The rest of the day felt… different.
Not because of anything dramatic, but because everything simple suddenly carried weight.
When Aarvi walked past his office, she felt his gaze follow her — not intrusive, but aware.
When she handed him a file, their fingers brushed for a second too long.
When she spoke, he listened… really listened.
It terrified her.
It confused her.
It made her feel things she didn't have space for in her already breaking life.
But at the same time…
a small part of her felt seen.
And she hadn't felt seen in a very long time.
---
By evening, the office was quiet
Most employees had left early for a corporate event.
Only a few lights glowed across the floor.
Aarvi stayed behind to finish a pending email Riyan needed for the next morning. She typed quickly, determined, focused — anything to avoid thinking about the man sitting thirty steps away.
But thoughts disobeyed.
Every time she blinked, last night's elevator moment replayed.
Every time she inhaled, she heard his quiet confession —
I'm not used to caring.
I don't want to lose you.
She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.
This was getting too personal.
Too fast.
Too real.
---
He broke the wall first
It was past 8:30 p.m. when Riyan stepped out of his office, loosening his tie the way he did when the day drained him.
"Aarvi."
His voice echoed gently across the quiet floor.
She looked up, startled.
"Yes, sir?"
"You're still working."
She nodded. "I wanted to finish the report you asked for."
"You could've done it tomorrow."
"I know, but I didn't want you to wait for it."
Something in his expression softened — something that made her heartbeat skip.
"You don't have to consider me like that," he said quietly.
"But I do," she replied before she could stop herself.
His eyebrows lifted slightly — surprised, touched, unable to hide the emotion that rushed through him.
Aarvi looked down quickly, embarrassed.
---
He walked closer
Not enough to intimidate her.
Just enough for the tension to become unmistakable.
"Aarvi," he said softly, "you don't owe me anything… beyond your work."
She shook her head.
"That's not why I do it. I just… don't like disappointing people."
He studied her, eyes narrowing with an emotion she couldn't decipher.
"Who made you feel like that?" he asked.
The question hit her unexpectedly.
Raw.
Personal.
A little too close to the truth she kept buried.
Aarvi forced a small smile.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does," he said.
Her chest tightened.
"Sir, please… don't make this harder for me."
He stopped.
"Harder?"
"This… whatever is happening, it's confusing me."
Her voice cracked softly.
"And confusing you too. I can see it."
He didn't deny it.
He couldn't.
Instead, he looked at her with a quiet intensity that felt like a confession of its own.
"You're not wrong," he said.
"You confuse me. And that's exactly why I can't ignore it."
Aarvi's breath caught.
The space between them felt too small
too warm
too dangerous
too intimate.
---
The moment spiraled deeper than either expected
"Aarvi," he said gently, "if this ever becomes too much for you… tell me. I don't want to be the reason you feel overwhelmed."
She swallowed hard.
"You're not overwhelming me."
"Then what am I doing?"
She hesitated.
And then, softly — painfully softly — she whispered:
"You're getting close."
The words hit him like a force he didn't see coming.
Close.
Too close.
Close enough to matter.
He stepped back—not out of rejection, but out of self-control he was fighting to keep.
"I'm trying," he said quietly.
"I'm trying to stay within the lines I set."
"You already crossed them," she whispered.
His eyes flickered with truth he couldn't hide.
"So did you."
Aarvi froze.
He wasn't wrong.
She felt it too.
She just didn't know what to do with it.
---
The moment ended, but the shift didn't
Riyan inhaled shakily and stepped toward his office.
"Go home early today," he said, his voice softer than ever. "I'll arrange the remaining work."
"But—"
"No arguments," he added gently. "You need rest."
Aarvi nodded, heart unsteady.
As she packed her things, she glanced at him one last time.
He was leaning against the doorway, watching her leave with a look she couldn't misinterpret anymore.
Not professional.
Not distant.
Not cold.
Just… personal.
And that was the moment everything changed.
Not because of a confession.
Not because of touch.
Not because of words.
But because for the first time, they both knew —
They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.