The morning light draped itself lazily across the Malhotra dining room. The air smelled faintly of roasted cumin and lemon.

Poha was served warm and fresh.

The family sat gathered at the long table, the morning rituals playing out like any ordinary morning. Except, it wasn't.

Not for Vedant.

He entered a few minutes after Diya, his steps slower than usual, as if still dragging traces of a moment he couldn't quite let go of.

His heart was still tapping an uneven rhythm in his chest, thanks to a certain girl who had now shifted her attention to breakfast and was lazily toying with her food.

Diya had greeted everyone with a soft smile when she entered, then bent to press a gentle kiss on Misha's forehead.

The little one squealed at the sight of her.

To Misha, this was still a treat, Diya appearing like magic. Her tiny innocence, still hadn't wrapped her head around the fact that her E-yaa wasn't just visiting anymore.

Every time she saw Diya in the house, her face lit up with the joy of a surprise, convinced it was just another fleeting visit.

Diya brushed the fine strands away from that curious little face, before easing into her chair.

She had expertly tucked away what happened upstairs into a corner of her mind she didn't plan to revisit.

But Vedant wasn't that skilled. Not today.

The sunlight caught the edge of his collar as he sat beside her, subtly observing without letting his gaze linger too long.

She was pushing the poha around with her spoon, absent mindedly nudging the peanuts instead of eating them.

And then, almost hesitantly, she lifted a peanut to her mouth and bit down.

He saw it.

The slight twitch in her jaw.

She wasn't eating it naturally or out of craving. She was forcing herself.

He hadn't served himself yet. His plate lay empty in front of him. Without a word, he reached for the poha bowl and scooped a serving onto his plate.

But his movements weren't casual. They were deliberate.

He sifted through the yellow grains with a quiet precision, nudging each peanut aside like they were landmines hidden in plain sight. His fingers moved with care, making sure not a single one trespassed onto the plate he was preparing.

Then, without a word, he reached out and took hers.

Her hand froze mid air, spoon hovering just inches above her plate. She turned to him, the softest crease of confusion in her brow, but he offered no explanation.

In the next breath, Vedant had already slid her half eaten plate away from her and replaced it with his own, carefully curated, peanut free one.

And he did it so seamlessly, so gently that no one noticed. The conversations at the table never paused. But something in them did.

Then? He began eating from her abandoned plate.

From the one she had been quietly suffering through.

Diya looked down at the new plate, then up at him, her breath caught somewhere between surprise and... something else.

He didn't meet her eyes. He simply kept eating, like it was the most natural thing in the world to take her discomfort and quietly make it his.

Because peanuts never sat well with him either.

The moment between them had just begun to settle when his mother's voice drifted gently over the soft clatter of breakfast plates.

"Why don't you both take a few days off?" she said with a warm smile, fingers curling around her cup of tea.

"You just got married, the rituals have been non stop and you both look exhausted. Not to mention we still have the pag phere and reception left."

Her tone was light, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable. The kind that came from years of observing her children far too closely.

Vedant exhaled slowly. "Maa, I have work."

She chuckled under her breath, eyes twinkling like she already knew exactly where this was headed. "Beta, I know how much work you have."

He glanced away, avoiding her gaze. Not because he was annoyed, but because he knew she'd read far too much.

"You've always been responsible. But right now, you both need rest. Go in today if you must... but take a few days off. For the rituals. And for yourselves."

She didn't command it. But it still wasn't a suggestion. The affection in her voice softened the edge but didn't dull it.

So Vedant nodded. He knew resistance was pointless.

"Okay," he murmured, sighing softly as the word left him.

And Diya? The second she saw him give in... she knew she'd lost the battle too.

So she nodded, more out of helplessness than agreement.

Not because she wanted to. But because she didn't know how to explain that taking leave wasn't so simple.

She didn't know how to speak up in a house where she still felt like a guest. So she said yes having absolutely no clue how she'd pull it off.

They finished the rest of breakfast in silence, their shoulders tight with the quiet frustration of two people who had planned to keep this marriage at arm's length... through work, through absence. And now, even that escape had been momentarily shut.

After breakfast, they walked to the main door together, their steps quiet, unhurried.

Vedant wanted to offer her a ride himself, he almost did. But something held him back.

Maybe the fact that it was her office. Her space. And he didn't want to cross into it uninvited.

So instead, he took the quieter route.

He'd already told their family driver to drop her wherever she needed to go. He knew she'd object, say she'd take a cab. But he also knew she wouldn't win this one.

The door clicked shut behind them. The morning air outside kissed their skin, crisp and cooler than usual.

"I've asked the driver to drop you," he said, tilting his head toward the black sedan parked out front. "That one's yours."

Diya paused mid step, her eyes flicking to the car, then she looked back at him. "Thank you," she said gently, "but I'll take a cab."

"How is that any different?" He asked.

"It just is," she said simply.

He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that disguised strategy.

"Kshitij is already waiting. The car's ready."

Vedant knew exactly what he was doing.

"Driving is his passion. I'll be breaking his heart if I tell him there's no ride today."

And it worked like a charm.

Because diya paused, thought for a moment... and gave in.

"Fine," she murmured. "But please don't ask him to drop me everyday. I don't like people doing things for me."

Vedant nodded, solemn on the outside, while his mind was already scheming new ways to guilt trip her into accepting it.

They parted at the doorstep with a silence that lingered. No goodbyes, no backward glances.

Just two figures retreating into separate cars, separate rhythms, separate mornings.

Or so it seemed.

Until—

“Mr. Malhotra.”

Her voice was calm, contained, yet unmistakably clear, like the hush before rainfall.

He turned instinctively, eyebrows lifting. She was already walking toward him, each step unhurried but certain.

Her face held composure but there was something just beneath it— restless and unspoken.

Like she hadn’t planned to call out. But did.

"I... I need to say something," she said, the words faltering as she came to a stop in front of him.

He glanced down, noting the way her fingers gripped the straps of her bag like a lifeline.

"Go ahead," he said, voice low, gentle, careful not to startle whatever fragile thing had pushed her to speak.

She didn’t speak at once. Her eyes dropped, lashes sweeping down as though the words were delicate things she had to gather first.

"I didn't really mean to say yes about the leave," she said, words tumbling out too quickly.

"I mean, I can try," she added, her tone more cautious now "but my leave probably won't be approved. Articles don't get a lot of leaves."

She took a pause.

And then softly said.

"I didn't know how to explain this inside. So... I'm telling you."

It wasn’t the words. It was the softness behind them. The way she folded herself into that admission. The way her voice lowered like it wasn’t meant for the world, just for him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched her, something quiet and sharp curling inside his chest.

And maybe she didn’t mean it that way, maybe it wasn’t even a choice, but it felt like one. A small act of trust dropped gently at his feet.

Vedant was silent for a beat, watching her carefully, absorbing the quiet panic beneath her calm.

"I'll talk to Maa," he offered gently.

Her head lifted, startled. That wasn’t what she meant. He saw it even before she said—

"No," she said quickly. "She meant well. That's not what—"

She trailed off, the words slipping through her fingers.

Because somewhere between her thoughts and his eyes, she’d forgotten why she was saying any of it at all.

He didn't break eye contact.

And then—

"Where do you work? I'll speak to your boss."

His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

The kind that didn’t ask, it decided.

There was something resolute in the way he said it, like the solution was already assembling itself in his mind.

Diya blinked, confused. “What?”

“Where do you work?” he repeated, voice low but steady.

She was caught off guard by the question. It felt oddly sharp, like it had skipped a few steps in the conversation.

“Whitestone Consulting,” she replied, still catching up.

And just like that, Vedant Malhotra froze— for the second time that morning.

"Whitestone Consulting."

The words landed softly, but something inside me recoiled, like I’d just touched something electric.

I blinked. Surely, I misheard. The universe wasn’t that unhinged.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice quieter now, taut. “Can you… say that again?”

She looked puzzled but repeated it anyway. “Whitestone Consulting.”

And then— I stopped breathing. Yet again.

No. That couldn’t be—

"Whitestone Consulting?" I asked again, slower this time, needing her to undo what I just heard.

She nodded. “Yes. Whitestone Consulting.”

And just like that, the world collapsed into a single, sharp pinprick of disbelief.

My firm.

My building.

She worked there.

She had been walking the same halls, breathing the same air, beneath the same roof— and I hadn’t known.

The gravity of it pulled me under, slow and relentless.

She looked at me, brows knit in confusion, misreading the storm unraveling within me. “I know it’s a really reputed firm,” she added, voice cautious, “but you don’t have to look at me like that. It’s not… a big deal.”

Not a big deal?

Right. Of course. Totally normal. She works for me. In my own goddamn firm. And I had no idea.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. She checked it and sighed. “I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I should go.”

She turned to leave.

But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I just watched her take a step away from me, and it snapped something in me.

I reached out, my fingers curling around her wrist, gently but firmly. She stilled.

“Come with me,” I said, my voice steady but barely masking the storm unraveling beneath it.

“Wait— what? Where?” she asked, brow furrowed.

I didn’t pause. Couldn’t. “We’re going to meet your boss.”

She blinked. Like the sentence didn’t compute. Like her brain couldn’t catch up with my recklessness.

“I’ll talk to him,” I said, gripping the words like a lifeline, hoping they’d anchor me before everything in my chest spun out of control. “About your leave.”

Her face contorted in disbelief. “Why would you do that?! And why would my boss listen to you? I’ll just use my sick leaves, you don't have to do anything.”

I could’ve laughed if I wasn’t so caught in the absurdity of the moment. “And what will you do when you actually need those sick leaves?”

Though I hope she’d never need them— those sick leaves. I still said it. I needed her to understand.

She shook her head, stubborn as ever. “No, it’s fine. I’ll manage. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re coming with me,” I muttered, still holding her wrist, walking toward my car like this wasn’t unraveling my whole damn life.

She dragged her feet in resistance. “What about Kshitij? Driving was his passion, wasn’t it?”

I unlocked the car with a soft click. “Yeah,” I said, opening the passenger door for her. “It’s mine too.”

She didn't move. Just stood there with her arms crossed. The breeze tugged at her hair softly.

“Don’t you have work?” she asked, suspicion written all over her face. “Why would you come with me?”

I didn't even bother defending myself. “I don't really have work.”

She gave me a look. The kind that said try harder.

“Get in,” I said, my hand still on the door.

“Why?”

I exhaled slowly. “Aren’t you getting late?”

“I am,” she said pointedly, “because of you.”

I nodded, like that settled something. “So get in.”

She huffed, frustration slipping through the cracks. “Why are you like this? Always so stubborn?”

I met her gaze and asked quietly, “Then why can’t you just listen to me… and get in?”

She stared, those wide, infuriatingly honest bambi eyes fixed on mine.

After what felt like years trapped in a single breath, she broke the stare… and got in.

I walked around and slid in beside her.

“This is absolutely not how the morning was supposed to go,” she said, fastening her seatbelt. “You’re not making sense. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

And I did.

I wasn’t making sense.

I didn’t want to make sense.

Because logic would mean pulling back, acting indifferent, pretending like this didn’t hit somewhere very specific in my chest.

But instead, I was driving her to my office. To her boss. Who was… me.

And she had no idea.

“How’s your boss, by the way?” I asked, breaking the silence, trying not to laugh at the irony.

She scoffed, still thoroughly annoyed. “Haven’t met him. But I’ve heard he’s decent. Kind, even.”

Then she gave me that look. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to take advantage of his generosity.”

I coughed. “Right. Of course not.”

If only she knew—

She was married to that ‘decent guy.’

And he was currently gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing it.

Roughly ten minutes in, the silence had settled again, comfortable for her, unbearable for me.

I tapped the steering wheel, once, before finally asking.

“How’s the firm?” I said, keeping my gaze locked on the road. “You like it?”

She nodded, thoughtful. “It’s intense, but it runs well. Everything’s… efficient. People know what they’re doing.”

I nodded, pretending her answer didn’t affect me. “And your colleagues?”

She leaned back, voice casual. “Mostly nice. Some smart. Some loud. Half of them are just obsessed with how hot our boss is.”

I nearly swerved the car.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as she grabbed the edge of her seat.

I cleared my throat. “Fine. Totally fine.”

I wanted to ask—

Do you think so too?

But I didn’t say it.

Just clenched my jaw and drove straight ahead. Eyes on the road.

Thoughts… all over the place.

“They’ve never even met him,” she added. “He’s barely on that floor.”

Barely. Right.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen him either?” I asked, voice as calm as I could manage.

“Nope,” she said. “Some say he’s a myth. Others say he’s a workaholic who lives in his cabin. Personally, I think he’s just allergic to social interaction.”

I almost laughed.

Because she wasn't wrong.

“So, hypothetically,” I said, turning onto the street that led to the office, “if you did meet him one day… what would you say?”

She looked at me for a second too long. “Probably that I need more leaves.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Fair enough.”

She gave me a suspicious side eye. “Why the interrogation? You’re oddly curious today.”

“I just want to know if the person you work for deserves the way you talk about him.”

"He does." She replied instantly.

I wasn’t sure who was in deeper trouble— him, or me.

When we reached the office gates, she glanced up at the glass towers of Whitestone— my blood, sweat, and maybe tears too— then back at me, hesitation flickering across her features.

“You can drop me here,” she said, fingers already brushing the door handle.

“Not before I meet your boss,” I murmured, steering past the main entrance and pulling into the private parking bay.

The engine fell silent. And with it, so did she.

Her confusion was instant. “You’re not supposed to park here. And— don’t you have your own office to get to?”

I didn’t respond. Just watched her quietly, letting the silence say what I couldn’t yet.

“You can’t just meet him like that,” she added, her voice gentling into reason. “You need an appointment.”

“I don’t need appointments,” I said nonchalantly.

She turned to me like I’d just kicked a puppy in front of her.

“I didn’t expect this from you,” she said stunned.

“Me neither,” I murmured truthfully, before turning and walking ahead.

Her footsteps followed a second later, hesitant but close.

We reached the elevator lobby, my steps unhurried, hers unsure.

I led us straight to the far end, where only one lift stood, separate from the rest.

My elevator.

But just as I was about to press the button, she tensed beside me, grabbing my arm.

“This is the CEO’s elevator,” she whisper hissed, scandalized. “We can’t take this one.”

I pressed the button anyway. “Says who?”

Her jaw dropped. “Everyone! It’s strictly off limits!”

The doors slid open, smooth and silent, like they had been waiting for me. I stepped in and held it open for her.

“Come on,” I said.

She looked around, panicking. “No. I’m serious. We’ll get caught.”

I tilted my head, leaned closer. “Who’s going to tell your CEO that we used his elevator?”

Her eyes widened. “You can't be serious.”

She stepped in behind me, reluctant, already regretting life decisions.

“This is blasphemy,” she whisper yelled as the doors slid shut.

“I accidentally took it once and I’ve never recovered. I still get flashbacks. Nightmares. And you? You don’t even work here! How are you so casual about this?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve used this elevator before?”

She flushed. “It was my first day. I didn’t know.”

Interesting. Very interesting.

“Well,” I said, hands in my pockets, watching her freak out in real time, “if it helps... I’m sure he forgave you.”

She dropped her face into her hands. “You’re unreal. Who even does this?”

Apparently, I thought as I leaned back, catching our reflection in the polished steel— the woman I married does.

Every second in that humming silence carved itself into my memory, like it knew it was writing history.

“You look guilty,” I teased.

“I am guilty,” she muttered, arms folded tight. “Do you even get how bad this will look if someone sees us step out of this elevator together?”

I turned to her, gaze slow and deliberate. “Let them.”

Before she could blink the meaning away, the elevator chimed— 27th floor.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, she hesitated, one foot still inside. I didn’t wait.

I stepped out, like I owned this place. Because well... I did.

Her eyes scanned the space like she was entering forbidden territory.

"How did you even know his floor?" She asked.

I glanced over my shoulder, lips twitching, “I assumed.”

The silence on my floor embraced us. Morning light spilled in through towering glass panels, painting golden streaks across the polished marble.

At the far end, my office stood in quiet command— still, sharp edged, waiting… like it already knew we were coming.

I walked with purpose.

She scrambled behind me with panic.

“Mr. Malhotra,” she whispered harshly, her heels clicking faster as she tried to catch up, “please— this isn’t a good idea. You can’t just barge into his cabin like this!”

I didn’t stop. If anything, I slowed down just enough to hear the rising pitch in her voice. Her panic was... strangely adorable.

She tugged at my sleeve lightly. “You don’t understand! How will I explain who you are? What if he gets mad? This could literally ruin everything for me!”

I bit back a smile.

She didn’t even realize the irony in her words.

But I didn’t tell her. Not yet.

Some things are too delicious to serve all at once.

The closer we got to my cabin, the more her steps slowed.

I pushed the door open.

She didn’t move.

One step— that’s all it would take for everything to shift.

I could feel the hesitation radiating off her as her breath hitched, her footsteps faltering behind me. I held the door for her.

She stepped in hesitantly, like she was walking straight into a trap, eyes scanning every inch of the room— sleek, silent, untouched. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing our fate.

I leaned against the desk, arms folded, watching her quietly unravel.

Then came the panic.

“He’s not even here! We’re in his cabin without permission. Without an appointment. I’m going to get fired. This is how it ends.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re being dramatic.”

She spun toward me, already pacing in tight little circles. “You’re making this impossible, Mr. Malhotra. Instead of approving my leave, he might just assign me weekend audits as punishment!”

I chuckled under my breath. Weekend audits as punishment? She thinks I’d do that?

I glanced around my own cabin— the one she thought belonged to some faceless CEO she was terrified of. The same cabin she just barged into… panicking about ruining her job.

She stood rigid now, hands clenched at her sides. “We need to go,” she whispered urgently. “Please— before he walks in and thinks I’ve completely lost it—”

I turned toward her, voice calm. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Her eyes widened. “What’s the worst— Mr. Malhotra, I could get blacklisted. Black. Listed. I’ll be remembered as that girl who trespassed into the CEO’s cabin for the rest of my articleship. Do you realize how unhireable that makes me?!”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t trespass,” I said lightly. “You walked in very politely.”

“With you!” she yelled, every word in lowercase, like her panic didn’t want to cause a scene but absolutely needed to be heard.

“I don’t even know how to introduce you to him—

‘Hello, sir. This is Mr. Malhotra… my— well— he’s married to me… he arrived unannounced, dragged me into your cabin like it was his own, as if rules are mere decorations for other people.’”

I asked, amused.

“Dragged you?”

“You practically abducted me!”

I turned leisurely, letting my gaze settle on the black leather chair behind the desk— my chair.

There was something deliciously ironic about watching her stress out in my territory, in a room she thought belonged to someone else.

“Relax,” I said, voice smooth as silk. “You’ll get your leave.”

She shot me a look. “And how exactly are you planning to pull that off?”

“You said your boss is kind, didn’t you?” I tilted my head, just enough to annoy her. “He might say yes.”

She groaned, hands flying up. “Not if he sees me trespassing in his cabin like this, committing workplace crimes before 10 a.m.”

I glanced at my watch, voice calm, precise. “He should be here any minute now.”

She froze. Horror bloomed across her face, wide eyed and breathless. “Oh no. No, no, no. We have to leave. Now.”

I let the silence stretch... just enough.

Then I said, “Too late.”

She inhaled sharply, eyes snapping to the door. “What? Is he here?!”

I merely shrugged, lounging back against the desk like this was nothing but a passing breeze.

This... was better than any Monday meeting I could’ve ever planned.

Then came the knock.

Before she could bolt to the window and jump out of it, the door opened, and in walked Arnav— my ever reliable PA.

Diya turned to him with the wide eyed look of someone about to get professionally exiled.

I straightened and said casually, “Why isn’t your boss here yet?”

Her gasp could’ve shattered glass.

Before Arnav could even blink, she rushed in, “I’m so sorry. He’s new. Please don’t mind him. He’s...he doesn’t know how this works.”

I stared at her, stunned...and amused. “New?”

She elbowed me discreetly.

Arnav glanced between us, visibly confused but wisely choosing silence. I gestured him to play along.

Then he turned to Diya. “Are you Diya Sharma? The new article transfer from Sehgal & Co.?”

So everyone knew except me?

Diya nodded, face tomato red.

“Hi,” Arnav said kindly, “I’m Ve— the CEO’s P.A., Arnav.”

I raised an eyebrow. He almost slipped. Not bad, though— good save.

Still lounging casually against the desk, I asked, “So when does your boss arrive?”

“He should be here any minute,” Arnav replied with a perfectly neutral face. And then, because the universe really does love me— he gave a fake start, pulled out his phone, and said, “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me and her alone in a silence that felt way too satisfying.

She looked like she was about to sink into the floor. “Why... why did you do that?” she finally whispered.

“Relax,” I said, walking toward the bookshelf, dragging my fingers along the wood.

“You call this relaxing?” She said seriously. “Do you have any idea how many protocols we’re violating just by breathing in here?”

“Three? Four? You’d know better. You’re the article,” I replied with a shrug.

She looked like she was about to launch a stapler at me.

I stifled a chuckle and picked up a paperweight from the table, inspecting it. “This guy’s got good taste. You think he imported this from Italy?”

She didn’t respond. She was too busy pressing her palms together like she was praying for invisibility.

“I swear to god,” she hissed, “he’s going to walk in and I’ll never work in this city again. I’ll have to move to Goa. Sell postcards.”

I leaned forward. “Your boss can’t be that scary.”

She blinked at me.

“He’s very professional, okay? Strict. Respected. People— people prep for days before meeting him!”

I tilted my head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Sounds terrifying. What’s his name?”

The question landed between us with the force of a dropped pin in a cathedral.

She stared.

Opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Glanced at the ceiling like maybe God had a flashcard up there.

“I— uh— I don’t know?” she admitted. My brows rose slowly. “You… don’t know your boss’s name?”

“I just joined two weeks ago!” she yelled, her voice lowercase but her panic in full caps. “Articles don’t meet the CEO! We just survive and hope our team leads don’t eat us alive!”

I bit back a laugh, failing miserably. “So you’re telling me… you’ve been working in Whitestone Consulting… you have heard of how scary the CEO is… but you don’t know his name?”

“Not everyone is obsessed with hierarchy, Mr. Malhotra,” she snapped, cheeks fully crimson now. “We don’t get CEO newsletters with selfies and fun facts, okay?”

“Can you maybe… ask your colleague his name? You know, just to see if I know him or not.” I suggested.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion blooming in them. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “Curiosity. Maybe I’ve met him. Might help with your leave if I’ve got some connection.”

She hovered on the edge of skepticism before sighing in defeat, pulling out her phone like it weighed guilt. “This is so embarrassing,” she mumbled.

She dialed. The line rang once.

“Hi… hey, um, random question,” she said, trying to sound breezy and failing adorably. “What’s the name of our CEO?”

Pause.

A silence thick enough to butter.

“You’re kidding, right?” came the flat voice from the other end.

“No.” She replied awkwardly.

Longer pause. The kind that screams judgment.

Then, like a verdict being read aloud:

“It’s Vedant Malhotra.”

Diya turned to me slowly, blinking like her brain was buffering.

“This is so weird,” she whispered, eyes flicking from my face to her phone like she was cross referencing reality. “You won’t believe it, but… my boss has the same name as you. Same surname too.”

Oh, angel.

You’re killing me.

You really don’t see it, do you?

“Really?” I said, feigning mild surprise, lips twitching. “What are the odds? Maybe he even has the same face as me. Why don’t you Google him? Just to be sure.”

She gave me a look like you can’t be serious, but clearly, her sanity was on thin ice, so she tapped open her browser.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard like the truth might burn them. Then, slowly, she typed:

Vedant Malhotra Whitestone Consulting.

Enter.

The screen bloomed with truth.

Her phone lit up with my LinkedIn profile first. Then an article from Forbes. And a picture of me at some leadership summit.

She froze.

I watched her blink— once, like it might clear the hallucination.

Then again, as if the world might rewrite itself on the second try.

It didn’t.

Her lips parted, a question dancing on the edge of breath. But all that came out was silence.

Then finally, in a voice worn raw with disbelief:

“This is a joke, right?”

I could’ve dragged this a little longer, but she deserved the truth now.

“Not even close,” I said, my voice low, serious.

And I swear… I saw it hit her.

The weight of it.

The full blown tsunami of realisation crashing over her— her boss, her CEO, the man she’s been panic whispering about for the past twenty minutes… was me.

The man she’s married to.

Her eyes didn’t move. Her body didn’t twitch. She just stood there— completely, utterly frozen. Like time had hit pause on her nerves.

I could practically hear the mental slideshow playing in her head:

‘Mr. Malhotra, we can’t take the CEO’s elevator!’

‘He might make me work on weekends!!’

If I wasn’t slightly terrified of her upcoming reaction, I would’ve smiled. But right now? I just watched her.

Waiting for her to blink.

And then—

“No. Nope. No no no,” she mumbled, backing away. “This isn’t— this can’t be happening.”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

She needed to let it burn through.

She was pacing now. her eyes darting everywhere like she was searching for a reset button on reality.

“This means— wait— you’re my boss?!”

“I guess,” I murmured, shrugging, though my eyes never left her face— watching her grasp at the edges of a reality that had just shifted under her feet.

She let out a quiet sound— somewhere between a laugh and a breath of disbelief—then buried her face in her hands.

Then, after a beat, she moved toward the door— not running, not bolting, just... retreating. “I’m transferring firms.”

I stepped in without thinking, placing myself between her and the exit.

“Denied.”

She stilled. Her shoulder lightly brushed the door as she leaned back against it, as if it might hold her up.

Then, finally, she looked at me. Not angry. Not panicked.

Just tired.

Emotionally unravelled.

“Great! K!ll me now,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

And for the first time that day— I didn’t feel like teasing her back.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

So... are we in for the office romance now? 👀

This chapter has been the most anticipated chapter of my book, and honestly, I felt the weight of that while writing it.

I’m not sure if it lived up to your expectations, but I hope it made you feel something. 🧸

Let me know your favourite moment in the comments 💗

Don't forget to vote and drop a comment 💬

ig: @authorem_

Thanks for reading.

– M 💌