The office was quieter than usual that afternoon.
Employees moved like shadows through the glass corridors, careful not to disturb their CEO after the legendary boardroom session that morning.
Everyone knew Rudra Malhotra was in a mood — the kind where even the hum of a coffee machine sounded too loud.
Inside his office, Rudra sat behind his desk, head bowed over a laptop, trying (and failing) to focus.
The words on the screen blurred together. All he could think about was last night.
The quick kiss.
Ayaan's whisper against his neck.
That trembling voice saying, "I love you so much that it hurts."
Rudra's hand froze halfway to the keyboard. His throat tightened. He pushed his chair back slightly, closing his eyes.
He could still feel it — that warmth in his chest that refused to fade.
Breathe. Focus, Rudra.
He straightened up, clicked on the next report, and tried to look like the ruthless man everyone believed he was.
Until someone knocked.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
"Excuse me, sir…" Meera's hesitant voice came through the door. "There's a visitor for you."
Rudra didn't look up. "Schedule it through—"
"It's from the café across the street," she said quickly, tone uncertain. "He said it's a delivery."
Rudra's fingers stilled on the keyboard.
"…Send him in."
When the door opened, the world seemed to pause.
Ayaan stood there — wearing his light brown sweater, scarf loosely around his neck, holding a small paper tray with two coffees and a white box.
His hair was slightly messy from the wind, his smile shy but unshaken.
Meera blinked. Wait. This man looks… familiar.
She stepped aside, letting him in, but not before noticing how her cold, emotionless CEO — the one who terrified investors — suddenly sat up a little straighter and did not meet Ayaan's eyes.
"Your… delivery, sir," Ayaan said softly, walking toward him.
Rudra's jaw tightened. "I didn't order anything."
"You didn't have to," Ayaan said with a small, teasing smile. "One of your employees did. Said the CEO could use a smile."
A muffled snort came from outside the door — Meera, barely suppressing a grin. She quickly closed it behind her.
Rudra leaned back, glaring in the direction of the door before lowering his gaze to Ayaan.
"What's in the box?"
Ayaan placed it carefully on his desk. "Vanilla cupcakes. I made them this morning. Thought you might… need something sweet after scaring everyone half to death."
Rudra raised a brow. "That's my job."
"Then you're overqualified," Ayaan replied quietly.
There was a pause — the kind where the air seemed to tighten between them.
Rudra looked at him, and all that cold, distant armor he wore every day began to crack.
"…You shouldn't be here," Rudra finally muttered, voice low. "Someone might—"
"Think I'm just a café delivery guy?" Ayaan finished with a grin.
Rudra froze. His eyes flicked toward the glass wall, then back at Ayaan.
"You're enjoying this."
"Maybe a little."
Rudra exhaled sharply, hiding his flushed expression by taking the coffee cup.
The steam fogged his glasses slightly — or maybe that was just the way Ayaan was smiling at him.
"You look tired," Ayaan said gently, stepping closer. "Didn't sleep well?"
Rudra didn't answer. He couldn't. Not with Ayaan standing this close, smelling faintly of roasted beans and vanilla frosting.
Ayaan's tone softened even more.
"Last night was… special."
Rudra's breath caught.
"I didn't want to leave," Ayaan whispered. "And I kept thinking… maybe you didn't want me to either."
Rudra's eyes lifted to meet his, something unspoken flickering there — raw, nervous, but deeply real.
"…You're right."
Ayaan's eyes widened, the teasing fading for a moment. "I—"
Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door.
Both froze.
"Sir," Meera's voice came from outside, "the client from Singapore is on the call."
Rudra closed his eyes. "Tell them I'll call back."
Meera's voice hesitated. "…Sir?"
"Call. Back."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The footsteps retreated quickly.
Ayaan blinked, his heart beating faster. "You just ignored an international client?"
"For five minutes," Rudra murmured, setting his coffee down and standing up slowly. His gaze softened, that hard, cold look melting as he stepped closer.
"I'm not losing that again."
Ayaan didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath until Rudra stopped in front of him.
Then, with that careful gentleness he always tried to hide, Rudra lifted a hand and brushed his thumb against Ayaan's cheek — the briefest, softest touch.
And before Ayaan could speak, Rudra leaned in and kissed him.
Just a small, lingering kiss — quiet and grounding — like the sigh of a man who'd finally stopped pretending.
When they pulled apart, Rudra whispered, almost as if embarrassed by the words,
"Don't bring coffee next time."
Ayaan tilted his head. "Then what should I bring?"
Rudra's lips curved — faint, but real. "Yourself."
(Me:- 😏)