Siddhant-Riddhima OS: Regrets

The ring of a white Blackberry erupted through the stark silence of the conference room. Within seconds a neatly manicured hand descended upon the device, reaching out a perfectly preserved finger to hit the end button. Moments later the sleek gadget rang again, dark grey annoyed eyes flickered to the screen, narrowing as they read the caller ID, "Siddhant," it read. Once again the hand reached out, shutting down the beckons of the mobile, and then shutting the device itself off.

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"Siddhant, call me now."

She shut off the call, frustrated at how things were going. Rubbing her forehead she glanced at the digital clock, which projected the time upon the opposite wall, 11:23 PM, and he was nowhere to be found. She glared angrily at her phone, why the hell wasn't he picking up? If it was in retribution for earlier that day, then he should be mature enough to handle the fact that she couldn't take personal calls during a professional meeting. She hadn't become a great businesswoman by letting her personal life affect her professional one.

Taking a breath to cool down her anger, she speed dialed him once again. Her fury mounted at each ring that passed without a response. Finally, giving up, she ended the call; in a fit of frustration she flung the helpless phone away from where she stood in the middle of their hall, sending it crashing into a nearby glass vase. Taking a deep frustrated breath she stood poised at the entrance to the kitchen with hands on her hips.

She bit her lips as she contemplated getting something to eat from the fridge. Usually, he would still be up waiting when she got home; waiting with a few sweet words and some new experimental concoction that would somehow always end up tasting amazing. The best part was that it would go perfectly with whatever diet she happened to be on that day. He had insisted they not have a cook, only a daytime maid, because along with being his profession, cooking was also his passion.

She hadn't realized that his sudden disappearance would affect her diet too.

Her heels clicked on the marble flooring as she made her way to the center island, hoping maybe he had left something in advance. No luck. She frowned, people were so inconsiderate sometimes. Rolling her eyes she turned away from the counter, opening the fridge to see if there were any, yuck, leftovers. She eyed the bowl of soup that sat on the top shelf of their two door heavy duty fridge, grudgingly, she grabbed it and placed it in their microwave, which like the whole kitchen, was sleek and black and gray steel.

She was heading back with the soup when her discarded phone began to ring. Extracting it from within the broken glass she read the screen; with a entitled sigh she held it to her ear, expression cross as she began stalking towards the stairs.

"So you finally found time for me is it?" She lashed out, "or did you dial a wrong number?"

"Umm, is this Riddhima?"

She paused mid-step, suspicion arousing at the unfamiliar voice from the familiar number, "yes?"

The person on the other end cleared their throat, pausing before slowly speaking again. "I called because you were the most recent caller in this phone, the owner of this phone...I'm sorry."