya: Hey, idiot. Your dumb advice actually worked. I got the job.
Kabir: I’m a genius. You’re welcome.
Ananya: Unrealistic optimism was a hit. I owe you a coffee.
Kabir: Make it whiskey. Or, at the very least, expensive chai.
And just like that, a strange habit began. Whenever Ananya had a rough day at work, she texted Kabir. And whenever Kabir needed a reality check, he texted her. It was weird, but it worked.
Chapter 3: The Book from Hell
Two months into the job, Ananya received her latest project—a book from an anonymous author under the pen name Malhotra.
She flipped through the pages. The first line read:
“Life is but a fleeting echo in the cavern of existence.”
She groaned. “Oh God, not another self-proclaimed philosopher.”
By page ten, she wanted to fling the manuscript out the window. By page twenty, she was sending an email to her editor:
Subject: Why Do You Hate Me?
Email: Why am I being tortured with this pretentious nonsense? Who actually talks like this?! ‘Cavern of existence’—seriously? This author needs therapy, not a publisher.
Her editor replied:
Be nice. He’s one of our bestselling authors.
Ananya sighed. “Ugh. Fine. Let’s fix this disaster.”
That night, she texted Kabir.
Ananya: I just got assigned the worst book in human history.
Kabir: Worse than Twilight fanfic?
Ananya: WAY worse. It’s like the author swallowed a thesaurus and then cried on paper.
Kabir: Damn. Who’s the author?
Ananya: Some mysterious Malhotra. Ever heard of him?
Silence.
Then—
Kabir: …Ananya, I have something to tell you.
Ananya: What?
Kabir: I am Malhotra.
Ananya froze. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, this is gold.”
Kabir: I hate you.
Ananya: Bro, I just trashed your entire book in a work email.
Kabir: Remind me to dedicate my next book to ‘that annoying editor who ruined my life.’
Chapter 4 Face to Face
After much convincing (and blackmail), Ananya agreed to meet Kabir in person. She walked into the café, scanning the room for someone who looked suitably dramatic and emotionally tortured.
And then—
A man waved at her from the corner table. Messy hair, hoodie, glasses, and a smirk that screamed, I knew you’d be impressed.
“So, you’re the tragic philosopher,” Ananya said, sitting down.
“And you’re the brutally honest editor who crushed my soul,” Kabir shot back.
“I stand by my critique.”
Kabir leaned forward. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Ananya rolled her eyes. “Because I owe you coffee. But I’m making you rewrite half your book.”
“Only if you promise to help make it less pretentious.”
She smirked. “Deal.”
Chapter 5: The Beginning of Something More
Weeks passed, filled with edits, coffee, and endless teasing. Their fights over grammar turned into late-night calls. Their sarcasm turned into something softer.
One night, after another round of rewrites, Kabir texted her:
Kabir: If I ever write a romance novel, I think I’d dedicate it to you.
Ananya: Please don’t. I’d rather not be associated with your tragic metaphors.
Kabir: Too late. ‘To the girl who called the wrong number and made my life interesting.’
Ananya smiled at her screen. Maybe the universe did connect people in strange ways.
Maybe… this was fate.