That night, Rudra sat in his apartment, staring at his phone.
The city outside glowed silver under the rain. The apartment was quiet — too quiet.
He should've been working, but his thoughts kept drifting back to that moment in his office.
The soft touch.
The kiss.
The way Ayaan's eyes had widened like he couldn't believe it happened.
Rudra sighed and leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his hair.
He'd promised himself not to text first tonight.
He needed to look composed. Normal.
But his thumb hovered over the screen anyway.
After several failed attempts at writing something casual, he gave up and typed one simple line:
Rudra: You left without finishing your coffee.
He stared at it for thirty seconds. Then added another:
Rudra: …It got cold.
Almost instantly, three dots appeared.
Then—
Ayaan: (laughing emoji) Did you just text me about coffee, Mr. Malhotra?
Rudra exhaled, typing back quickly.
Rudra: You made it. I was commenting on its… quality.
Ayaan: Mm. Quality control again? 😉
Rudra's lips twitched despite himself.
Then Ayaan sent another message — softer this time:
Ayaan: You seemed tired today. I hope you ate.
Rudra hesitated. Then, breaking his own rule again, typed:
Rudra: I did. And… thank you. For earlier.
A long pause.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Ayaan: For what?
Rudra's hand stilled over the keyboard. He typed, deleted, typed again.
Then finally sent—
Rudra: For making it hard to breathe.
A minute passed. No reply.
He groaned softly, covering his face.
What was that supposed to mean?
But then the screen lit up again.
Ayaan: …Good. Because you do that to me too.
Rudra froze, heart skipping.
He typed only one word back before turning off the lights and sinking deeper into the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Rudra: Sleep.
But long after midnight, both of them were still awake — hearts restless, screens glowing softly in the dark.