Shreya

 "JJ! Why isn't breakfast ready yet?" I shouted from the doorway, urgency lacing my voice.

He answered calmly from the kitchen, "Saali sahiba, the maid didn't show up today. I'm cooking everything by myself. Can't take help from your sister-and you clearly don't want to offer any."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you taunting me now, JJ?"

He turned, dramatically wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead. "Me? Taunt you? Never. How could I possibly?"

I rolled my eyes. "This isn't the time for jokes, JJ. I'm late. I'll eat something at work."

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and stormed out. I sank into the cab, exhaling sharply. At least the silver lining was this-our beloved boss hadn't shown up for the past few days. I hoped he stayed away. Honestly, after what he did in his cabin, I didn't want to see his face again.

I had just started to relax at my desk, headphones in, when I spotted Vijay walking in.

"Well, well," I muttered to myself. "The sidekick returns."

I called out, "Hey, Vijay! Where were you two? I mean... you and Mr. Patil? Haven't seen either of you in days."

He glanced up casually. "Boss had some personal work."

"Personal work?" I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of personal work needs your help too? Isn't he capable of handling his own affairs?"

Vijay just smiled. "We were helping Alisha ma'am."

"Alisha?" I blinked. "Who's that?"

But before I could dig further, he conveniently remembered some urgent task and slipped away. I leaned back in my chair, thoughts spinning. Alisha... who the hell is Alisha? And why did she need my boss's undivided attention for four whole days?
without informing anyone?

I was still stewing when my phone buzzed. It was Di.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Did you have breakfast?"

I lied. "Yes, of course."

She sighed. "And lunch? Going out with the same boss again?"

I almost choked. "Not again! He'll make me pay for it, like last time. He still hasn't reimbursed me, by the way."

She laughed, and I heard JJ laughing in the background too.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh," I said sarcastically. "Glad my foolishness is at least giving my future nephew a good time in there."

Di's tone shifted. "JJ actually felt really bad about that. He said-"

"I'll handle it," I interrupted gently. "Don't worry. Both of you-I'll manage."

Just then, I spun around in my chair-and nearly toppled over when I saw him standing behind me.

Jayant Patil.

Standing right in front of me with that maddening half-smile on his face. I gasped, heart racing, and stumbled backward.

"Shreya! What happened?" Di's voice echoed through the phone.

I couldn't answer. I was frozen. He stepped closer, amused. "I didn't know my face was that charming-girls practically fall for me at first sight."

He said it like I had fallen in love with him at first sight. Delusional, I thought. You're terrifying, not charming.

I quickly stood up, brushing myself off. He extended a hand to help me up, but I ignored it. That small act of defiance seemed to bother him. His hand fell back slowly, his smile dimming just slightly.

Di was still on the line. "Hello? Shreya?"

"I'll call you back," I muttered, and hung up.

Mr. Patil raised an eyebrow. "You're paid to work, not to chit-chat on calls."

Seriously? Why was he always like this with me?

As he turned to walk away, I raised my voice. "Mr. Patil, don't you think you're being a bit... unnecessarily rude to me lately?"

He stopped.

Everyone looked up from their desks.

Let him hear this in front of them, I thought. Let the office see I won't be pushed around.

He slowly turned back and walked toward me, each step quiet, measured, deliberate. He stopped so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.

"I'm rude?" he asked, his voice low.

I leaned back slightly, trying to maintain distance. "Yes. And also, this... this proximity? Not okay."

He leaned in, dangerously amused. "How close is too close, Miss Murthy?"

My voice dropped, but my spine didn't. "Back off. Or I'll file complain against POSH."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

He smirked, inching even closer. "But I haven't touched you. Haven't said anything indecent. What are you going to accuse me of? Breathing in your direction?How will you prove anything?."

I straightened my spine, lifting my chin. "Proof isn't everything. In a workplace like this, sometimes just one complaint is enough to ruin a so-called respectable man's image."

That made him smile. Not nervously. Not guiltily.

But like a man who wasn't afraid of fire-because he enjoyed playing with it.

"Then go ahead," he murmured. "Ruin me."

And just like that, he turned and walked off toward his cabin, like nothing had happened.

The whole floor had seen it.

I took a deep breath and sank back into my chair, trying to ignore the gazes still lingering on me.

He was unpredictable, dangerous... and worst of all, somehow still charming.

I hated that.

He was infuriating.

He was inappropriate.

And the worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.

And he enjoyed it.
__________________________

It was almost lunchtime, and the reality hit me-I hadn't brought my tiffin. I stared blankly at my desk, the ache in my stomach slowly growing louder than the keystrokes around me. Going out to eat was an option, sure. But with whom? I barely had anyone to even talk to here.

Just then, Vijay walked up to me with a sly smile.

"For you, Miss Murty," he said, placing a food package on my desk.

"For me?" I blinked, genuinely surprised.

He gave me a mysterious look and walked away without another word.

Curious, I opened the parcel. A small note rested on top: From J.

The second I saw the 'J', I knew. "JJ," I whispered under my breath, a soft smile forming on my lips. Of course it was him.

Inside, the delicious aroma of Hyderabadi biryani greeted me like an old friend. I had been craving it just moments ago... and JJ had already sent it. Almost like he read my mind.

"Wow, JJ..." I murmured, touched more than I wanted to admit.

I settled in to eat, savoring the first few bites. The biryani was too much for one person, and I knew I wouldn't be able to finish it alone. Still, I kept eating slowly, appreciating the flavors and the gesture.

Then came trouble.

Jayant Patil.

Out of nowhere, he appeared right in front of me.

I froze for half a second. My hands were greasy, and a loose strand of hair kept falling on my face.

Without a word, he reached out and gently tucked the strand behind my ear.

Our eyes met-and held-for just a moment longer than they should have. I blinked. Once.

And again.

He was standing a little too close.

Then he said, "Biryani. Smells good."

I swallowed. "Would you... like some?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Only if you insist."

I pushed the plate toward him. "There's enough for two."

"No," he said, meeting my gaze. "Only if you feed me."

My breath caught for a moment.
There was no one else around. The office had emptied out for lunch, the perfect silence hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, hiding the butterflies in my stomach as best as I could. "I only have one plate."

"That's fine," he replied with that maddening calm of his.

So I served him a portion on the same plate, sliding it a little closer. We began eating-awkwardly at first. Every time our fingers brushed while reaching for a bite, I felt a spark shoot through me, impossible to ignore.

And the worst part?

Every single time it happened, I caught myself watching him again.

That crooked smile. That unreadable gaze.

I hated how aware of him I was.

But I couldn't look away.

Not this time.

We were still mid-bite, sharing soft glances and subtle touches over the plate of biryani, when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Voices-laughter-co-workers returning from lunch. Panic rushed through me like a wave.

Without thinking, I slid under my desk in one swift move.

I couldn't let anyone see us eating together like this. Just this morning we were practically at each other's throats-and now? Sharing biryani from a single plate like we belonged in a slow-burn romance. The contradictions would be too obvious. People would talk. Whisper.

No one can see us like this. No one should.

But him?

Mr. Patil didn't move an inch. He stayed right where he was-calm, collected, unfazed-sitting at my desk, eating like he owned the moment. Like he owned the room. Like it didn't matter who saw him.

"Boss... are you having lunch at Miss Murty's desk?" someone asked with a half-laugh.

"Were you two... having lunch together?"

He was just about to say yes-I knew it-when I jabbed his leg hard from under the desk.

"Ouch!" he yelped in pain, his voice rising a little more than it should have.

Everyone froze.

He caught himself quickly, coughed once to cover the moment, and smiled as if nothing had happened. "Bit my tongue," he muttered with surprising ease. "Carry on, everyone."

As the chatter faded and people returned to their screens and routines, I stayed crouched under the desk, still hiding-breath held, heart pounding.

And then... I saw his legs.

He was coming down.
To my level.

Holding a bunch of tissues.

Without asking, without saying a word, he took my hand gently and began wiping it clean. I didn't stop him. I just watched. Something about the gesture stole every word from my mouth.

There was nothing flirtatious about it. Just quiet, unexpected care.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he took another tissue and gently wiped the corner of my mouth. I couldn't move-I was frozen by the softness of it, the silence that wrapped around us like something sacred.

When he stood up, he gathered the plate, the biryani containers, everything-even my leftover food. He didn't hand it to me. He simply walked away with it.

And I remained there. Still crouched under my desk, more shaken by his kindness than I had ever been by his temper.

Minutes passed-or maybe seconds, I couldn't tell.

Then I saw his hand again, reaching down toward me.

He helped me out, slowly, gently, holding me steady as I rose from beneath the desk.

And then, leaning in close, so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath.
just inches from my face, he whispered, "Welcome."

I blinked at him, puzzled. "Welcome?" I hadn't even said thank you.

Before I could ask what he meant, he was already walking away, his stride as confident as ever-like he hadn't just turned my day upside down in the span of a lunch break.

I sat down slowly, replaying every moment in my mind.

Welcome... for what?

For the biryani? For not making a scene? For letting him clean my hands like that?
Or was it something else?

And why... why did it feel like that one word carried more weight than anything else he'd ever said to me?

I didn't know.

But I knew this much-Jayant Patil was no longer just my arrogant, impossible boss.

He had become the most confusing storm I had ever stepped into.

Evening was settling in, soft golden rays spilling through the office windows, but my mind remained clouded with a single word echoing again and again-"Welcome."

What had he meant by that?
Why say it at all when I hadn't even thanked him?

I needed answers.

Or maybe I just needed an excuse.

With that thought lingering, I grabbed my sketchpad and headed toward Mr. Patil's cabin. I told myself I needed his input on a concept drawing. Technically, it was true. But honestly? It was just a flimsy reason to see him.

As I approached, laughter floated through the door.
He was laughing inside.
It was rare to hear him laugh like that. It was rich, carefree... unfamiliar. My footsteps slowed. He sounded different.

Not smirking. Not scoffing. Laughing.

It was rich, warm, unfamiliar. The kind of laugh people only reserve for comfort-or intimacy.

My hand hovered on the doorknob, heart suddenly alert. I told myself to turn back, to not overthink-but I'd already cracked the door open.

"Boss, I need-" I started.

But he cut me off instantly-without even turning his head. One finger rose in the air, commanding silence.

Wait.

That's all I got.

His tone didn't ask. It ordered.

I stopped mid-sentence and sat on the chair beside the door, watching him place his hand over the phone mic.

"Miss Murty," he said, his voice cold and clipped, "please wait outside."

Outside? I blinked.

But I stood and walked out, pretending it didn't bother me. Pretending like his dismissal didn't just feel like a slap across the ego. I closed the door behind me but couldn't walk away.

My curiosity rooted me to the spot. My pride said leave-but something else said listen.

So I did.

I leaned ever so slightly toward the closed door. His voice filtered through faintly, but the words were crystal clear.

"You come soon, hmm? Then we'll have all the fun... Aaloo."

Aaloo?
I froze. Did I hear that right?
Or maybe it was Babu?
Then his voice softened, a different texture entirely. Like velvet laced with longing.

"I don't feel like doing anything without you, Alisha... please na..."

Alisha.

The name hit like ice water down my spine.

Alisha-the same name Vijay had slipped in morning. The same mystery woman for whom my boss had vanished without informing anyone for four whole days.

So she was the reason.

Suddenly, the door opened-and I stumbled.

Literally collided with Mr. Patil's chest.

His hand went instinctively to steady me, but I quickly pulled away, fumbling to recover my posture... and my dignity.

He looked straight into my eyes, no softness now-just scrutiny.

"You were eavesdropping."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"No!" I said, too quickly. "Why would I? I was just... waiting."

His arms folded across his chest. "Didn't seem like waiting."

My gaze darted away, guilt hot on my face. But I caught my breath and raised my chin. "And what you doing? Huh.. flirt on call."

His smirk faded. Slightly.

"You think that was flirting?"

"I think it's none of my business," I replied sharply. "But since you made it awkward by dragging your Alisha into work territory, I guess I now know where your sick leave really went."

A beat passed.

He tilted his head, voice softening in that dangerously disarming way. "You jealous, Miss Murty?"

I laughed, bitter and short. "Of your potato girl? No way.. and why would I...."

"Offcourse you are" he said.

I snapped, "get paid to do work, not to flirt on personal calls during office hours."

He arched an eyebrow.

"The company may be yours, Mr. Patil, but that doesn't mean rules don't apply to you."

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then... a dangerous smirk curled on his lips. "In that case," he said slowly, stepping aside, "why don't you come in? We'll talk about rules-together."

He held the door open wider.

Like a challenge.

I hesitated at the threshold, my heart hammering, my brain screaming don't. But my feet?

They moved on their own.

And somewhere deep inside, I knew-I wasn't here to talk about rules at all.

The next moment, I found myself pinned gently between the wall and his towering presence. Mr. Patil stood just inches away from me-his eyes steady, his body calm, too calm.

"So," he said, voice low and deliberate, "what are these rules of yours?"

I held my ground, refusing to be intimidated by the heat rising inside me. Looking straight into his eyes, I said, "In the office, you're not supposed to flirt with any female employees... and definitely not over the phone either behind this close door."

His lips curled into a slow, taunting smile. "Then here's a rule from my side... No unnecessary drama at work. Your focus should stay strictly on your tasks... and your boss."

I scoffed. "Right. But what if the boss is the one not paying attention to his employee?"

His eyes flickered, amused. "Touché."

I tried to look away. I needed to. But he was like gravity-pulling me in whether I liked it or not. The air between us pulsed with something I couldn't name.

He tilted his head slightly. "What did you really come here for, Miss Murty? A design discussion? Or a closer look at your boss?"

My skin prickled. "Maybe both," I said. "But I have another rule."

He raised an eyebrow.

"This..." I gestured subtly between us, the barely-there space. "This thing you do-getting this close while talking-it needs to stop."

His smile twisted, darker now. "Why? Are you afraid you'll want me to? Huh"
"Afraid I might give you a heart attack?"

Trying to sound more collected than I felt, I said, "Maybe you should just ask me out for coffee instead."

He blinked. That caught him off guard.

"I mean," I added quickly, "I just need to know," I said quietly, "whether this is just... office fun for you. A daily dose of flirtation. Or if it means something."

His expression shifted.
He pulled back slightly. I could feel the shift in the air. He hadn't expected that question-not from me.

I looked down, already embarrassed. Of course. I'd said too much.

This was just some corporate game. A harmless flirtation to pass long hours.

But then...

"Do you want to go on a coffee date?" he asked softly.

I looked up.

And I saw it.

In his eyes-something real. Not playful, not strategic... just honest.

He liked me.

I started to walk past him. He didn't stop me. But just as I reached the door, he called out, voice lower, silkier than before-

"Miss Murty..."

I paused.

"...do check yourself in mirror. Your cheeks are the color of strawberries."

My eyes widened. I touched my face. Warm. Burning.

Damn him.

I left the room without another word, but inside, I was glowing. And terrified.

Because something real had just begun-and neither of us was ready for it. A hundred emotions swirling through me-confusion, excitement, and something dangerously close to happiness.

As I stood outside the office building, waiting for my cab. The warm golden light stretched long shadows across the pavement, and the gentle hum of the city after-hours filled the air. I checked my phone again-no sign of the cab yet.

That's when I heard the low purr of an engine.

Mr. Patil's sleek black car rolled up and came to a smooth halt right in front of me. The window lowered, and there he was-leaning slightly over the steering wheel with that familiar, unreadable smirk tugging at his lips.

"Coffee?" he asked, his voice low but deliberate.

I smirked, letting the teasing rise to the surface. "Are you planning to make me pay again? Is this your way... Right?"

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I'll pay for mine, you pay for yours. Equal terms."

"Deal," I said, lifting a brow. "Only if you return all the money i've already spent on you...."

His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Noted. Shall we go then?"

I should've said yes.

But I didn't. Not because I didn't want to. But because I wasn't sure. So I lied.

"Not tonight... my sister needs me."

He didn't probe. Just nodded. "Then let me drop you home at least."

"That's okay, my cab's-" I stopped mid-sentence as my cab pulled up next to us.

I stepped toward it, already reaching for my wallet.

But... something stopped me.

He was still there. Waiting.

Why?

But then I looked at him again.

He was still waiting-still watching me-as if giving me a chance to change my mind.

And I did.

Without thinking, I walked to my cab, handed the driver a quick "Sorry," paid the fare, and turned back toward his car. I got in, silent, unsure what I was doing, but certain I couldn't walk away just yet. He didn't say anything either. He just started the engine again and turned his face toward the window, the faintest hint of a grin curling on his lips.

The silence between us wasn't awkward-it was electric.

As we drove, I found myself instinctively guiding him. "Take a left here... now a right-"

"I know the way," he interrupted gently.

I blinked. "You do?"

He nodded once. "I've seen your address."

I narrowed my eyes, half amused, half alarmed. "Did you stalk me?"

He chuckled. "No. I read your current address on your CV."

That made me quiet.

Somehow... it felt more intimate than stalking. More intentional.

He had paid attention.

When we reached my building, I undid the seatbelt and turned to him. "Thanks for the ride."

He simply nodded, eyes flickering to mine. "You're welcome."

I stepped out and began walking toward the entrance, but after a few paces, I turned.

His car was still there, unmoving.

I stood still, watching.

He hadn't driven away yet. Just sat there... watching me disappear from view. And I didn't look away until his car turned the corner and vanished down the road.

I walked up to the apartment, still lost in the events of the day. Every little moment played on loop in my head-the unexpected biryani, that chair-side closeness, his teasing voice, and those impossible eyes too close for comfort. I couldn't help it. I was smiling... no, blushing, like a total idiot.

As soon as I stepped into the flat, I saw Di and JJ curled up on the couch watching a movie. They paused the film when they saw me.

"Your boss has such a dreamy voice," Di said, grinning.

I tossed my bag onto the side table. "Yeah... and he flirts really well too," I replied, almost absentmindedly.

JJ laughed, but Di didn't.

"Wait. He flirts with you?" Her tone shifted-protective older sister mode, activated.

I shrugged, toeing off my shoes. "He did."

"Are you okay with that? You're only here for a few months, remember? Don't get involved with a Delhi guy. Baba will never agree."

I groaned. "Seriously, Di? You're already imagining my wedding and rebellion? It was just harmless office flirting."

She didn't say anything after that, but her silence was louder than any words.

I looked at JJ next and smiled softly. "Thanks for the biryani, by the way."

But he frowned, confused. "What biryani?"

"The one you sent to the office... with a note? 'From J'?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't me."

And in that moment, everything froze.

The note. The timing. The exact dish I had been craving. It wasn't JJ.

It was him.

Jayant Patil.

Oh my God.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I shot up from the couch without another word. My heart was a confused mess. I rushed into my room and closed the door behind me, leaning against it like the wooden panel could somehow shield me from the chaos in my chest.

He sent the biryani.

He listened.

He noticed.

Why would someone like him even look at someone like me? A CEO-flirting with a junior architect who had, in their first meeting, cracked his windshield.

Was he really interested in me?

Or was I just another fleeting amusement in his busy life?

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't look any different, but inside... something had definitely shifted.

I wasn't supposed to let anything real happen here. This was temporary. A few months. A project. A city that didn't belong to me.

I closed my eyes.

This city was supposed to be a temporary stop.

But the moment he smiled at me?

Something about it felt dangerously permanent. God help me.
_________

The next morning, I walked into the office with one mission in mind-to avoid Mr. Jayant Patil at all costs.

And I did. Like a seasoned actor in a silent drama, I slipped around corners, pretended to be too absorbed in my screen, conveniently forgot files that needed his signature, and directed queries to others. If he tried to catch my eye, I looked away. If he came over, I kept my answers short, polite, distant.

He noticed, of course.

He tried, more than once, to start a conversation-offering help, making casual comments, even placing a coffee cup near my desk as a peace offering. But I stayed cold, unreadable. I couldn't let him get into my head again.

By evening, the air between us had turned into a quiet battlefield-tense, filled with unspoken questions. My desk felt colder, somehow.

That's when my phone buzzed.

A message from Nandini di.

"Rishabh's here. I'm trying to get him to leave. I'll text you when he gone."

For a second, everything around me stilled.

Rishabh.

Just reading his name sent a chill down my spine, like some ghost from a life I had buried deep beneath denial and strength. I blinked at the screen, rereading her message as if it might change.

He's in Delhi. Why?

Why now?

My hands trembled slightly as I kept my phone face-down on the desk. Whatever strength I had built over months suddenly cracked. The smile I'd been faking all day-the one meant to prove Jayant didn't matter-disappeared completely.

My heart was no longer at war with Mr. Patil.

It was sinking under the weight of Rishabh's shadow.

Memories, ones I didn't want and certainly hadn't invited, crept back in. His voice. His betrayal. The apologies that came too late. The way he made me feel like I was always second choice.

I didn't want to see him. Not now. Not ever. Not when I was finally learning how to breathe again.

And yet, he was here-in this city, in my space-like a storm returning to a place it once destroyed.

across the room with quiet concern.

Mr. Patil watching me, He could probably sense it. The shift. The way I'd gone from guarded to...lost.

But I didn't look at him.

Because if I did, he might ask what was wrong.
And I might just tell him.

I stared blankly at my laptop screen, unable to focus, the world blurring into silence around me. And all I could think was-

Not him. Not again.

________

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