Aarvi didn't know why her chest felt heavier as she walked out of the office.
Maybe it was exhaustion.
Maybe it was confusion.
Maybe it was the way Riyan's eyes had followed her — steady, focused, softer than anyone would believe.
She stepped into the elevator and exhaled shakily.
She needed distance.
Just a little space to breathe…
to understand why being around him felt like standing too close to a fire she didn't know how to survive.
But what she didn't realize was that upstairs, in the dim light of his office, Riyan was standing completely still — watching the elevator doors close as if they were taking something important away from him.
---
He had never felt this vulnerable
For years, he had kept emotions out of his life like unwanted guests.
Feelings were distractions.
Distractions led to mistakes.
Mistakes were dangerous.
He lived by that philosophy.
Until her.
Until the quiet girl whose presence pulled his world into a different orbit.
Riyan leaned against his desk, breathing slowly, but his chest felt tight — too tight.
She's becoming a weakness, he realized.
And I don't know how to stop it.
He rubbed his forehead with the edge of his palm, irritated at himself.
He was Riyan Malhotra — a man who built empires on control.
And yet one woman had just walked out of the building… taking his composure with her.
---
Aarvi tried to forget the feeling
She sat in the bus, watching the city lights blur through the window.
Her mind refused to settle.
Why did he look at her like that?
Why did he keep stepping closer?
Why did he say things no boss should ever say?
She pressed her forehead against the cold glass.
This can't happen, she told herself.
You can't afford feelings. You can't afford mistakes. You can't afford him.
But the truth she couldn't escape was simple —
she wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of herself.
Afraid of how she reacted.
Afraid of how her heart softened around him.
Afraid of how safe she felt in moments that weren't meant to be safe.
---
Meanwhile, Riyan couldn't ignore it anymore
He checked his watch.
8:52 p.m.
She should have reached home by now.
He shouldn't care.
He shouldn't check the time.
He shouldn't think about her safety.
But he did.
Before he realized, he was dialing his driver.
"Follow Miss Sharma's bus route," he said. "Make sure she gets home safely."
The driver hesitated. "Should I inform her—?"
"No," Riyan said sharply. Then softer, "No. Just make sure she reaches."
He ended the call and sank into his chair.
He wasn't proud of the decision.
He wasn't even sure it was the right thing to do.
But the thought of something happening to her tonight made something inside him twist in a way he couldn't ignore.
---
Aarvi didn't notice the quiet protection
Her phone buzzed.
Mother: Come home early tomorrow. Doctor wants to discuss something.
Fear filled her stomach instantly.
Another test?
Another bill?
She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Why did life keep pushing her to the edge?
She got off at her stop and walked the narrow lane toward her building, unaware of the black car parked discreetly at a distance… or the man inside silently ensuring she reached safely.
Riyan watched until she entered the gate.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe again.
---
Later that night, he sat alone in the darkness of his apartment
The city lights were a blur outside his window.
He poured himself a drink he didn't touch.
His mind was full of only one thing —
the way she had looked tonight, confused, fragile, overwhelmed.
And the way a part of him wanted to pull her away from every struggle, every fear, every burden she carried alone.
He had never cared like this.
Not for anyone.
It was reckless.
It was dangerous.
It was unlike him.
But the truth, as unwelcome as it was, settled in his chest quietly:
Aarvi Sharma had become his weakness.
Not because she asked for it.
Not because she tried.
But because she existed in a way that disarmed him completely.
And Riyan Malhotra had no idea how to fight something that gentle.