Riyan didn't usually linger in his office after hours. He hated silence—it reminded him of things he spent years burying. But tonight, he found himself standing at the window long after Aarvi left, staring at the empty hallway she'd walked through moments earlier.
It bothered him.
How easily her absence shifted the atmosphere.
How her presence earlier had softened something he didn't intend to soften.
He told himself it meant nothing.
He was just tired.
Overworked.
Distracted.
But the echo of her voice—light, uncertain, grateful—kept replaying like a stubborn memory refusing to fade.
Why did she carry all those files alone?
Why didn't she ask for help?
Why did it bother him so much that she didn't?
He exhaled sharply, annoyed at himself.
---
Meanwhile…
Aarvi walked toward the bus stop, hugging her bag close to her chest. The night air was cold, and her thoughts were louder than the traffic passing by.
Every moment with Riyan today replayed in her mind like a movie she didn't ask to watch.
The way he quietly caught the falling files.
The way he walked beside her.
The way his voice softened without warning.
It didn't make sense.
Men like him didn't soften.
And certainly not for women like her—temporary, replaceable, struggling.
Aarvi shook her head and boarded the bus. She couldn't afford to misread anything. Not in this job. Not with him.
---
Back in the office…
Riyan finally picked up his phone, dialed a number he rarely used.
"Send someone to check the CCTV recordings on the 12th floor hallway," he ordered.
"Any issue, sir?" the security head asked.
"No."
A pause.
"Just routine."
It wasn't routine.
He wanted to see when she left.
Whether she looked tired.
Whether anyone bothered her on her way out.
As soon as the recording loaded, he watched silently.
There she was—walking alone, rubbing her cold hands together, adjusting her bag strap, glancing back as if uncertain of something.
She looked small.
Too small for the weight life had put on her shoulders.
His jaw clenched.
He closed the laptop abruptly and leaned back in his chair, annoyed by the strange heaviness sitting in his chest.
"Ridiculous," he muttered.
"She's just an employee."
But the truth he refused to admit slipped through the cracks he couldn't control:
She wasn't just an employee.
Not anymore.
---
The next morning
Aarvi entered the office early, hoping to avoid another awkward moment. But the first thing she saw was a takeaway cup on her desk.
Warm. Fresh.
With her name written on it.
Her breath hitched.
Before she could process it, Riyan's voice came from behind her.
"It's only because you stayed late yesterday," he said without looking up from the file in his hand. "Don't assume anything else."
She nodded, though her heart reacted in a way she couldn't control.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
Riyan didn't respond.
But as he walked into his office, he allowed himself one small, quiet truth—
He had never bought coffee for an employee before.