Aarvi walked out of Riyan's office like someone trying to escape a fire without making a sound.
Her legs felt unsteady.
Her chest felt too full.
And her mind replayed every word he finally said—
"Because I care about you, Aarvi. And I can't keep pretending I don't."
She sat at her desk, hands trembling against the keyboard, staring at the blinking cursor that refused to let her forget what just happened.
Riyan Malhotra — the man who didn't believe in emotions, didn't trust connections, didn't allow anyone to get close —
had admitted he cared.
Not professionally.
Not politely.
But personally.
Too personally.
Aarvi covered her face briefly, breathing in deeply.
She didn't know how to handle what she felt.
She didn't even know what she felt.
All she knew was that everything was different now.
---
Inside his office, Riyan wasn't doing any better
He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, jaw tense.
He hadn't meant to say it.
He hadn't planned to let the truth slip out in the quiet moment between her panic and his fear.
But the words had forced their way out because keeping them inside felt impossible.
And now…
he didn't know what happened next.
He had broken the one rule he created for his life:
never let emotions lead.
But with her, nothing obeyed his rules.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated by the vulnerability crashing through him.
He was Riyan Malhotra — he was not supposed to confess anything, to anyone.
Yet here he was, terrified of what she might do with the truth.
Walk away?
Distance herself?
Quit?
Just the thought made his chest tighten painfully.
---
The tension followed them through the day
Aarvi avoided his eyes.
Riyan kept glancing at her.
Whenever she stood, he noticed.
Whenever she sat down, he noticed.
Whenever her breath became uneven, he noticed.
He didn't call her into his office again —
not because he didn't want to,
but because he was afraid of cornering her.
Afraid she would see too much of what he was feeling.
Afraid she would step away before he could find the words to stop her.
---
But distance doesn't fix anything
By late afternoon, Aarvi's emotions finally overwhelmed her.
She stood up and walked toward the restroom, needing a moment alone.
She splashed cold water on her face, breathing shakily.
Why me? Why him? Why now?
She wasn't strong enough for this.
She wasn't ready for someone like him — someone who could break her without meaning to.
When she stepped back into the hallway, she didn't realize he was standing there.
Riyan.
Hands in his pockets.
A tension in his shoulders that mirrored her own.
Eyes searching her face the moment she appeared.
"You were gone for a while," he said quietly.
"I just needed a break," she replied, avoiding his gaze.
He stepped closer — slowly, like he was afraid of scaring her.
"Aarvi," he said softly, "if what I said earlier made you uncomfortable—"
"It didn't," she whispered.
His breath caught.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she added, "It just… scared me."
Riyan's expression changed — something like guilt mixed with something like hope.
"I didn't want to scare you," he said, voice thick.
"I just couldn't keep it inside anymore."
She finally looked at him, really looked at him.
And for the first time, she didn't see the CEO.
She saw a man who was terrified of losing something he hadn't even gotten the chance to hold yet.
"Sir…" she began.
"Aarvi," he corrected softly.
"When we're alone, don't call me that."
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer — not touching her, but close enough to feel his warmth.
"I'm not asking you for anything," he said.
"I'm just asking you not to run away from me."
Aarvi's eyes filled.
Not because she was sad —
but because caring about him hurt in a way she didn't expect.
"I'm not running," she whispered.
He inhaled slowly, relief softening his entire face.
"Good," he said quietly.
"Because I'm not letting you go anywhere."
That sentence hit her harder than any confession.
And for the first time, the truth neither of them wanted to face became impossible to ignore—
Whatever was growing between them wasn't stopping.
Not now.
Not anymore.