The law firm had a rare kind of morning—the kind that didn't feel like it was holding its breath before a storm.
Sunlight slipped through the tall glass windows, settling softly on desks and files, turning the usual chaos into something almost orderly. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, footsteps echoed—but none of it felt urgent. No hushed arguments. No sharp voices cutting through corridors. For once, the place felt calm.
Mahi noticed it the moment she walked in.
She slowed near the reception, fingers tightening briefly around the strap of her bag. Calm made her cautious. It always had. Still, she allowed herself a moment to take it in.
"Good morning, ma'am," the receptionist said, smiling in a way that felt unusually genuine.
"Good morning," Mahi replied. "You look happy."
The woman laughed. "No emergency emails since early morning. That's a win in itself."
Mahi smiled and headed toward her cabin.
Her desk was already arranged—files aligned exactly the way she liked them, a cup of coffee placed carefully to the right. She didn't need to ask who had done it.
"Nikhil," she said under her breath, shaking her head.
Almost on cue, he appeared at her door, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, holding a thin file.
"You're late," he said lightly.
She glanced at her watch. "I'm early."
"By normal standards," he replied. "Not by yours."
She raised an eyebrow. "Have you been keeping track of my habits now?"
"Someone has to," he said, stepping in and placing the file on her desk. "New arbitration case. Straightforward. No hidden traps."
She leaned back in her chair, studying him instead of the file. He looked different lately. Less guarded. Less weighed down.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For the file?" he asked.
"For everything else."
He nodded, understanding more than she had said.
Rishabh passed by the open door and stopped when he saw them.
"You two look dangerously calm," he said. "Should I be concerned?"
"Yes," Mahi replied immediately.
Nikhil smiled. "Always."
Rishabh chuckled. "Meeting at eleven. Try not to scare the juniors before that."
"No promises," Mahi said.
When he walked away, silence returned—but it wasn't uncomfortable. It settled easily between them, familiar and warm.
That familiarity unsettled her more than any crisis ever had.
The day moved smoothly, almost deliberately. Meetings ended without raised voices. Clients listened. Even opposing lawyers seemed less eager to push boundaries.
At lunch, Mahi found herself on the terrace with Nikhil, sharing takeout and quiet observations about the firm, the people, the strange rhythm they had fallen into.
"There was a time," Nikhil said, staring out at the city, "when this place felt like a war zone."
Mahi nodded. "It still does. Just quieter."
"Controlled chaos," he said. "Not reckless."
She smiled faintly. "I'll take that."
A pause followed—not heavy, not awkward. Just full.
"Nikhil," she said after a moment, her voice softer. "Does it ever feel strange to you?"
He looked at her. "In what way?"
"That we're here," she said. "After all the things we didn't say. All the times we chose silence."
"And now?" he asked.
"Now it feels… right," she admitted. "And that scares me."
He didn't brush it off. Didn't joke.
"It scares me too," he said.
The honesty lingered between them, fragile and real.
That evening, the firm marked its recent wins quietly. No grand celebration—just shared smiles, relaxed conversations, a sense of earned relief.
Mahi stood near the window, watching the city lights come alive.
"You vanish at events," Nikhil said, joining her.
"I observe," she corrected.
He handed her a glass of water. "I know."
Their fingers brushed briefly. Accidental. Unavoidable.
Across the room, Rishabh noticed. His smile dimmed just slightly before he turned away.
Later, when most people had left, Mahi found herself walking toward the elevator with Nikhil.
"Walk me out?" she asked.
He nodded.
The elevator doors closed, enclosing them in quiet.
"Mahi," he said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"There are things I should've said a long time ago."
Her breath caught. "Nikhil—"
"Not now," he added gently. "Not yet."
She exhaled, relieved in a way that surprised her. "Good. I don't want rushed truths."
He smiled—soft, unguarded. "Neither do I."
The doors opened.
They stepped out side by side, not touching, yet closer than they had ever been.
Everything was going well.
And somewhere deep inside, both of them knew—that was exactly when things began to change.