Aarvi sat quietly in the chair, her injured knee still throbbing, but her heart pounding far more loudly than the pain.
Riyan stood a few steps away, trying to steady his breathing.
His confession — "you matter to me more than you should" — lingered in the air between them like a fragile truth neither could catch without breaking it.
Aarvi had never seen him this unsettled.
Not in meetings.
Not during stressful negotiations.
Not even when dealing with crises.
But now…
because of her…
he looked like a man fighting something he had no idea how to win against.
She swallowed hard.
"Why do you care so much, Riyan?"
His name slipped out unintentionally — soft, hesitant, but unmistakably personal.
His eyes snapped to hers the moment she said it.
A flicker of something warm, something almost painfully tender, passed through him.
"You've never said my name before," he murmured.
Aarvi's cheeks heated.
"I… I didn't mean—"
"I liked it," he said quietly.
Her breath hitched.
It was the truth.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
And too intimate for a room made of glass.
---
He finally sat down across from her
Not behind his desk.
Not in a position of authority.
But across from her — equal, human, vulnerable.
"I don't know when it started," he said softly.
"Maybe the day you walked in late and still apologized like the world was ending."
He paused.
"Maybe when I saw you working through lunch and pretending to smile."
Aarvi looked down, fingers twisting together.
He continued, voice lower now:
"Maybe it was the day I watched you walk home in the rain and realized it bothered me that you were alone."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide.
"You… watched me?"
He inhaled slowly.
"I didn't mean to. I stayed back late, looked out the window, and you were there. And I—"
He swallowed hard.
"I didn't want you to leave the building by yourself that night."
Aarvi's chest tightened unexpectedly.
No one had ever cared about her safety like that.
Not even family.
Not even friends.
He looked away, ashamed, as if his care was something he shouldn't admit.
---
The truth she saw scared her
"Riyan," she said softly, "you don't have to protect me."
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
"I know," he replied.
"But I want to."
Aarvi blinked rapidly, overwhelmed.
She didn't ask for this.
She didn't expect it.
She didn't know if she could handle it.
His protectiveness felt real — not possessive, not controlling —
just… human.
Deep.
Quiet.
Dangerous only because she was starting to feel it too.
---
A softness she'd never seen
Riyan leaned back slightly, rubbing the side of his forehead with his thumb.
"You think I'm strong," he said quietly.
"You think nothing affects me."
"Everyone thinks that," she whispered.
He looked at her, eyes shadowed.
"They're wrong."
Aarvi frowned softly. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired," he said.
"Tired of carrying everything alone. Tired of pretending I'm fine. Tired of building walls so high I can barely see out of them anymore."
Aarvi's heart clenched.
She had never heard him speak like this.
Never heard him confess anything remotely emotional.
He exhaled, looking away as if ashamed of his own vulnerability.
"People assume I'm unbreakable because I never show cracks," he said.
"But cracks don't disappear just because you hide them."
Silence filled the room — soft, painful, heavy.
Aarvi didn't speak.
She didn't know what to say.
But she did reach forward, slowly, hesitantly…
and placed her hand over his on the desk.
Riyan's breath caught audibly.
"Aarvi…" he whispered, stunned by the touch.
She didn't pull away.
Not this time.
"You don't have to hide from me," she said.
His fingers tightened beneath hers — gently, desperately — as if her touch was something he needed more than he knew how to admit.
"Don't say that," he murmured, voice cracking ever so slightly.
"Because I'm afraid I'll believe you."
Aarvi's breath stilled.
In that moment, she saw the man behind the walls —
not the CEO, not the billionaire, not the cold perfection —
but someone bruised by life, exhausted by loneliness, aching to be seen.
And without realizing it,
without wanting it,
without meaning to—
she had become the one person he let his guard fall for.