The glass doors exhaled a soft *whoosh* as they sealed shut behind Aarohi, and suddenly the office could breathe again. It was as if someone had lifted a heavy blanket from the room—shoulders relaxed, conversations resumed their normal volume, and the clicking of keyboards filled the air once more. Even the fluorescent lights seemed to hum with renewed energy.
Aarohi walked back to her desk with deliberate steps, trying to project an air of casual professionalism. But her body betrayed her in small ways: the slight tremor in her fingers as she adjusted her blazer, the way she kept touching her throat as if checking that her voice was still there, the flush that crept up her neck like spilled wine on white fabric. Her notebook felt heavier somehow, as if it had absorbed some of the weight of that encounter.
The moment she settled into her chair—a well-worn office chair that creaked familiarly—Rhea materialized beside her desk like a concerned mother hen. Her friend's dark eyes were wide with barely contained curiosity, and she leaned in close enough that Aarohi could smell her jasmine perfume.
"What happened?" Rhea whispered, her voice urgent and breathless. "Did he scold you? Did he use that scary CEO voice everyone talks about?"
Before Aarohi could formulate a response, Pim appeared on her other side, practically vibrating with anticipation. Pim was the office's unofficial gossip correspondent—a petite woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue who could sniff out drama from three cubicles away.
"We all thought you'd come out crying," Pim said bluntly, her voice carrying just enough to attract the attention of nearby colleagues. "What did the devil himself say to you? Did he threaten to fire you? Did he slam his fist on the desk?"
Aarohi noticed how others had started to drift closer, pretending to organize their desks or refill their coffee cups while obviously eavesdropping. She recognized the hungry look in their eyes—the same expression people got when watching a particularly juicy reality TV show.
"He didn't scold me," Aarohi said finally, offering a gentle smile that she hoped looked more confident than she felt. She could still feel the phantom weight of his gaze on her skin.
Rhea's perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Wait... what? That's it?"
"He just asked me a few things about work. Set expectations. Nothing dramatic," Aarohi replied, though even as she said it, she knew it was a massive understatement. The memory of his voice—low, controlled, with that hint of something darker underneath—sent a small shiver down her spine.
Pim blinked owlishly, clearly disappointed. "You mean he didn't slam the table? Or do that thing where he stares at you until you confess your sins? Not even one of those soul-crushing glares?"
Aarohi hesitated, remembering the intensity of those dark eyes, the way they seemed to see straight through her carefully constructed professional facade. "Well... he did look at me intensely. But not in a bad way. More like he was trying to figure me out."
"Figure you out?" Rhea's voice pitched higher with intrigue.
"Like he was evaluating me," Aarohi clarified, though the words felt inadequate to describe the electric tension that had crackled between them.
Pim deflated visibly. "That's it? I was ready for a full soap opera. I even had my tissues ready in case you came out crying."
Rhea studied Aarohi's face with the intensity of a detective examining evidence. Something in her friend's expression told her there was more to this story, but she held her tongue. For now.
As the day wore on, Aarohi threw herself into her work with determined focus. She organized spreadsheets, responded to emails, attended meetings, and reviewed reports. But no matter how hard she concentrated on the numbers and data in front of her, her mind kept drifting back to that office like a compass needle finding true north.
She remembered the way he'd stood by those floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the city skyline like a modern-day emperor surveying his domain. The way his voice had cut through the silence—not harsh, but commanding in a way that made her want to listen. The way he'd looked at her, not with the casual dismissal she'd expected, but with something that felt almost like recognition.
*Stop it,* she told herself firmly, but her treacherous mind refused to cooperate.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, Aarohi felt like she'd run a mental marathon. The golden hour light streamed through the office windows, casting everything in warm amber tones that made even the most mundane cubicles look almost magical. She packed her things with the methodical precision of someone desperate to escape her own thoughts, said goodbye to her lingering colleagues, and practically fled toward the elevator where Rhea was waiting.
The cab ride home was filled with Rhea's animated chatter about office politics and weekend plans, but Aarohi found herself staring out the window at the city rushing past. The streets were alive with evening energy—people hurrying home from work, street vendors calling out their wares, couples walking hand in hand under the glow of neon signs.
Their apartment building was a modest mid-rise in one of the city's bustling neighborhoods, nothing fancy but perfectly adequate for two young professionals trying to make their mark. The lobby smelled like floor cleaner and someone's cooking—probably Mrs. Chen from the third floor making her famous dumplings again.
The moment they stepped inside their shared sanctuary, Aarohi kicked off her heels with a groan of relief. The apartment was small but cozy, decorated with a mixture of their belongings that somehow worked together despite their different tastes. Rhea's love for bright colors and plants was evident in the throw pillows and trailing pothos, while Aarohi's preference for books and soft textures showed in the overflowing bookshelves and cashmere throw blankets.
"Home sweet home," Aarohi sighed, padding to the kitchen in her stockings.
Rhea flopped onto their secondhand couch with characteristic drama, throwing an arm over her eyes. "I thought I'd die of boredom today. The most exciting thing that happened was watching Kumar from accounting try to fix the printer for twenty minutes. Except for your little tête-à-tête with Mr. Iceberg, of course."
Aarohi smiled as she filled their electric kettle, the familiar ritual of making evening tea grounding her. "I told you, it wasn't anything crazy."
Rhea lifted her arm to peek at her friend. "You've been in your own little world all day. Staring off into space like you're replaying a movie in your head. And that little smile you keep trying to hide? Very suspicious."
"What smile?" Aarohi asked innocently, though she could feel the corners of her mouth twitching.
"That one!" Rhea sat up straighter, pointing accusingly. "The one you're doing right now! Don't tell me..." Her eyes narrowed with the focus of a hawk spotting prey. "Oh my God. Don't tell me you actually liked his voice."
Aarohi busied herself with arranging tea cups, but her silence was answer enough.
Rhea's shriek could probably be heard three apartments down. "No! No, no, no, no! Aarohi! Anyone but him! You could fall for the weird guy who brings his lunch in a briefcase, or the security guard who writes poetry, or literally anyone else in the building!"
Aarohi couldn't help but laugh, abandoning her tea preparation to join Rhea on the couch. "I didn't say anything!"
"You didn't have to!" Rhea grabbed a throw pillow and brandished it like a weapon. "You're practically glowing! You look like the heroine in those K-dramas you love, right after she has her first encounter with the brooding male lead. Next thing I know, you'll be standing in the rain looking wistful!"
"He was... intense," Aarohi admitted, curling up on her end of the couch. "His eyes are like... like he can see right through all your defenses. And his voice..." She trailed off, remembering the way it had made her feel both nervous and strangely safe at the same time.
"That's because he probably can see through your defenses. He's richer than half the country, Aarohi. Men like that don't get where they are by being nice."
"I know," Aarohi said softly. "But it wasn't about the money or the power. It was the way he carried himself. Like he has secrets that would change everything if you knew them."
Rhea stared at her friend like she'd grown a second head. "Of all the normal, available, emotionally stable men in this city, why does it have to be Mr. Glacial Charisma? Why can't you develop a crush on someone who actually smiles? Or laughs? Or shows basic human emotion?"
Aarohi giggled, the sound light and infectious. "Because where's the fun in that?"
"Fun?" Rhea clutched her chest dramatically. "Aarohi, you're talking about falling for a man who probably schedules his emotions in his calendar. 'Tuesday 3 PM: Experience mild amusement. Thursday 1 PM: Consider smiling.'"
They both dissolved into laughter, the kind that starts in your belly and spreads until your cheeks hurt. It was the laughter of friends who had been through enough together to find humor in even the most ridiculous situations.
Still giggling, they made their way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Their evening routine was well-established and comfortable—Rhea handled the rice and vegetables while Aarohi worked on the protein and sauce. They moved around each other with the easy familiarity of people who had learned to share space without stepping on toes.
"Remember when we first moved in together and you burned water?" Rhea teased, stirring the vegetables with practiced ease.
"I did not burn water! The pot was dirty!" Aarohi protested, though she was smiling at the memory. "And remember when you tried to use the fire alarm as a cooking timer?"
"That was one time! And it worked!"
"It also got us a very stern lecture from Mrs. Chen about fire safety."
They continued their playful banter as they cooked, sharing stories and inside jokes that had accumulated over months of friendship. Rhea told her about the latest office romance rumors, while Aarohi shared her observations about their quirky neighbors.
Over steaming bowls of jasmine rice, stir-fried vegetables, and perfectly seasoned chicken, Rhea continued her mock intervention.
"I'm serious about this," she said, pointing her chopsticks at Aarohi with exaggerated severity. "If you even think about catching feelings for Ice King, you have to tell me. Because I will stage a full intervention. I'll invite every eligible bachelor in the city to our apartment and make you speed-date until you come to your senses."
"I'm not catching anything," Aarohi insisted, though she could feel heat creeping up her neck.
"Uh-huh." Rhea's expression was skeptical. "And I'm not addicted to those terrible reality shows about people getting married on islands."
"I'm just... intrigued," Aarohi added, then immediately regretted the admission.
"Famous last words," Rhea muttered, but she was smiling. "Next thing I know, you'll be analyzing the deeper meaning behind his email signatures."
"They're very professional," Aarohi said defensively, then caught herself. "I mean, I haven't noticed—"
"Oh, you are so gone," Rhea laughed. "My innocent little roommate, felled by a man who probably irons his underwear."
They finished dinner still teasing each other, clearing the table with the efficient teamwork of people who had learned to make chores less tedious through conversation. As they washed dishes, Rhea regaled Aarohi with increasingly ridiculous scenarios about her potential future with "Mr. Permafrost," each more outlandish than the last.
"Your wedding song will be 'Ice Ice Baby,'" Rhea declared, scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot.
"Your first dance will be in a freezer," Aarohi countered, drying plates with perhaps more force than necessary.
"He'll propose with a diamond the size of an ice cube."
"The honeymoon will be in Antarctica."
They were both laughing so hard they could barely continue their tasks.
Eventually, they retreated to their respective bedrooms, the apartment settling into its comfortable nighttime quiet. Aarohi's room was her personal sanctuary—walls lined with bookshelves, a comfortable reading chair by the window, and fairy lights strung along the ceiling that cast a warm, dreamy glow.
She changed into her softest pajamas—a worn cotton set that had been a gift from her sister—and slipped under her covers. The day felt like it had lasted a week, packed with emotions and encounters that had left her feeling both exhausted and oddly energized.
As she lay there, hugging her favorite pillow (a ridiculously soft one shaped like a cloud), her mind inevitably drifted back to that office. She could still feel the weight of Rithvik's gaze, the way his presence had seemed to fill the entire room despite his stillness. The way he'd spoken her name—not dismissively, but with a kind of careful consideration that made her feel seen in a way she hadn't expected.
She was just beginning to drift toward sleep when her phone buzzed against her nightstand. The sound was jarring in the quiet room, and she fumbled for it with sleepy fingers.
Unknown Number.
Aarohi frowned, her drowsiness evaporating. She rarely received calls from numbers she didn't recognize, especially not at this hour. Something about the timing felt significant, though she couldn't explain why.
"Hello?" she answered cautiously.
There was a pause—long enough for her to wonder if it was a wrong number or a telemarketer with poor timing. Then a voice came through the line, low and amused, with a quality that made her sit up straighter.
"Did you meet him?"
The voice was familiar in a way that bypassed her rational mind and went straight to her heart. It was a voice from her past, from a chapter of her life that felt both distant and intimately close. A voice that belonged to someone who knew her secrets, her dreams, her fears—someone who had been woven into her story in ways that weren't visible to the outside world.
Understanding bloomed in her chest like a flower opening to sunlight. She smiled, suddenly feeling more awake than she had all day.
"Yes. I did."
"How was he?" The question carried weight, as if the answer mattered more than simple curiosity would warrant.
Aarohi settled back against her pillows, her voice taking on a thoughtful quality. "Cold. But not empty cold—more like winter morning cold. Sharp and clean and somehow... alive. He doesn't waste words, but when he speaks, you listen. His eyes..." She paused, searching for the right words. "His eyes speak more than his mouth ever could. Like he's constantly evaluating, constantly thinking three steps ahead."
"And?" The caller's voice carried a note of something that might have been pride or anticipation.
"I think he's exactly who I expected him to be. Maybe more." Aarohi's smile turned contemplative. "He's the kind of man who makes you want to prove yourself, not because he demands it, but because something in him recognizes potential you didn't know you had."
There was a pause, heavy with unspoken understanding. Then: "So what's your next move?"
Aarohi leaned back against her headboard, her smile shifting into something more enigmatic, more determined. The playful teasing from earlier with Rhea had crystallized into something clearer, more purposeful.
"Let's just say... I'll show him that even the most stubborn ice can melt when it meets the right kind of warmth. He thinks he knows what to expect from people, but I'm going to surprise him."
A soft chuckle came through the line, warm with affection and perhaps a hint of concern. "Careful, Aarohi. You're playing with fire and frost at the same time. That kind of combination can be... explosive."
"I know," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet confidence. "But some stories are meant to be written that way. Some challenges are worth taking, even if—especially if—they change you in the process."
*Click.* The line went dead.
Aarohi stared at her phone for a long moment, then set it aside and looked up at the ceiling. Her fairy lights cast shifting patterns of shadow and light, like stars moving across a night sky. Her heart was beating faster now, not from nervousness but from anticipation—the kind of excited energy that comes before embarking on an adventure you've been planning for a long time.
She closed her eyes, her lips curving into a smile that would have worried Rhea if she could have seen it. It was the smile of someone who had just received confirmation that the game was about to begin.
Whatever happened next—whatever obstacles, whatever challenges, whatever complications arose—she was ready. More than ready.
She was eager.
*To Be Continued...*