Aarvi spent the rest of the day trying — and failing — to steady her heartbeat.
No matter how many emails she typed or files she organized, her mind kept wandering back to the conversation she and Riyan weren't ready for.
I'm not used to caring.
I'm not used to people stepping into my life.
His words lingered in her chest like a quiet storm.
Why did he say them?
Why did he let her see that part of him?
And why did it scare her more than it comforted her?
She didn't want dependency.
She didn't want expectations.
Not when life had taught her that nothing stayed, and no one did either.
But with Riyan… everything felt different.
Stronger.
More dangerous.
---
Inside the office, a man wrestled with himself
Riyan stared at the untouched papers in front of him.
Numbers refused to make sense.
Meetings felt pointless.
Every thought kept circling back to one thing—
Aarvi.
Her tired eyes.
Her quiet resilience.
The way she said I don't want to be a burden as if her existence was something people tolerated.
He hated that.
Hated that she believed it.
Hated even more that he couldn't stop thinking about her pain.
This wasn't who he was.
He didn't get involved.
He didn't care personally.
Yet here he was, planning things he shouldn't be planning.
Finally, he made a decision — one that surprised even him.
He picked up his phone.
"Connect me to the HR director."
---
Minutes later…
Aarvi was stapling reports when the HR director approached her desk, holding a document.
"Miss Sharma," she said gently, "your medical support application has been approved."
Aarvi blinked in confusion.
"Approved? But I never submitted one."
The woman frowned. "It was filed this morning… directly by the CEO."
Aarvi's breath caught.
Her hands went cold.
Riyan had done it.
He had crossed a line again — deeper than before.
"W–Was this authorized?" she whispered.
"Yes. He signed it personally," the director said. "Your mother's tests and treatment will be covered under the company's emergency support program."
Aarvi felt the air leave her lungs.
Her mother.
Covered.
Relief washed through her so fast her eyes burned.
But right behind that relief… came fear.
And confusion.
And something dangerously warm.
Why was he doing this for her?
Why her, out of all people?
---
She walked straight to his office
Riyan was at his desk, flipping through a file, but the moment she entered, he looked up as if he'd been waiting for her.
She closed the door behind her, heart pounding.
"You signed a medical support form for me," she said quietly.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't look apologetic either.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you needed it."
Aarvi swallowed hard.
"That's not an answer."
He stood, walking toward her slowly, each step measured.
"I don't need a reason to help someone who deserves it."
"This isn't help, sir. This is… life-changing. You didn't even ask me."
"You would've refused," he said simply.
And the worst part?
He was right.
She would've refused.
Because she didn't want to depend on anyone.
Her vision blurred with tears she tried to blink away.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "If you keep doing things like this, I won't know where to draw the line."
Riyan stopped just inches away from her.
"Aarvi," he said softly, "maybe the problem is that there was never a line to begin with."
Her breath caught.
He exhaled slowly, controlled, but heavy with emotion he couldn't hide anymore.
"And I can't keep pretending this is just professional," he added.
Aarvi froze.
The words she feared…
The words she wasn't ready for…
The words that could change everything—
Finally slipped into the open.
---
The decision he made… wasn't about rules anymore
It was about her.
About what he felt.
About what he could no longer control.
Aarvi stepped back, overwhelmed, not because she didn't feel something — but because she did.
Too much.
Too fast.
"Sir… I don't know how to handle this," she whispered.
"Neither do I," he said quietly. "But that doesn't make it any less real."
Their eyes stayed locked, suspended in a moment that felt both terrifying and impossible to escape.
For the first time, the truth sat between them —
unavoidable, undeniable.
And it was only the beginning.