The car ride to the hospital was quiet.
Not the uncomfortable kind of silence —
the kind that felt heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Aarvi sat in the passenger seat, fingers twisting together in her lap. She kept staring out the window, afraid that if she looked at him, she'd lose the courage she was barely holding on to.
Riyan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting tensely on his thigh. His jaw was set, eyes focused, like he was heading into something he couldn't afford to lose.
Neither of them spoke.
But everything between them spoke anyway.
---
At the hospital
The smell of disinfectant hit Aarvi the moment they stepped inside.
Her shoulders tensed.
Memories she didn't want rushed back — long nights, worried doctors, unpaid bills, silent prayers.
She slowed her steps instinctively.
Riyan noticed immediately.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't push her forward.
He just adjusted his pace to match hers.
That small thing — that quiet consideration — did something to her chest she wasn't ready for.
At the reception desk, the nurse looked between them.
"Patient name?"
"Meera Sharma," Aarvi answered softly.
The nurse typed quickly, then looked up.
"You're late. The doctor's waiting."
Aarvi nodded, heart pounding.
Riyan placed a hand at the small of her back — gentle, respectful — guiding her toward the hallway.
"You don't have to face this alone," he said quietly.
Her throat tightened.
---
Inside the doctor's office
The doctor spoke calmly, professionally, explaining test results, medication changes, future procedures.
Aarvi listened, but the words blurred together.
More treatment.
More care.
More money.
Her chest felt tight. Her vision blurred.
Riyan noticed.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Doctor," he said calmly, "what's the immediate priority?"
The doctor explained again — this time slower.
Riyan asked questions.
Clear.
Focused.
Protective.
Not once did he look impatient.
Not once did he act like it was an inconvenience.
Aarvi watched him from the corner of her eye.
This wasn't the cold CEO.
This was a man paying attention — fully, deliberately — to something that mattered to her.
And that realization shook her.
---
After the appointment
They stepped out into the corridor.
Aarvi stopped walking.
Her shoulders sagged, the weight finally catching up to her.
Riyan turned immediately.
"Aarvi?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"I didn't want you to see this side of my life."
He frowned gently.
"Why?"
"Because it's messy," she said.
"And unfinished. And exhausting."
He studied her for a moment.
Then, quietly — without drama —
"This isn't a weakness," he said.
"This is love. Responsibility. Strength."
Her eyes filled.
She shook her head.
"I feel like I'm always failing."
Riyan stepped closer.
"You're surviving," he corrected softly.
"And that's not failure."
Her breath hitched.
---
The moment that changed everything
At the billing counter, Aarvi froze when she saw the amount.
Her fingers trembled.
Before she could speak, Riyan stepped forward.
"I'll handle it," he said.
She turned to him sharply.
"No. Please don't."
He looked at her — not as a boss, not as a savior — but as someone who genuinely cared.
"Aarvi," he said quietly, "let me do this."
Her voice shook.
"I don't want to owe you."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"You don't owe me anything. This isn't a transaction."
The words settled deep in her chest.
She watched as he paid — no hesitation, no drama.
And for the first time, she didn't feel small or pitied.
She felt… supported.
---
Outside the hospital
They stood near the entrance, the sun warm on their faces.
Aarvi finally looked at him — really looked.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Not just for the money… for being here."
Riyan met her gaze, his expression unreadable but gentle.
"I'd do it again," he said.
"And again."
Her heart stumbled.
In that moment, something inside her shifted.
She didn't see him as just her boss anymore.
She didn't see him as just the man who made her nervous.
She saw him as someone who showed up — quietly, steadily — when it mattered.
And that terrified her.
Because if she let herself believe in that…
She might never want to let him go.