The night ended without exchanged promises.
Just a business card.
"Call me if you decide my model is worth the risk," he said.
"And if it isn't?"
"Then I'll improve it."
Confidence.
Not arrogance.
He left first.
She watched him walk through the glass doors into the city lights.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her brother:
How was the summit?
She typed back:
Productive.
Then paused.
And added:
Met someone competent.
—
Three days later, she called him.
Not impulsively.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
"I reviewed your projections," she said when he answered.
"And?"
"You underestimated my capital buffer."
A soft exhale on the other end.
"So you're in?"
"I'm willing to test a pilot project."
"And coffee?"
Direct again.
She considered.
This time, it wasn't about power.
It wasn't about protection.
It wasn't about rebuilding.
It was simply… curiosity.
"One hour," she said.
"That's generous."
"Don't misinterpret it."
He laughed lightly.
"I wouldn't dare."
—
At the café, there were no investors.
No assistants.
No titles.
Just two minds at the same table.
He asked about her long-term vision.
She asked about his first failure.
He answered honestly.
She didn't soften her questions.
He didn't dodge them.
Halfway through, he looked at her steadily.
"You don't let people in easily."
"That's efficient."
"And lonely."
The word landed softly.
She didn't respond immediately.
Then—
"Efficiency keeps things stable."
"Sometimes instability builds connection," he replied.
She leaned back slightly.
"You speak like a strategist."
"I speak like someone who's fallen before."
That caught her attention.
"You admit weakness easily."
"I don't consider honesty weakness."
Another quiet shift inside her.
He wasn't trying to conquer her.
He wasn't trying to impress her.
He was meeting her.
—
When the hour ended, neither rushed to leave.
"Ms. Avy," he said gently.
"Arjun."
"Avy."
He adjusted.
"I don't fall easily," he continued calmly. "But I respect you. And I'm… beginning to like you."
No dramatic declaration.
No possessive tone.
Just awareness.
She held his gaze without flinching.
"I don't offer guarantees," she said.
"I don't ask for them."
Silence.
Wind brushing against the café windows.
City noise below.
She stood first.
"Let's see if you're as steady as you claim."
A faint smile.
"I am."
As she walked away, she realized something unexpected.
He did not make her feel protected.
He made her feel seen.
And somewhere between boardroom arguments and quiet coffee conversations—
Arjun Mehra began to fall for Avy.
Not the empire.
Not the reputation.
Her.
And for the first time since the year of borrowed lives…
Avy did not push it away.