ArvindTex Industries was one of those companies where nothing unexpected ever happened. Meetings were always on time, coffee always lukewarm, and the employees always wore expressions like they were waiting for their appraisal results — even in April.
And then Meena Rao walked in.
It was the Monday after Diwali. The HR intern hadn’t even finished peeling off the leftover paper lanterns when Meena entered the office — tall, statuesque, and completely unbothered by the curious glances.
She wore a crisp navy blue salwar kameez, her dupatta slung like a cape over one shoulder. Her bangles barely made a sound as she moved, her steps sure and solid. She wasn’t trying to look confident.
She was confident.
At 5 feet 9 inches and 90 kilos, Meena was used to occupying space. And when she stepped into the managing director’s cabin, she filled it with calm assurance.
Arvind Malhotra, on the other hand, was halfway through typing an email — perched on a high-backed chair that seemed to swallow him. At 5 feet 3 and a lean 63 kilos, he looked more like a professor than a CEO. Spectacles perched on his nose, hair neat, shirt neatly tucked in — except for the one moment when he looked up and forgot how to speak.
“You’re… Meena Rao?” he asked, standing up reflexively.
“That’s me,” she said, smiling.
He extended a hand. So did she.
Her handshake was firm — and his entire hand disappeared in her grasp.
His first thought: Oh, she’s strong.
His second thought: Why does that feel… comforting?
“Your Resume Is Impressive…”
Arvind fumbled through the rest of the meeting. Meena sat across from him, answering questions clearly, confidently, and without a hint of arrogance.
“Yes, I’ve handled logistics, calendar management, press relations, and occasionally carried unconscious interns to the first aid room.”
“…Carried?”
“Lifted and all,” she said casually. “Some of them faint at blood donation drives.”
He blinked. “Right.”
She was sharp — sharper than most people he worked with. And not afraid to take charge.
That both terrified and intrigued him.
By the end of the interview, he stood and nodded. “You’re hired.”
“I know,” she said, gathering her folder. “You need someone who can run your day and make sure you eat lunch. I can do both.”
And just like that, she walked out.
Mr. Arvind Malhotra, the 40-year-old managing director of ArvindTex Industries, was known for two things — his sharp business acumen and his unusually small frame. Standing at just 5 feet 3 inches and weighing 63 kilos, he wasn’t exactly an imposing figure in the boardroom. But what he lacked in physical stature, he made up for with commanding presence and precision.
His new secretary, Meena Rao, on the other hand, was a presence.
At 5 feet 9 inches and 90 kilograms, Meena wasn’t just tall — she was broad-shouldered, strong, and exuded quiet confidence. At 35, she had already spent years managing high-pressure offices with effortless grace, and it didn’t take her long to make the ArvindTex HQ her own.
Three Weeks Later…
Meena had become a force of nature in the office.
She fixed schedules, calmed clients, reorganized Arvind’s disaster of a filing system, and somehow managed to make the IT guy cry and thank her in the same hour.
She also never used the word “boss.” She just called him sir — but somehow, it sounded like a tease every time.
But what no one had expected was the way she managed Arvind.
Then came the fire drill day.
The alarm blared. Everyone panicked. And Arvind, distracted by his spreadsheet, barely realized the evacuation had begun.
Meena burst into his cabin.
“Sir, come on!”
“I just need to finish—”
She didn’t wait.
In one smooth motion, she scooped him up — one arm behind his knees, one behind his back — as if she’d done this a hundred times.
“What—MEENA !!”
“Too late, sir. You lost your chance to walk.”
He was pressed against her chest, his legs dangling awkwardly. His mouth opened and closed like a startled fish.
The entire office stared as Meena Rao walked briskly down two flights of stairs with her boss cradled in her arms like a very confused groom.
“Someone take a picture,” whispered a stunned employee.
“Don’t you dare!” Arvind barked, his face bright red.
Meena just grinned. “Relax, sir. You’re lighter than my 15 year old sister.”
When she finally set him down outside, Arvind adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
“I could’ve walked, you know.”
“You didn’t,” she said simply. “You panic when there’s too much noise.”
He opened his mouth to protest — then paused.
“…You noticed that?”
“I notice everything, sir.”
And with a playful salute, she turned and walked back toward the building.
Arvind stood there, heart racing, shoulders still tingling from the pressure of her arms.
He wasn’t sure what had just happened.
But he knew one thing:
His life at ArvindTex was never going to be the same again.
Weeks later, after a particularly tense board meeting, Arvind was pacing in his cabin, shoulders tense, muttering numbers.
Meena stood by the door, arms folded. “You’re overthinking again.”
“I’m not—”
Before he could finish, she walked over and gently lifted him into a bear hug, holding him off the ground.
“Meena !” he gasped, dangling in surprise.
“You need to calm down. Deep breaths.”
Oddly enough… it worked.
The Celebration Lift – “We Did It!”
The ArvindTex team had just closed their biggest deal of the year.
The staff applauded, champagne corks popped, and in the middle of the office, Arvind was modestly shaking hands.
Meena had other plans.
She ran up, grinning, and lifted him overhead like a trophy, spinning him around. “Boss of the year!”
Everyone erupted in laughter and cheers, and Arvind — blushing and dizzy — gave up resisting.
“Okay, okay, put me down!”
“Not until you say ‘I’m amazing,’” Meena teased.
“You’re amazing!” he yelled, laughing.
One afternoon, Arvind slipped on a wet floor in the hallway. It wasn’t serious, just a sprain, but he winced when he tried to stand.
Within seconds, Meena was at his side. “You’re not walking on that. You're Hurt !”
And just like that, she cradled him gently in her arms, holding him like a child.
“I’m fine—”
“No arguments.”
She carried him to his car, gently lowering him into the passenger seat, brushing his hair back without a second thought.
Another day at work - There was an important meeting with a major client coming up. Arvind was very busy preparing for his presentation. It got late. Arvind had fallen asleep on his office couch, documents spread all over him. Meena walked in to remind him to head home.
Seeing him asleep, she smiled. Quietly, she scooped him up, holding him close as he stirred slightly.
“Hmm… Meena?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Go back to sleep, sir,” she whispered.
She carried him to the elevator, shielding his head gently against her shoulder. As the doors closed, she looked down at him and softly said, “You need to let someone take care of you once in a while.”
He didn’t answer — but the small smile on his sleeping face said he heard her.
Meena and Arvind eventually became known not just for their work chemistry, but for their unusual friendship. A Different Kind of Balance. Their height and size difference stopped being a curiosity — it became part of the office folklore.
At ArvindTex, people didn’t whisper anymore when the tall secretary lifted her tiny boss. They just smiled and said, “There goes Meena — always lifting the company… and the boss.”
Something changed after that night Meena carried Arvind asleep.
It wasn’t just the way he started smiling more when she walked into a room…
Or how he stood just a little closer to her during meetings…
It was how both of them had begun to pause during their usual banter — as if waiting for something more.
The Boss getting Carried Away - It started becoming a routine.
If Arvind was late to a meeting, Meena lifted him out of his chair and carried him into the boardroom.
If he was sulking after a bad sales report? She scooped him up, walked him to the pantry, and sat him on the counter.
If he got too stressed? She picked him up like a toddler and made him breathe.
At first, he protested.
Then… he started enjoying it.
Especially the way she’d smirk slightly before a lift. Like she knew she had him — not just physically.
One day, after she deposited him onto the sofa after a particularly stubborn Excel battle, he looked up and whispered, “You spoil me.”
She brushed his hair off his forehead. “Somebody should.”
His heart fluttered.
One evening, Arvind’s mood was darker than usual. Numbers had slipped, an investor had pulled out, and an old mentor had passed away.
He sat at his desk, head down.
Meena didn’t say a word. She walked over quietly, placed her hand on his shoulder, and after a pause…
Lifted him onto her lap.
He didn’t resist.
She cradled him like a child — his head resting on her shoulder, her palm rubbing his back in slow circles.
“I don’t know how to be strong all the time,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to,” she replied softly. “That’s why I’m here.”
He closed his eyes and let her hold him.
Their closeness had become the worst-kept secret in the office. No one dared gossip openly, but everyone noticed the way Arvind smiled more, and how Meena never let anyone else serve him coffee.
The Rainy Day Confession –
One evening, caught in a heavy downpour without an umbrella, Arvind and Meena found themselves alone under the office porch. His car had gone for servicing.
“I’ll call a cab,” he said, shivering.
“You’ll catch a cold before it arrives,” Meena smirked.
And then, without warning, she bent down and lifted him onto her hip like a backpack, wrapping her dupatta around both of them.
“Better?”
“You always carry me around like I’m made of air.”
Meena smiled. “You kind of are.”
There was a pause. His arms naturally went around her shoulder, pulling her a bit closer. Their faces were inches apart, his glasses fogged up.
“I think I like it when you carry me,” he murmured.
“I know,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.
“Hold Me Tighter”, he just said.
And for the first time… there was no rush to put him down.
The next week, Arvind came in with a pulled muscle. He insisted on working, but Meena wouldn’t let him move around unnecessarily.
“I’ll take you to the conference room,” she declared.
“How? I can’t walk properly.”
She plopped him into his rolling chair and, with the confidence of a royal guard, pushed him down the hallway like a king on a throne.
“Is this how Julius Caesar felt?” he laughed, holding his coffee.
“Caesar never had a secretary like me,” she grinned.
Someone from HR walked by and muttered, “Power couple goals.”
Meena and Arvind exchanged a glance — but neither corrected them.
Then came the rooftop dinner.
It was her birthday. He surprised her with fairy lights, home-cooked food (yes, he tried), and a small gift — a delicate bracelet with tiny engraved letters: ‘For the one who carries me through it all.’
Tears pricked her eyes.
Without a word, she lifted him bridal-style and twirled him gently under the stars.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“With everything,” he replied.
They kissed.
As they talked under the stars, Meena suddenly asked, “Do you want me to stop carrying you all the time? People talk.”
He looked into her eyes seriously. “Only if you stop holding my heart too.”
She blinked. “That’s incredibly cheesy.”
“But effective?”
She smiled as she held him up bridal-style. She held him there tightly on her breasts.
“You do realize this means you’re mine now?” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Happily yours.”
And as they kissed under the moonlight, him nestled in her strong arms, it was clear — the lifting wasn’t just physical anymore. It was emotional, symbolic.
She carried him in every way a woman could.
Epilogue – Mr. & Mrs. Rao-Malhotra.
Two years later, Meena and Arvind’s wedding was the talk of the town.
Their wedding invitation read:
“You are cordially invited to witness the lifting of one heart by another.”
At the mandap, Meena lifted Arvind during the garland exchange, making the crowd roar with laughter.
During their first dance, she spun him in her arms like a child.
And during the photo shoot? He sat on her lap, smiling, while she kissed his forehead.
At the reception, instead of the groom lifting the bride, it was the tall bride who hoisted her tiny groom up for a photo-op, much to everyone’s delight.
Someone asked him, “Does it ever feel strange, being carried around by your wife?”
Arvind replied, “No. I spent my life carrying companies. Now it’s time someone carried me.”
And Meena winked, holding him tighter. “And I always will.”
The Stronger Half… Now officially a couple, their relationship was delightfully upside-down.
At a friend's wedding, she carried him in heels when he twisted his ankle.
At home, she picked him up and dropped him on the sofa when he refused to stop working.
He loved sneaking up behind her and hugging her waist — only to be flipped and held like a ragdoll until he surrendered with giggles.
“You’re the big spoon now,” he’d joke.
She’d lean in and whisper, “Always was.”
Carrying Each Other :
When Meena fell ill with a terrible fever, Arvind panicked.
She insisted she was fine, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes.
So, he wrapped a blanket around her, gently lifted her heavy legs onto his small lap, and spoon-fed her khichdi with trembling hands.
“You’re shaking,” she teased weakly.
“I’m used to being the cargo, not the crew,” he grumbled.
That night, he stayed up stroking her hair, whispering stories until she fell asleep.
For once, it was his turn to carry her — even if only emotionally.
They were a sight — unconventional, magnetic, and deeply in love.
“She’s the strong one,” he’d say.
“But you’re the one who steadies me,” she’d reply.
Life, Light, and Love.
Married life was full of lifts:
Piggyback rides at the mall.
Shoulder carries during power cuts.
Scooping him out of bed when he pretended to oversleep.
Carrying him in her arms just because he liked it.
One night, while lying in bed (him curled into her chest like always), he whispered, “Do you think people find us strange?”
She kissed his hair and replied, “They should be so lucky to feel this light in someone’s arms.”
He smiled and whispered, “Carry me forever?”
Her answer was simple:
“I already am.”
The End.
