Aarvi returned to the top floor, her legs still slightly unsteady from the meeting. The office felt quieter now—dim sunlight slipping between the blinds, the day slowing down but her thoughts speeding up.
She sat at her small desk outside Riyan's office and exhaled slowly.
Her first day… and she hadn't been fired.
That alone felt like an achievement.
She opened her notes to prepare the summaries, trying to focus, but her mind kept wandering back to his tone on the call.
"I said I don't want to talk about her."
Who was this woman?
Why did the mention of her harden him instantly?
Aarvi shook her head. It wasn't her business. She was just here to work, earn, breathe, survive.
Still… curiosity had a way of sneaking in, even where it shouldn't.
She was typing quietly when the door behind her opened. She stood up immediately.
Riyan walked out, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He didn't look like the untouchable CEO at that moment—he looked… tired.
Exhausted, even.
He placed a file on her desk. "Send this to the finance department."
"Yes, Mr. Malhotra."
As she reached for the file, their fingers almost touched. She pulled back instinctively, but he paused—just for a fraction of a second.
As if he felt something too.
Something unfamiliar.
Something unwelcome.
He was the first to look away.
Before leaving, he added, "And Miss Sharma… don't overthink what you heard earlier."
Aarvi froze.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Had he seen it on her face?
Was she that transparent?
"I—I wasn't overthinking anything," she lied, badly.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Not angry, just… knowing.
"Good. Focus on work."
Then he left.
But the truth was, he was the one who looked distracted.
Not her.
---
Later That Evening
It was almost 7:30 p.m. when Aarvi finally packed up. Her back ached from sitting too long, but she didn't care. She needed this job more than she needed sleep.
The office was now mostly empty. Only a few cleaners walked around.
As she stepped into the elevator, she checked her phone—three missed calls from the hospital.
Her breath caught.
She hurried outside and called them back, her hands trembling.
"Hello? This is Aarvi Sharma—my mother is admitted there. Is everything okay?"
The nurse's voice was calm. "She's fine for now, but we needed confirmation for today's medication charges."
Aarvi's throat tightened.
"Please continue her treatment. I'll manage the payment."
She hung up with shaky fingers.
The fear of losing her mother crept back into her chest like cold water.
She blinked hard, swallowing the burn of tears.
Not now.
Not outside this building.
Not when her first day had gone well.
She wiped her eyes quickly and turned—only to freeze.
Riyan stood near the exit.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
She hadn't even heard him come out.
His gaze dropped to her hands—the ones still shaking slightly from the call.
"Everything alright?" he asked, voice low.
No judgment.
No coldness.
Just a question.
A simple question.
But it felt too heavy for her fragile composure.
"Yes," she said quickly. "Everything is fine, sir."
It wasn't.
And maybe he knew that—because his eyes didn't move away from her face.
"You should go home," he said after a moment. "It's late."
She nodded and began walking toward the gate, her steps hurried. But halfway, she stopped.
Why was her chest hurting so much?
Why did a stranger's simple concern feel comforting?
She didn't turn back.
She didn't want him to see the tears she was fighting.
Behind her, Riyan watched silently.
He didn't understand why he asked if she was okay.
He didn't understand why her voice—soft, breaking a little—stayed echoing in his head long after she left.
But he understood this:
He had made rules.
Strict ones.
Cold ones.
And he had already broken the first one.
Don't get involved.