Aarvi tried to pretend the morning felt normal.
She typed faster than usual.
Stared harder at the screen.
Ignored the warm cup of coffee sitting beside her—though her fingers kept drifting toward it like it was calling her name.
It wasn't the coffee.
It was what it meant.
No one had ever bought her coffee before.
Not as a gesture.
Not without expecting something in return.
But Riyan… he didn't expect anything.
He didn't even look at her after giving it.
And somehow, that made her chest ache in a way she wasn't prepared for.
---
Inside his office
Riyan kept re-reading the same paragraph for five minutes straight.
He wasn't distracted.
He refused to call it that.
He simply… noticed things today he usually ignored.
Like how quietly Aarvi organized files.
How she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear.
How she whispered "thank you" so softly he almost missed it.
The smallest things stood out.
Annoyingly so.
His world had always been predictable—meetings, numbers, deals. The people around him blurred into the same faceless routine.
But she didn't blur.
And that unsettled him more than he liked.
---
"Sir, the client wants to reschedule—"
Aarvi stepped into his office, holding a folder.
Riyan looked up at her, and for a moment, he forgot what she said.
He blinked once, regaining his composure.
"Reschedule to when?"
Her cheeks warmed under his sudden attention. "Um… Friday, sir. They—"
"That's fine," he cut in gently.
Gently.
A word he had never used on purpose.
Aarvi wrote down his confirmation and turned to leave, but her hand brushed the edge of his desk, knocking over a pen holder.
Pens scattered everywhere.
"I'm so sorry—" she gasped, bending quickly to pick them up.
But Riyan was already kneeling beside her.
Their hands reached for the same pen.
They froze.
Her fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, unexpectedly gentle.
Aarvi looked up.
Riyan was already looking at her.
Something shifted in the air.
Quiet.
Unspoken.
Dangerously close to something neither of them admitted.
He cleared his throat and stood abruptly, breaking the moment.
"You don't have to pick those up. I'll do it."
"But sir, it was my—"
"Aarvi."
His tone softened again.
"Just… leave them."
She nodded uncertainly and stood, placing the last pen on the desk. When she stepped back, Riyan's eyes followed her—not with anger, not with impatience…
But with something that made her heartbeat stumble.
---
Later that afternoon
Aarvi stepped outside to take a call from the hospital.
Her mother's condition required another test.
More expenses.
She tried to keep her voice steady, but emotion cracked through.
Riyan wasn't trying to listen. He had only stepped out of his office at the wrong moment.
But the break in her voice froze him.
He turned slightly, watching her from a distance.
Her eyes were lowered, her lips trembling as she whispered into the phone:
"I'll manage… somehow."
A word he despised—somehow.
It meant she was struggling alone.
Again.
He didn't know why it bothered him.
He didn't know why he clenched his fists or why his chest felt heavier than a moment ago.
But he did know one thing:
Aarvi wasn't just changing his routine.
She was starting to change him.
And Riyan Malhotra never allowed anyone that kind of power.