[Author's POV]
The first light of morning creeps in, pale and cold. Priya hasn't slept, her eyes sting, her head aches, and her pillowcase is still damp from the tears she tried to hide even from herself. Her father's words replay in her mind, each one pressing like a bruise that refuses to fade. She forces herself to get up, but every movement feels heavy, as if her body is carrying the weight of something she can't set down.
Across the city, Aarav wakes to the dull throb in his right hand. The cloth wrapped around it is stiff with dried blood, and when he flexes his fingers, the pain sharpens like a reminder of his own temper. His room smells faintly of last night's whiskey, the glass on the floor catching the weak sunlight in fractured glints.
Neither of them speaks a word to anyone that morning. Priya makes her tea but doesn't drink it. Aarav lights a cigarette but lets it burn in the ashtray. Different rooms. Different battles. Yet both wear the same expression — tired eyes, clenched jaw, a quiet refusal to admit just how much the night before still clings to them.
[In his mansion]
In the dining room, Aarav's father sits with the file open in front of him, steam curling from his cup of tea. Plates are set, food untouched. His mother, Madhavi, isn't seated. She stands by the hallway, eyes flicking toward the staircase every few seconds. She's waiting.
When Aarav finally comes down, he's already dressed for work, in black suit. The bandage on his right hand is tucked neatly into his sleeve, but the stiffness in his movements gives him away. He doesn't glance toward the table. His steps are brisk, headed straight for the front door.
Before Madhavi can say anything, his father's voice cuts through the room sharp and loud.
"I'm giving you ten days to make your decision. If you don't, I'll do what I want."
Aarav freezes for half a second, his jaw tightening. The words hit like a fresh blow. He doesn't respond. His stride only quickens as he reaches for the door.
"Aarav! Aarav beta, at least have your breakfast!" Madhavi calls after him, her voice full of worry.
But he doesn't look back. He's already outside, slipping into his car. The engine roars to life, and within moments, he's gone leaving nothing but the faint scent of his cologne and the tension he carried with him.
Madhavi stands in the doorway, watching until the car disappears from sight. Only then does she turn back, her face tight with frustration. She walks to the dining table, her tone sharp as she addresses her husband.
"Why did you do that? He didn't even have breakfast, he didn't have dinner last night because of you!"
Her husband slams his palm against the table, the sound making the dishes rattle. He pushes his chair back and rises to his feet, his expression hard.
"Shut up. Just shut up! He's being childish, and you keep encouraging him."
The paper lies crumpled on the table between them, the food still untouched, the morning already soured.
Aarav's grip on the steering wheel is tight, the leather pressing against his bandaged palm. Every turn of the wheel sends a dull ache up his arm, but he doesn't loosen his hold. The city blurs past his windows bright signs, honking cars, people on sidewalks none of it registers.
His father's voice keeps replaying in his head. Ten days. The number is like a countdown ticking in his ears, faster and faster with each breath. He bites the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to focus on the road instead of the urge to turn around and throw every word back at him.
The knot in his chest doesn't ease, not even when the glass façade of the company building comes into view. By the time he parks, his jaw aches from clenching it so long. He steps out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary, his reflection in the car window catching the faint glint of anger still in his eyes.
Today will not be an easy day.
On the other hand, Priya climbs into the back of an auto-rickshaw, the faint smell of petrol mixing with the morning air. The driver nods when she gives the company's address, and the small three-wheeler jerks into motion, weaving through the early traffic.
She leans slightly out, letting the breeze lift a few strands of hair from her face. The city's chaos, the horns, the shouting vendors, the endless motion feels almost comforting. At least here, nothing stands still long enough to sink into the heaviness she left at home.
Her father's words still hurt, but she tells herself she can't carry them to work. Not today. This is her promotion. Her step forward.
For a moment, she even smiles small, but real as the auto turns toward the road leading to the company building.
[ Aarav's POV ]
The office is quiet this early, too quiet. My desk is a mess of untouched papers, the pen lying useless in my left hand. My right, wrapped in fresh bandages, still throbs from last night, each pulse a reminder of how quickly anger can turn into pain.
And then I see her the moment she walks in. My Love.
She crosses the floor with that same calm, steady stride, the soft sway of her dupatta brushing against her arm. She doesn't look toward me, not yet. She reaches her desk, the one right across from my cabin, sets her bag down, and starts aligning her files like the world depends on perfect edges.
The morning light catches in her hair, making a few loose strands glow. I can't stop watching her hands, the way they move quick, precise, certain. For a man who's been carrying the weight of last night like a stone in his chest, it's... oddly grounding.
And then, it happens. Her head lifts. Her gaze tilts toward my cabin.
Our eyes don't meet, not directly because she can't see past the tint in my glass from this angle. But I see her. The slight pause in her movement. The flicker of awareness in her expression.
For a moment, the ache in my hand is gone, replaced by something else entirely, a quiet pull in my chest that's as frustrating as it is impossible to ignore.
She looks away just as quickly, but the ghost of that glance stays with me warm, infuriating, and impossible to shake.
[Author's POV]
As she places her bag down, a flicker of motion catches her eye. A shadow, tall and deliberate, shifts inside the cabin. She blinks, leaning slightly to get a better view, but the glass keeps its secrets.
"Is Sir already here?"
Aarav rarely arrived before most of the staff. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in surprise.
For a moment, her curiosity tugs at her, wondering what brought him in so early but she quickly busies herself with aligning her files, stacking them neatly, tapping the edges together to avoid looking like she's peeking. Still, the awareness lingers, almost like a faint current in the air... a quiet reminder that he is there, only a few steps and a thin pane of glass away.
[Aarav's POV]
An hour passes. I tell myself I'm buried in work, but the truth is, I've been aware of every time she's moved from her desk, every time her chair scraped softly against the floor.
Finally, I give in. I press the intercom. "Priya, bring me the Sharma file from the archive shelf." My voice is even, calm, softer than usual. I don't want her thinking I'm calling her in to scold her like before.
She knocks once, then steps inside. The faint scent of jasmine follows her. She moves toward my desk, placing the file gently in front of me.
"Thank you," I say, meeting her eyes for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before I glance down at the document. I ask her a few questions about the last project update strictly, professionally, but I keep my tone warm, careful. I don't want to see that hint of fear in her again.
Her gaze drifts not to the papers, not to my face but to my right hand. I follow her eyes and realize she's looking at the bandage.
"It's nothing-," I start to say, but then she interrupts me.
"Sir... it's bleeding."
I glance down. She's right, a dark red patch is blooming through the white cloth. I hadn't even noticed, too used to ignoring pain.
She steps a little closer, hesitation in her movement but concern in her eyes. "You shouldn't be working on the laptop like this. It'll only get worse."
For a second, I forget about the file, the meeting I have in an hour, everything. All I can focus on is her voice, soft, steady, and not the guarded tone she usually uses with me.
[Author's POV]
For a moment, the papers between them seemed unimportant. She stood just a step closer than necessary, her eyes holding his not with fear this time, but with quiet worry.
Aarav's gaze stayed on her for a beat longer, then he leaned back in his chair, his tone casual but deliberate.
"Can you change it for me, Priya?"
The question caught her off guard. Her lips parted, but no words came immediately. Her eyes flicked from his palm to his face, hesitation clear in her expression.
Aarav noticed. Of course he did.
"It's okay if you can't," he said lightly, but there was a subtle weight to his voice, the kind that made it sound like she'd be letting him down if she refused. "I'll manage somehow."
Priya's brows drew together. "No, sir... I'll do it."
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "The bandages are in that drawer."
She crossed the room, opened the drawer, and found the small first-aid kit neatly tucked inside. When she turned back, Aarav had already risen from behind his desk and walked toward the couch in the corner of his cabin.
He sat down, stretching his injured palm out slightly, the movement unhurried as though inviting her into his space. She hesitated for half a second before joining him, the air between them suddenly feeling different.
Priya carefully cleaned the wound, dabbing at it with a piece of cotton. Aarav didn't flinch, though the antiseptic must have stung. Instead, he watched her not openly, but in those quick glances when she wasn't looking.
Her focus was entirely on his hand, her lips pressed in concentration, as if the task required every bit of her attention. She didn't notice the way his gaze traced the curve of her cheek, the faint crease between her brows, or the way her lashes lowered when she leaned closer.
"You should be more careful, sir." she murmured, almost to herself.
"I'll try," he replied softly, and for a second, their eyes met
Priya looked away quickly, busying herself with wrapping the fresh bandage. Her fingers brushed his skin again, light but unavoidably warm. Aarav let his hand stay still, though every instinct told him to hold onto hers just for a moment longer.
"Sir, it's done," she said quietly, tying the end of the bandage neatly.
"Thank you," he said, his voice lower than before, carrying a note she couldn't quite place.
She nodded, standing to put the kit back in the drawer. Aarav watched her walk away, the scent of her perfume still lingering in the air between them, the warmth of her touch still on his palm.
To her, it was just helping her boss.
To him, it was the first time in a long while that something felt... gentle.
[Aarav's POV]
She walks out of my cabin, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air warm, clean, with something soft beneath it that makes me want to breathe deeper. Her fingers had been gentle, almost hesitant, when they brushed against my skin just minutes ago, wrapping the bandage around my palm with a focus that made my chest tighten.
Now, I watch her return to her desk. She doesn't look at me as she sits, head dipping toward her files like she's afraid to give anything away. My hand still feels warm where hers had been.
I try to go back to my work, but the numbers on the screen blur. Instead, I keep seeing her leaning toward me, her brows drawn in concentration, her lower lip caught briefly between her teeth when the bandage tape wouldn't stick right away. That little crease between her brows... I'd wanted to smooth it away with my thumb.
It's ridiculous a grown man sitting in his glass-walled cabin, pretending to type while his mind replays a five-minute moment like it's something far more dangerous. But I didn't stop. I let myself linger on it, because now that she's in this department, I can take my time.
And time... is something I plan to use well.
[Priya's POV]
I keep my eyes fixed on my screen, but my mind is elsewhere, on him. On the way his hand was wrapped in that careless, almost defiant bandage. The blood had been fresh when I saw it earlier.
How did he even get hurt like that? Did he slam it somewhere? Did something break?
The cut looked deep... yet when I was tying the bandage for him, he didn't even flinch. Not once.
Anyone else would've pulled their hand back at least a little when the antiseptic touched raw skin. But him? It was like he didn't feel a thing. Or maybe... he felt it but refused to show it.
Why? Was it pride? Ego? Or something darker, like he was used to pain?
I press my lips together, the memory of my fingers brushing against his skin still oddly vivid.
[Author's POV]
By 12:55 p.m., the office hum had shifted, keyboards slowed, conversations softened, and the faint smell of food drifted through the air. Priya sat back in her chair, phone pressed to her ear, talking to Tanya about lunch.
"So, what are we having?" Tanya's voice crackled through the line.
"I'm torn," Priya murmured, glancing at the small menu pinned near her desk. "I'm thinking... maybe the veg thali. It's been a while."
"Perfect, then I'll get the chicken biryani. And don't forget to grab that cold coffee you love. Your face looks half-asleep today."
"Very funny. Meet you there in ten minutes?" Priya laughs softly
"Okay."
Priya ends the call, slipping her phone back into her bag then her gaze shifts and she spotted a graceful woman in a pastel saree walking toward Aarav's cabin, carrying a tiffin bag.
Priya instinctively stood from her desk, stepping in front of the woman with a polite smile.
"Ma'am, may I help you? If you have to meet Aarav sir, you'll need an appointment," she said, her voice calm but firm.
The woman paused, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. "Are you new here?"
"Yes, ma'am. Just joined this department recently," Priya replies, still unsure.
A soft chuckle escaped the woman's lips, her eyes warm. "Well, in that case, you should know your boss isn't going to fire you for letting me in." She leaned in a little, lowering her voice with a playful glint. "I'm his mother."
Priya blinked, caught off guard. "Oh!"
The woman smiled, almost amused by her surprise. "It's alright, dear. Now, will you let me feed my son before he forgets lunch again?"
Something in her tone kind, but with an underlying confidence makes Priya's lips curve in a small, embarrassed smile.
She steps aside quickly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Please, go ahead."
With a nod of thanks, Madhavi walks past her toward Aarav's cabin, the tiffin swaying lightly in her hand.
Priya watches her disappear inside, a strange mix of curiosity and... something softer flickering in her chest.
Madhavi steps into the cabin, carrying a neatly packed tiffin bag. The aroma of fresh roti and sabzi escapes the moment she opens it, instantly softening the air in the otherwise crisp, polished space.
Aarav doesn't look up from his laptop.
"Maa, I told you there's no need to come here," he says without lifting his eyes from the screen.
"I didn't come here to argue," she replies, setting the tiffin on his desk with deliberate care. "You didn't have dinner last night, and you probably skipped breakfast today too."
"I'm fine," Aarav says shortly, flipping a page in the file in front of him.
"No, you're not," Madhavi says, pulling out the small steel containers. "Come, eat before it gets cold."
"I have work," he says, still not looking at her. His jaw is tight.
She sighs. "Aarav, do you think work will fill your stomach? Or heal whatever's eating you inside? You're my son. I can tell when something is wrong."
His hands pause on the keyboard for a fraction of a second before resuming. "Maa... please. Not here."
She studies him for a moment, her expression soft but stubborn. "Fine. But at least take one bite, for me."
Madhavi stands with her arms crossed, the unopened tiffin still on the table.
"Aarav, at least taste it," she insists.
"I said no, Maa. I'm not hungry," he replies, eyes locked on his laptop. His tone is clipped, the kind of finality meant to end the conversation.
She exhales heavily. "You didn't have dinner last night, you skipped breakfast too—"
Before she can finish, there's a polite knock on the door. Aarav glances up.
"Come in," he says, and the change in his voice is almost startling it softens, smooth and warm, as if it's been polished in an instant.
Priya steps inside, holding a neatly clipped file. "Sir, this is the updated report you asked for."
Aarav takes it from her hand, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary. "Thank you, Priya," he says, the corners of his mouth tilting in a faint smile. His voice is gentle so gentle that Madhavi's brows lift in surprise.
Her eyes flick between them, a spark of curiosity glinting there. Then, with deliberate calm, she turns to Priya.
"Beta, will you do me a favor?" she asks.
Priya blinks. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Tell your boss to eat his lunch. He's been on an empty stomach since last night."
Priya's eyes widen slightly, darting to Aarav. He gives her a pointed look that practically says, Don't you dare.
Still, there's a small, almost amused curve to her lips as she turns back to Madhavi. "I... will try, ma'am."
I don't move. "Not later, beta. Now. I want to hear you say it."
[Madhavi's POV]
Her eyes dart to him again, almost like she's checking if she's overstepping. Aarav's stare is sharp, warning — but she doesn't back down.
"Sir..." she begins softly, "please eat your lunch. You've been working since morning, and you haven't eaten anything. You'll make yourself sick."
I fold my arms, watching him. My stubborn son has ignored me a hundred times, but I can see the flicker in his eyes at her words. He doesn't say no.
"Fine," he murmurs.
That's my cue. I set the food down and look at Priya. "Thank you, beta. You can get back to work."
She gives me a polite nod, and with that same composed air, she slips out of the cabin.
Once the door clicks shut, I turn to my son. "Come on," I say, lifting the lid from the tiffin. "You're not escaping this. With that hand of yours, you can't even eat properly — I'll feed you."
He exhales through his nose, half-amused, half-resigned, and moves to sit beside me on the couch.
[Aarav's POV]
The second Priya stepped out, my cabin felt a shade quieter but not emptier. Her voice still lingered in my head, soft yet insistent, the way she'd asked me to eat.
How could I have said no? Not to her. Not when every word from her mouth feels like it's meant for me alone.
Maa scoops up the first bite, but all I can think about is how just moments ago Priya stood there, looking at me like she actually cared.
I take the bite, chew slowly, my mind far from the plate in front of me.
One day, I think, she won't just be persuading me to eat lunch...
Today, I let Maa feed me.
Tomorrow, maybe, I'll have Priya at my side.
And one day in the future... I'm going to taste her in ways that have nothing to do with food.
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To be continued......
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