Arjun tightened the grip on his mop, sweat trickling down his forehead as he scrubbed the marble floor until it gleamed. The company's headquarters rose like a golden tower in the city skyline—Kapoor Enterprises, a place where the wealthy and powerful walked like gods.
And here he was. A poor boy from a dusty small town, bent over a bucket, cleaning up after them.
Every swish of the mop reminded him why he was here. His mother's frail smile flashed in his mind, her voice weak as she urged him to eat instead of sending all his earnings home. But he couldn't. Her medicine, her hospital bills—they came first. His stomach could wait.
The janitor's uniform clung uncomfortably to his lean frame, but Arjun worked silently. He was invisible here, a shadow moving between the shining walls. That was how he liked it. The rich didn't notice boys like him, and it was better that way.
At least, until that night.
The door to the CEO's private office swung open with a soft click. Arjun straightened immediately, lowering his eyes as footsteps echoed on the polished floor.
She had arrived.
Maya Kapoor. The youngest CEO in the country. A woman whose name carried power, whose beauty filled magazine covers, and whose elegance silenced rooms. Tonight she wore a sleek black dress that hugged her tall, graceful frame. A pair of diamond earrings caught the light, glittering like stars against her raven-black hair.
Arjun froze, his mop still in his hands. He knew she worked late often, but he hadn't expected to see her here. Not like this.
Her eyes fell on him. Dark, sharp, assessing. For a second, he felt as if she could see straight through him—through his patched-up shoes, through his tired body, through the boy who had nothing but debts and dreams.
"Still working?" she asked, her voice low, smooth, commanding.
Arjun swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am. Just… finishing up."
He waited for her to walk past, to ignore him as she always did. But tonight, something was different. Instead of cold indifference, her lips curved—just slightly. A smile. Small, rare, dangerous.
"You're very dedicated," Maya said softly.
The words struck him harder than any insult. No one ever praised him. Not for mopping floors. Not for surviving.
He bowed his head quickly. "It's… my job, ma'am."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as if weighing something unsaid. Then she turned, her heels clicking across the floor as she approached her desk.
Arjun's heart hammered in his chest. He forced himself to move, dipping the mop back into the bucket, pretending to work. But his mind wasn't on the floor anymore.
It was on her smile.
That night, when he returned to his rented room with peeling paint and a thin mattress, sleep refused to come. He stared at the ceiling, remembering the way her eyes had softened—just for a heartbeat—when she looked at him.
A boy like him had no right to think of a woman like her. She was wealth, power, and beauty. He was nothing but dust clinging to her shoes.
And yet… his chest ached with something he couldn't name.
Across the city, in her glass penthouse, Maya Kapoor sat by the window, phone pressed to her ear as her boyfriend's angry voice spilled through the line. She barely listened. His words—accusations, jealousy, demands—blurred into noise.
Because all she could think of was the janitor boy.The one with tired eyes, quiet strength, and a soul that looked unbroken despite the weight he carried.
And for the first time in years, Maya Kapoor wondered—Could someone as simple as him… make her heart feel alive again?