Sameera's POV:
The silence after I said his name felt sharper than anything we had spoken. His fingers remained on the file.
Still. Controlled. But no longer casual. A stiffness moved through him so subtly most people wouldn't have noticed it. I did.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes to mine. And my breath caught for all the wrong reasons. Because I still couldn't find him there. Those weren't Saharsh's eyes. They were Mr. Wankhade's—measured, unreadable, guarded behind years I knew nothing about. Whatever softness I once knew had been locked somewhere far behind them.
"No one calls me that here," he said at last. His voice was low. Even.
I swallowed. "I'm not here."
A flicker crossed his face. Gone before I could name it.
"No," he said. "You're not."
The words should have sounded neutral. They didn't. I forced myself to hold his gaze. "Then stop pretending you don't know me." That landed. I saw it in the way his jaw tightened. In the slight inhale he took before speaking.
"I'm not pretending anything."
"Really?" I stepped closer before I could stop myself. "Because from where I'm standing, this whole act looks very rehearsed."
His eyes sharpened.
"Act?"
"Yes. The waiting downstairs for three hours. The formal tone. The not-looking-at-me. The pretending I'm just another client."
"You are another client."
The sentence cut clean. I felt it physically. But I refused to step back now.
"Then why are you angry?" For the first time, he looked away. Only for a second. Then back at me.
"You assume too much."
"And you avoid too much."
Something in the room changed again. The air felt tighter. He stood up. The movement was sudden enough to make my breath catch. He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe distance had made me forget. He came around the desk slowly, stopping just close enough to unsettle me.
"You want honesty?" he asked quietly.
My pulse kicked harder.
"Yes."
His laugh was short. Without warmth. "The truth is," he said, taking one step closer, "you're wasting my time here talking absolute nonsense."
I froze.
He didn't stop.
"Is this how your professionalism works, Miss Sameera?" Another step. Now I could feel the heat of him. My heartbeat went wild against my ribs. "You come to sign documents," he continued calmly, "and instead start discussing my tone, my eyes, my behaviour?" His gaze dipped to my trembling fingers before meeting my eyes again. "That's new."
I straightened, forcing breath into my lungs. "At least I still have behaviour," I said, trying to sound mocking though my voice came out thinner than I wanted. Something unreadable passed over his face. I turned sharply before he could answer. Walked to the door. My hand had just touched the handle when—
"Miss Sameera."
I stopped and turned. He was standing behind me, holding the file in one hand. My documents. I had forgotten them.
"You've forgotten your papers."
He held them out. Our fingers brushed when I took them. Just a touch. Barely there. Still enough to send something dangerous through me.
"Thanks," I said quickly, opened the door and stepped out before my face betrayed me. The hallway felt colder than the cabin. My pulse was still racing. My cheeks warm. My emotions worse. I kept walking. File clutched against my chest. Trying to breathe normally. Trying to remember why seeing him again felt harder than leaving him the first time.
By the time I reached home, I was exhausted in every possible way. Not physically. Emotionally. The kind of tiredness that sat behind the eyes and in the chest, where nothing looked wrong but everything felt heavy.
I pushed open the apartment door and barely stepped inside before Rishi appeared from the kitchen like she had been waiting in attack mode. "Well?" She crossed her arms dramatically. "What happened?" "Did he see you?" "Did he speak?" "Was he hot?" "Did you cry?" "Did he cry?"
"Rishi," I said flatly, slipping off my heels, "take one breath."
She ignored that completely. I walked straight to my room while she followed behind like an unpaid journalist. "So?" she insisted again, leaning against the doorframe as I pulled my earrings off. "How did it go?"
"Fine."
"That means terrible."
"It was professional."
"That means worse."
I shot her a glare through the mirror while unclasping my watch. She grinned. "He was… different," I muttered finally. Her expression shifted immediately. Different was not the word I used casually.
"How?"
I sighed, removing my blazer and tossing it onto the chair. "I don't know." I ran a hand through my hair. "I just… couldn't recognise this version of him." Rishi stayed quiet now. That was rare. "He's some completely different, annoying person," I continued, more frustrated now that the words had started coming out. "Cold. Sharp. Calculated." I turned toward her. "I didn't expect us to meet like this."
"How did you expect it?"
I opened my wardrobe and pulled out comfortable clothes. "I don't know," I said honestly. "I expected him to be angry."
Rishi blinked.
"Angry?"
"Yes!" I snapped. "I expected him to shout at me. Scream. Ask me why I left. Why I disappeared. Why I ruined everything." I changed into my T-shirt, still talking. "But this?" I faced her again. "This ignorance is killing me."
Rishi's brows lifted.
"He's acting like nothing ever happened between us," I said, my voice dropping. "Like there was no us to begin with." That sentence hurt even as I said it. "He's denying us." The room went quiet. I sat down on the bed, suddenly drained.
"I swear, I'd rather have him furious than this calm." I laughed bitterly. "At least anger means something."
Rishi slowly came and sat beside me.
"And now?"
I looked at the floor. "Now I'm going insane replaying every word, every look, every silence." She gave me a long stare.
Then said casually—
"Why did he have to come back when you finally started to forget him, right?" I froze. That was exactly what I had been thinking.
"Yes," I muttered.
Rishi smiled softly. "You never started forgetting him."
I scoffed immediately. "Oh please."
"No, listen to me." She turned properly toward me now. "You never went on dates."
"I was busy."
"You rejected every guy who came close."
"They were irritating."
"You never let anyone hold your hand."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Rishi smirked. "Exactly."
"That means nothing."
"It means everything."
I stood up, annoyed, and started folding clothes that didn't need folding. "You are being dramatic."
"No," she said calmly. "You are."
I threw a cushion at her. She caught it.
"Sameera," she said, softer now, "this is destiny."
I groaned loudly. "Please don't become spiritual suddenly."
"I'm serious." She tossed the cushion back. "You two meeting again like this? Same city? Same project? After all these years?" She spread her hands. "That is either destiny… or a writer with too much free time." Despite myself, I laughed. Just once. Rishi's voice gentled. "In the past, he put in every effort to be with you." My smile faded. "He chased you, reassured you, waited for you, fought for you." She looked at me carefully. "But you were scared." I didn't deny it. Because she was right. "You were scared of your parents. Scared of losing him. Scared of Gauri, of the future, of your panic attacks, of not being enough."
My throat tightened.
"But now?" She pointed at me. "Your parents changed after everything happened. They just want you happy." I looked away. It was true. After seeing me break, something in them had softened. "Career-wise?" she continued. "You are thriving.You're leading projects.Your health?" She smiled proudly. "You've worked hard. Therapy. Routine. Coping methods. You're stronger now."
I looked at her helplessly.
"What are you trying to say?"
She leaned forward. "I think this time…" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "You should go after him."
I stared at her.
"Absolutely not."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"He hates me."
"He's hurt."
"He ignored me."
"He was protecting himself."
"He insulted me."
"He noticed you enough to insult you personally."
I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "You are impossible."
Rishi laughed. Then her voice softened again. "You still love him." I didn't answer. Couldn't. She placed a hand on my head gently. "And if somewhere inside him… he still loves you too…" A pause. "Then maybe this time, stop waiting for him to come to you."
I looked up slowly.
"What if I'm too late?"
Rishi smiled.
"Then annoy him until you're not."
---
The next few weeks passed in a blur of deadlines, revisions, meetings, calls, and one very specific source of suffering.
Saharsh Wankhade.
We barely interacted directly, yet somehow he had found a hundred ways to make my life difficult without ever raising his voice. Requirements changed at midnight. Design approvals came back with ten new corrections. Entire modules were "good, but can be sharper." Presentations were returned with one-line comments that somehow felt personal. Needs more thought. Too safe. Expected better. Every mail copied half the world. Every suggestion was precise enough that I couldn't even argue. And the worst part? He was right. Most of the time. My team had started fearing notifications from AetherEdge.
I had started hating how calm his name looked in my inbox.
"He's targeting us," one of my teammates groaned during a review meeting.
"No," I muttered while typing notes furiously. "He's targeting me. You all are collateral damage."
Still—
somehow, we delivered. The project wrapped successfully. The boards were happy. The metrics looked strong. Divya had even given me the rarest gift known to mankind:
A nod of approval.
Which was how I found myself dressed for a formal celebration dinner three weeks later. A joint event. My team. His team. Leadership from both companies. A polished rooftop restaurant with city lights and expensive cutlery that made me nervous. Our teams sat on opposite sides of the long arrangement. I sat with Ardent. He sat with AetherEdge.
Still distant.
Still unreadable.
Still irritatingly handsome.
I hated that last part. The evening had just settled into polite conversation when a man from Saharsh's side shifted into the empty chair beside me. "Hi," he said with an easy smile. "Kartik. Strategy lead."
"Sameera," I replied politely.
"I know."
That grin widened. Of course it did. Kartik was charming in the way some men knew exactly how to be. Confident. Smooth. Too aware of himself.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said.
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is," he replied. "Mostly praise."
I smiled faintly and reached for my glass.
Across the table, I let my eyes flick once—
toward Saharsh. He was speaking to someone beside him. Or pretending to.
"So," Kartik continued, leaning slightly closer, "do you always terrify clients this efficiently, or was that reserved for us?"
"I don't terrify anyone."
"Oh, I disagree."
I gave a polite laugh and shifted the topic twice. He ignored both attempts. Persistent. Wonderful. Before I could answer again, one of my colleagues, Neha, jumped in dramatically.
"Kartik, save your energy."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because it is completely useless going after Sameera." The whole table laughed. I glared at her.
Another teammate joined in.
"She's been here two years and never once gone on a date." "Not even coffee," someone added. "She barely tolerates men breathing near her," another said.
I groaned. "Can everyone stop talking?"
Neha raised a hand grandly. "In fact, Kartik, she is the official heartbreaker of Ardent Systems." Laughter spread again.
And then—
from across the table—
came a familiar voice.
"Yes," Saharsh said coolly, lifting his glass. "She's quite the heartbreaker." A small sarcastic laugh followed. My eyes snapped to him. There it was. Finally. A direct hit.
"Excuse me, Mr. Wankhade," I said sweetly. "Did you say something?" The whole table went quieter instantly. He looked at me for one measured second. Then took another sip.
"Nothing," he said smoothly. "Please continue."
Infuriating man. Before I could retaliate, one of my colleagues leaned toward Kartik again.
"I heard she was in love with someone back in college." I froze. Oh no. "And?" Kartik asked with interest. "And she's still not over him," she declared dramatically. "That's why she rejects everyone." The table reacted with amused gasps.
I wanted to resign. Immediately.
Kartik turned to me, smiling. "Oh? Is that true, Sameera?"
I straightened slowly. And this time— I looked directly at Saharsh. He wasn't smiling anymore. "No," I said calmly. "As you heard, it's just a rumour." A pause. "Yes, I used to like someone in college." My eyes stayed where they were. "But now?" I leaned back casually. "I'm completely over him."
Something changed in Saharsh's face. Barely visible. But I saw it. Interesting.
I continued, voice light. "In fact…" I picked up my glass. "I like someone now."
Silence. A dangerous, delicious silence.
Kartik nearly choked in excitement. "Really?"
But I wasn't looking at Kartik. I was looking across the table. At the man who had spent weeks torturing me professionally. At the man who pretended nothing remained between us. At the man whose jaw had just tightened.
Was that—
jealousy?
Was this affecting him at all? For the first time in weeks, I smiled properly.
The silence after I said I like someone now was worth every second of it. Kartik was still stunned. My colleagues looked scandalized. Then I leaned back casually and waved a hand. "I'm kidding."
The table burst into laughter.
"Relax, everyone. I'm still single."
Kartik exhaled dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "You scared me."
I turned to him. "Scared you?"
"Yes."
He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound charming.
"Before I even got the chance to try."
I arched a brow. "Try what?"
"To impress you." Kartik stood up and extended his hand toward me. "Dance with me." Straightforward. No hesitation.
The table reacted instantly.
"Ohooo!"
"Go, Sameera!"
"Kartik, bold move."
I laughed despite myself. "I don't dance," I said.
"That's okay," he replied. "I do enough for two people."
More laughter.
I glanced across the table. Saharsh was speaking to someone from finance. Or still pretending to. He hadn't looked at me once since my little announcement. Which obviously meant he was listening to every word.
I looked back at Kartik. He was still standing there, hand out, smiling like rejection was impossible. Persistent man and Dangerously entertaining. I placed my fingers lightly in his hand. "Fine," I said. "But if you embarrass me, I'm filing an HR complaint."
He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "And what if I impress you?"
I stood up. "Then I'll consider not blocking you." The table erupted again. As he led me toward the dance floor, I let my eyes drift one last time. Toward Saharsh. This time— he was looking directly at me. No pretending. No side glances. Just that steady unreadable stare. Sharp enough to stop breath.
Kartik spun me lightly once onto the floor. "See?" he said. "Already fun."
"You're very committed to your own charm."
"Someone has to be."
I laughed. Actually laughed. And for the first time all evening, I relaxed. We moved with the music—nothing intense, just easy playful steps, teasing, conversation. Kartik was surprisingly good.
"You know," he said, leaning slightly closer as the beat slowed, "I think your colleagues were wrong."
"About?"
"That you don't tolerate men."
I arched a brow. "And why's that?"
"Because you're tolerating me beautifully."
I smirked. "Temporary lapse in judgment."
He grinned wider. Then he spun me again. This time I turned farther—
and my eyes landed beyond him. Saharsh was no longer at the table. My smile faltered. I looked around quickly.
Near the bar?
No.
Near the board members?
No.
Gone.
A strange disappointment hit before I could stop it. Ridiculous. Why did it matter if he stayed?
Kartik noticed the shift. "Looking for someone?"
"No."
"You're a bad liar."
"And you're too observant."
The song changed again. Slower now. Closer. Kartik's hand slid respectfully to my waist. He paused. "May I?"
I should have stepped back. Instead— I nodded. He drew me in gently. The rooftop lights blurred around us. People talking. Glass clinking. Wind moving my hair.
And then—
A firm hand caught Kartik's wrist. Not rough but final. Kartik turned sharply. So did I.
Saharsh stood there beside us. Expression calm. Eyes anything but.
"May I borrow her," he said.
It wasn't a question.