The Last Parcel
When love, promotions, and rotten deliveries collide.
At 5:30 p.m., Nick’s phone buzzed. It was Rhea.
“You forgot Priya’s birthday again. Shekhar has arranged a big party. You’re dead.”
Nick almost dropped the phone. His heart thumped. He darted his eyes across the office. The conference hall—where most celebrations happened—was already packed. Idiotic, bald and paunchy men in suits, or worse, his stupid bosses, sat there in a meeting.
Then his gaze shifted to the HR room. He froze. His hand went straight to his hair, pulling at it in frustration. Great. I forgot again. And Shekhar is about to steal her.
A sinking weight dropped in his stomach. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios: losing Priya, losing the much-desired promotion, losing the glorious life he had built in his wild imagination.
Nick knew if he didn’t win Priya in the next hour, Shekhar would—by the end of the party. And once Shekhar had Priya, the promotion would follow like free dessert after the main course.
“No way,” Nick muttered, clutching his phone tighter. His fingers flew over the screen. He had a plan.
Within seconds, he ordered a few items online. Then, without giving himself time to think, he headed straight toward the HR room.
***
As Nick walked into the HR room, he almost didn’t recognize it. Is this the same place where people cursed HR in their heads while pretending to like them with fake smiley emojis?
The front wall had a giant poster of Priya’s smiling face wishing her happy birthday. Balloons of every color fought for space with glittery stickers, as if the walls were trying too hard to party. On the LED TV—normally used by HR to spy on employees—played Priya’s life story, from a chubby kid in frocks to the woman standing here today. Of course, Priya had dumped her entire life on Instagram—like everyone showing off their so-called ‘good life.’
He scanned the room. No Priya. But the crowd gave her away—people swarming like bees around their queen.
The human wall parted.
There she was. Priya. Blue dress hugging her perfectly, curls brushing her shoulders, a tiny mole on her cheek that Nick had memorized from office meetings. Her eyes sparkled like she carried a private joke only she understood. When she smiled at him, it felt like someone had switched on all the lights in the room.
Nick’s chest tightened. He stepped forward—blocked by Shekhar.
White blazer, black trousers, shoes shiny enough to blind. Movie-star cheekbones, slick hair, and that permanent smirk, like he had bought the universe on EMI. He leaned behind Priya and did a little hip-thrust, like a street dog about to pound another.
Nick’s jaw locked tight. Not just Priya. He wanted the promotion, the corner cabin, my entire future. All while humping the air like a villain in a bad dance video. I cant let Priya fall for this street dog, he thought.
Priya waved again, but Nick barely noticed. His phone buzzed—delivery status: Arriving soon. His heart steadied.
“Is this your plan? To stand here and let Shekhar win?” Rhea’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Nick whirled. “What are you doing here? Did you finish the assignment?”
Rhea froze mid-bite, cheeks stuffed with doughnut and cream smeared on her face. Nick shook his head. She quickly licked it off and chewed, like a filthy snake swallowing an innocent frog.
Nick glared. “Fantastic. My empire is collapsing, and you’re eating like it’s Sunday brunch for snakes.” He threw his hands in the air.
She gulped, then burped. “What kind of boss doesn’t let his team enjoy a party?”
“The kind who refuses to lose to Shekhar.” Nick waved the burp fumes away, grabbed her shoulder, and pushed her toward the door. “Go. Thirty minutes left. And don’t mess up the assignment.”
As Rhea shuffled out, the delivery guy arrived. Nick’s heart leapt. Finally. He pointed toward Priya. The parcel landed in her hands.
Nick approached, trying to sound casual. “Happy birthday, Priya. Sorry for the delay—I was waiting for your gift before wishing you.”
She smiled, shook his hand. Nick gestured at the box. Shekhar’s smirk faltered. Nick winked.
Priya lifted the lid.
The room froze. Then—exploded.
A wave of stench hit the air, strong enough to kill houseplants. Balloons sagged. Women gagged. Men ran out with shirts over their noses. Someone screamed, “Gas leak!” and fainted like a Bollywood extra.
Nick walked to the source of the stench, holding his breath before it gave him a brain hemorrhage. On the table lay the culprit: a half-rotten black burger, lettuce turned ghost-gray, and pink sauce dripping like toxic waste.
Priya’s eyes watered so badly it looked like her eyeballs wanted to vomit. She stumbled back. A man fainted onto the cake table, flattening half the pastries. HR screamed—not for the people, but for the cake budget. Even years of employee curses had never made them cry this hard.
And then Shekhar swooped in. “A burger? Who gifts a burger on a girl’s birthday?” His voice was smooth, smug, untouched by the stink. He slipped his arm around Priya and led her away from the radioactive parcel.
Nick’s face burned. My big moment turned into a chemical attack. He fumbled for his phone and called the delivery service. They apologized and promised compensation.
“Compensation? I’ll make you eat that damn burger myself. Unless you can erase Shekhar’s smirk, keep the money.”
***
After the attendant dumped the burger in a dustbin, he sprayed enough room freshener to suffocate mosquitoes for generations. The party limped back to life.
Another man entered with a parcel—straight to Shekhar. He opened the box like a magician unveiling his trick. Inside: a strawberry cake, pink and perfect. Priya gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes sparkled—clearly, this one had landed.
Shekhar shot Nick a smirk sharp enough to cut steel.
Nick’s throat dried. He got the cake? Damn it, I also ordered one. He checked his phone frantically. Relief hit—another delivery guy appeared within minutes. Nick all but dragged him toward Priya.
“Sorry my cake arrived late,” Nick said, puffing out his chest. “But it’s your favourite flavour. Pineapple.”
Priya’s smile widened. She held Nick’s hand. “How did you know pineapple is my favourite?”
Nick only smiled, trying to look cool while his insides danced like a mad joker at a crowded circus. Shekhar’s jaw tightened—finally, Nick had scored one.
The attendant placed both cakes on the centre table. The tension was thick enough to frost. Priya would cut both, but Nick and Shekhar prayed silently—please let her start with mine.
As everyone gathered, Priya closed her eyes, made her wish. Nick and Shekhar also made wishes: both identical—erase the other forever.
The birthday song echoed. Priya took a knife and leaned toward Nick’s cake. Shekhar’s face fell. Nick’s grin widened—until the knife stopped halfway through.
Priya frowned, pushed harder. Stuck. She looked at Nick. He rushed closer, gallant. “Here, let me help.” Together, they pressed down, hands brushing. Shekhar’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
The knife didn’t budge. Nick urged her to pull it out and try again. She did—and something came out with it.
The room erupted. Screams. Gasps. One woman fainted on the spot. A man puked into the punch bowl. Someone yelled, “Call security!”
Nick’s eyes locked on the knife—and his soul left his body. Skewered on the blade was a frozen rat, limp and greasy, whiskers drooping like tragic party streamers.
Priya shrieked and collapsed, tossing the knife away. It sailed through the air and landed smack in the strawberry cake. Frosting splattered everywhere. Within seconds, both cakes were ruined.
Nick’s head spun. Perfect. I didn’t just ruin her birthday—I gave her a funeral cake.
Shekhar smirked, basking in the chaos. Priya was being fanned with tissues while Nick stood frozen, sweat dripping.
“Wow, what a plan to impress the birthday girl,” Rhea said, appearing out of nowhere to pat Nick’s arm. She scooped a fingerful of rat-smeared frosting, sniffed it, and shrugged. “This smells… dangerous. But tasty. “
Nick snapped. “What are you doing here? We’ve got fifteen minutes before the party ends. Did you finish the assignment?”
Rhea stuffed the rat-tainted frosting in her mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “What kind of boss makes you work on a party day?” Then, unfazed, she strolled out.
Nick groaned. Please God, let her be working and not just eating somewhere. His last hope rested on her.
Nick’s hands trembled. His plan had backfired again—spectacularly. He grabbed his phone, called the delivery service. They apologized, promised to compensate him.
Compensate? He said he’d stick the rat in a burger and make them eat it.
***
Shekhar played the guitar. He sang Priya’s favorite song. Then he gave her a handmade scrapbook filled with captions and memories. People clapped. Priya’s cheeks turned pink.
Nick wanted to scream. I’m losing. Shekhar looks like a cheap Bollywood hero. And I look like the bad villain in his movie.
But his phone buzzed.
Another parcel: Out for delivery.
Minutes later, it arrived. A giant teddy bear. Its one eye dangled lower than the other, and across its chest, in crooked stitches, were the words: happy birthday.
Nick rushed to help the delivery guy push the teddy across the room. It was less of a gift, more of a workout. People burst into laughter. Priya covered her mouth.
The teddy stood in front of Priya, towering over her. For the first time, Shekhar looked small and helpless.
“Sorry this gift came late,” Nick said proudly. He lifted the teddy’s arms and placed them toward Priya. She smiled and shook the teddy’s paw. Nick stepped back to click a picture.
And then the teddy moved.
Its big furry arms wrapped around Priya’s shoulders, pulling her close for the photo.
The office exploded. Screams bounced off the walls. Someone shouted, “It’s alive!” Priya’s eyes popped wide—she vomited the leftover disgust from the burger incident straight onto the teddy’s fur. The teddy screamed in disgust.
Nick’s knees buckled. Why is my gift hugging the birthday girl?
The chaos spread. Priya tried to wriggle free, the teddy chased after her, and soon everyone was running—first inside the room, then out into the hallway. Even the teddy joined the stampede, knocking over balloons and chairs on its way.
Nick grabbed his phone in panic. “You sent me a live teddy bear?”
On the other end, the delivery guy chuckled. “Sir, relax. It wasn’t alive. There was just a man inside it. The teddy itself is still dead.”
Nick’s eyes bulged. Dead teddy? Man inside? I’ll kill him! He wanted to jump through the phone and rip the guy’s scalp off. Instead, he took a deep breath. “I asked you not to send a typical teddy—that doesn’t mean you send a man stuffed inside it!”
The delivery guy apologized, and like always, promised compensation. Nick vowed to make the giant teddy-man eat the rat cake and the filthy burger as payback.
When Nick hung up, the room was empty. Everyone had fled. Only Shekhar remained, guiding Priya out like a hero saving the princess.
Nick’s chest tightened. This is it. I’m losing the girl. I’m losing the promotion. I’m losing everything.
But then his phone buzzed.
Last parcel: Out for delivery.
Nick’s heart jumped. This one has to save me. Please, please arrive on time.
***
Nick stood in the centre of the room, frozen. Shekhar was walking out with Priya, arm almost around her shoulders. Just before leaving, Shekhar turned, winked at Nick, and grinned. It was over.
Nick checked his phone. The last parcel showed Delivered. But there was no delivery guy in sight. His heart sank. This is it. I’ve lost.
Just then, the boss walked in. Behind him, the rest of the staff poured back into the room. He motioned everyone to gather in the centre. The air grew tense.
The boss walked straight up to Shekhar. Their eyes locked. Then—SLAP.
The sound cracked through the room. Shekhar clutched his cheek in shock. Gasps erupted. Priya froze.
The boss yanked a photo frame out of a box and shoved it at him. “You gift me this? You kissing my wife?” He turned it for all to see. It was Shekhar, caught in mid-smooch with the boss’s wife.
“Shekhar, is this fake? Photoshopped?” Priya hissed, her eyes darting between the two.
But before Shekhar could speak, Rhea’s voice rang out. “Nope. This one’s real.” She held up her phone, displaying the same picture. Everyone gasped again.
Priya turned to Shekhar. SLAP. Her handprint glowed red across his face.
Nick’s phone buzzed. He smirked and typed a quick thank-you to the delivery guy. The last parcel had been delivered to the right person—just in time.
He leaned down to Rhea. “What are you doing here? Is the assignment finished?”
Rhea gritted her teeth. “You care about that now?”
“Yes. One last step left. Finish it.” He nudged her toward the door.
Moments later, the delivery guy returned with his compensatory orders. Rhea quickly dragged him away before the crowd killed him. Nick almost sighed in relief.
Nick turned to Priya. “I’m sorry for earlier. Please… give me another chance. Come with me.”
She hesitated. Anger lingered in her eyes, but so did curiosity. Finally, she nodded.
***
Nick led her—and the entire office—toward the conference room. His chest pounded. If Rhea had pulled it off, this would be his redemption. If not… he was finished.
Rhea threw the doors open. “Welcome to Priya’s real birthday party!”
The room glowed. Photos of Priya playing piano as a child lit up the dimmed walls. In the centre sat a fresh pineapple cake, smelling sweet and safe. At the far end, the aroma of freshly baked burgers filled the air—this time edible.
Nick handed Priya a knife. “Don’t worry. This cake is perfectly fine.”
She smiled, lifted the knife—then music began. Not recorded. The giant teddy-man sat at the piano, its big furry paws pressing the keys.
Priya gasped. Her eyes softened. For once, she felt like the centre of the universe. At least for Nick. Tears shimmered as she held his hand and cut the cake.
Nick looked over at Rhea and gave her a thumbs-up. She had pulled it off. The delivery guy stood beside her, ears pinched in apology.
Nick turned to Shekhar, smirked, and winked. The boss didn’t hesitate. “You’re fired Shekhar.”
Cheers erupted. Shekhar stormed out, humiliated.
Nick didn’t just win Priya. He won the promotion too—like free dessert after the main course. Only this time, it wasn’t rotten or stuffed with a rat.
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