The rhythmic tapping of Reyansh's fingers against the polished surface of his desk was the only sound in his office. The documents in front of him had long stopped making sense — numbers and words blurring into lines of distraction. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, cold and impersonal, much like his office itself.
His phone buzzed once, the soft vibration breaking his focus. Without much thought, he picked it up — and then froze.
A photo.
It was a cake — simple but perfectly crafted, the frosting clean, the edges delicate. And beneath it, a message in her familiar tone:
Waiting for you.
For a long moment, Reyansh simply stared at the screen.
The faintest smile ghosted across his lips. It wasn't amusement — it was something quieter, deeper. Something that had begun to take root in him ever since Arina had walked into his life.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on the picture. He could almost imagine her — standing in that bright kitchen, a strand of hair falling across her face as she wiped flour from her fingers. She probably smiled when she took the photo. She always smiled — soft, patient, and a little shy.
He hadn't expected this… whatever this was.
He had married her to fill the quiet spaces of his life with something that resembled warmth. He never expected her presence to alter the rhythm of his days. Yet, somehow, it had.
Her voice, her small gestures, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching — it all carved into him slowly, like water shaping stone.
Her soft touches that lingered longer than necessary.
Her laughter that made the silence of the house bearable.
Her small efforts — to make him comfortable, to bridge the distance.
Reyansh exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
He didn't know what to name this feeling.
He had always been good at categorizing emotions — affection, lust, curiosity, loyalty — all neat compartments in his mind. But with Arina, the lines blurred. She was warmth and calmness, yet also danger — because she had become something he couldn't easily let go of.
He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on the photo once more.
You were once a light in the dark, Arina.
But now, you're the light I can't lose.
His phone vibrated again — but this time, it wasn't her. The door to his office burst open with an unnecessary amount of force.
Reyansh's jaw tightened. "Do people here forget what knocking means?"
A familiar, irritatingly cheerful voice answered, "Only when it's me."
He didn't have to look up to recognize that tone.
Manav.
Of course.
Reyansh looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. "I could've been in a meeting."
"Good thing you weren't," Manav replied, grinning as he dropped himself into the chair opposite the desk without invitation. "You're impossible to reach these days. Thought I'd surprise you."
Reyansh sighed, rubbing his temple. "You didn't surprise me. You interrupted me."
Manav crossed his arms, studying him quietly.
"I still can't believe it, Rey. You told me about the marriage, but I thought it was one of your decisions made out of logic, not emotion."
Reyansh finally looked up, his eyes unreadable. "It started that way."
Manav's grin faded into something gentler. "And now?"
Reyansh didn't answer, but his gaze drifted briefly toward the phone on his desk — toward Arina's photo. That said enough.
Manav smirked. "So, how's the wife? What's her name again— Arina?"
Reyansh didn't reply immediately. His expression didn't change, but his fingers paused their movement on the desk.
"Yes," he said finally, quietly.
Manav's grin widened. "That's all I get? Yes? Come on, man, at least tell me if she's the type who tolerates you or the type who rules the house."
"She's…" Reyansh hesitated for half a second — and that was unusual for him. "Different."
"Different?" Manav echoed. "As in—sweet? Complicated? Dangerous?"
Reyansh gave a small, unreadable smile. "A bit of all three."
Manav chuckled. "That's your type then. So, when do I get to meet her?"
"Manav—"
"No, no. Don't even try to say no. I'm coming with you tonight."
Reyansh gave him a flat look. "You're not invited."
"Didn't ask for an invitation."
Reyansh's patience was thinning. He leaned back, his tone quiet but firm. "You'll call before you come. If she's not comfortable—"
"Oh please," Manav interrupted, grinning. "She'll be fine. I just want to see what kind of woman managed to domesticate you."
"Manav," Reyansh said sharply. The edge in his tone made the air between them shift.
The grin faded from Manav's face for a brief second before he recovered with a laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll be on my best behavior."
Reyansh returned to his work, though the faint annoyance didn't leave his face. "You never are."
Manav leaned back, studying his friend. "You always said you'd do things your way, but now… married? And smiling like that?"
That made Reyansh still for a heartbeat. His eyes flicked toward the phone again, where the image of Arina's cake still glowed faintly.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Because for once, Manav wasn't wrong.
When silence stretched too long, Manav exhaled. "Alright, I'll shut up. But seriously, man — she must be something special if she made you like this."
Reyansh's gaze hardened slightly, though there was no real anger in it. Just something possessive.
"She is," he said quietly.
And that was the end of it.
Manav looked at him for a moment longer, curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he didn't push. He stood up, dusting his jacket. "Fine. I'll text you before I come over. Tell your wife to make something sweet — I have a feeling she's good at it."
Reyansh didn't reply. His mind was already drifting back — to Arina, to the picture, to her voice when she said waiting for you.
When the door closed behind Manav, Reyansh leaned back again, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't like unplanned interruptions. He didn't like anyone walking into his personal life. But with Arina, the rules were… different.
He wanted her close — not because he had to, but because he couldn't imagine otherwise.
He picked up his phone again and typed a short message:
Keep the cake safe for me. I'll be home soon.
And when he hit send, a faint, rare smile curved his lips.
He wasn't just going home —he was going back to her.
---
"Even in silence, she makes me smile like no one else can."