And modesty? That’s definitely not his strong suit. He boasts about his achievements like it’s second nature. Then again, he has every right to be proud—he’s a self-made man, after all. His confidence isn’t arrogance. It’s rooted in the struggles he’s overcome, and I’m starting to understand that now.
I’ve always hated eating in front of others—it makes me feel exposed. Judged. But lately, with Rudraksh, it’s getting easier. He never looks at me like I’m doing something wrong. He makes me feel like it's all worth it. Instead, he teases me with that same line every single time:
"Kids eat more than you, Shivani." And then he narrows his eyes at me until I take another bite.
Right now, our video call is still on. We’ve already had lunch, but he said he’d miss me if I hung up. So here I am, sitting in front of the screen while he works, trying not to blush every time he looks at me. He’s not even saying anything—just occasionally glancing up from his files to tease me with that smug smirk.
His phone rings, and he answers it. While he continues to talk on a call, I take the opportunity to get some of my own work done. I’m currently continuing the book I was working onbefore... before everything got complicated. My parents had cloned my laptop, invaded my privacy, and threatened me about writing ever again, and I couldn’t write anymore. But I’m back at it now.
It’s a friends-to-lovers billionaire romance, and I’ve poured so much of myself into it. I was writing a mafia romance, but I keep jumping between projects. Frustration creeps up on me, and I shake my head. Why can’t I just focus on one and finish it? I still haven’t told Rudraksh that I want to be a writer.I want to be a writer not just as a hobby, but as a career. Writing is what makes me feel alive, like I have a voice. But I don’t know how he’ll react. People often don’t take it seriously. To them, it’s just... words. Fiction. A side thing. But not to me. It's the thing that gives me hope.
I’ll tell him one day. Maybe once this book is done. Maybe when I am really confident about it. Right now, though, the words are flowing, and I don’t want to jinx it.
He finishes his call. I look up, expecting him to glance my way, but he’s back to his files again. I huff dramatically, hoping he’ll notice, but he doesn’t. So much for "I’ll miss you."
Still, I can’t stop looking at him. His strong jawline, the sharp cheekbones, the way his brows furrow slightly in concentration—it all makes my heart flutter. He’s so effortlessly handsome. His hair is slightly messy, falling over his forehead in a way that just... works. He finally looks at me and smiles, and I swear my heart skips a beat. There’s a dimple on his cheek when he grins like that, making him look younger and so endearing.
“God, you’re so handsome." The words slip out before I can stop them, and then my eyes widen.
"Did I just say that out loud?" I gasp and cover half of my mouth with my palms.
He grins, wide and shameless. “Yes.” Rudraksh chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yes, you did,” he assures, voice thick with smug satisfaction.
My cheeks flush instantly. He leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me. “But you know,” he adds, smirking, “I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“Obviously,” I mumble, rolling my eyes playfully, trying to recover from my embarrassment. He always knows how to make me flustered—and he loves it. “Don’t let it go to your head,” I warn him with a mock glare.
“Too late for that,” he replies, his laughter low and warm.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze intense and steady. It feels like he’s looking right through me, like he sees more than I’m letting on. And honestly? That kind of attention both thrills and terrifies me.
“If only I had your level of confidence,” I murmur.
His expression softens instantly. “You will, Shivani,” he says gently. “In fact, it’s one of my life goals—to make you feel confident. And beautiful. Always.”
I feel something shift in my chest. Like my heart is swelling with gratitude. I’m so lucky to have him.
A beat passes between us, and I clear my throat as I lean on the fist of my hand and stare at him.
“What are your other life goals?” I ask, genuinely curious now.
“One of them,” he trails, a soft smile playing on his lips, “is to someday have a house full of chaos. Kids running around. Maybe... little versions of you.” Rudraksh completes his words, a proud look in his eyes as he stares at me.
I blink. My heart stumbles. “A huge family?” I repeat, not quite believing I heard that right.
He laughs, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Yeah,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I want a house full of chaos. A bunch of littleversions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way possible.”
“You mean I already drive you crazy?” I narrow my eyes at him, pretending to be offended.
“More than you know,” he teases, his lips curling into a smirk. again. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I smile, my heart full. These little moments—our playful banter, the way he looks at me like I matter, the way he dreams of a future with me—they’re everything. For someone who always felt like an outsider, like I had to fight to be seen, Rudraksh makes me feel like I belong. Like I’m home.
“I should let you work now,” I murmur softly, my words coming out in almost a whisper, no longer wanting to interrupt him.
He nods, gives me one last smile that lingers even after the screen goes dark, and ends the call.
28
