The next morning didn’t feel like morning at all—it felt like a countdown. Aarohi walked into the office with barely three hours of sleep, caffeine doing half the job and sheer stubbornness doing the rest. The presentation file sat neatly in her laptop, but her mind kept replaying last night—his voice, the closeness, the unfinished moment that lingered like a question she didn’t know how to answer. She shook it off the second she stepped onto the floor. Today wasn’t about that. Today was about proving she belonged here.
The conference room was already occupied when she entered. Executives, clients, Rhea—everyone was there. And at the center of it all, like always, was Kabir Malhotra, calm and unreadable, flipping through the printed slides as if he hadn’t been standing inches away from her just hours ago. He didn’t look at her when she walked in, and for some reason, that annoyed her more than it should have. Fine. If he wanted distance, she’d give him distance. Professional. Detached. Unbothered.
Write a comment ...