He lifts an eyebrow. I huff, giving in. “Yes. Okay? Yes, I’m in love.”
His smile widens, but there's something soft behind it. “Abhimaan really did it?”
I laugh. “I don’t think so. Pretty sure it was all me.”
I shrug, but Harsh’s chuckle is warm and fond. “Maybe.”
“When did you come here?” I ask.
“When you were busy imagining Abhimaan, I guess,” he chuckles.
“Someone please help me vanish from here.” I feel a blush rise over my neck.
“Oh,” he laughs, “please, Abhimaan will kill me if something happens to you.” He shakes his head, a smile still visible on his face.
“He would,” I mutter under my breath.
There’s a beat of silence between us, and he leans against the wall, watching me with an unreadable expression.
Then he says, quieter this time, “He’s been through a lot, Aditi. Please… take care of him.”
The weight of those words lands in my chest with a quiet thud. I look at Harsh, his face open and sincere. And I know it’s not just a casual statement. It’s layered. Heavy. Real.
“I will,” I say simply, but it’s a promise. One I intend to keep.
Harsh nods, then glances at the door. “Where is he, by the way?”
“He’s at the Sharma & Co. meeting.”
He hums. “Want me to leave a message?”
“No,” he smiles, “I’ll go meet him.”
I watch as he walks away, disappearing down the hall, and I think—not for the first time—how different their friendship is. Harsh is the only one, apart from me now, who has such effortless access to Abhimaan’s office. He comes and goes as he pleases. No knocking. No checking.
He just walks in.
And Abhimaan never minds.
Which tells me all I need to know about how much he matters.
I turn back to my screen, determined to finally get some work done. A few emails down, a few slides updated, and my phone starts to buzz.
I frown, expecting it to be a calendar reminder, but it’s a call. From Harsh. I answer, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I continue typing.
“Hello?” But there’s no greeting.
Just the sound of wind. And then—“Could you come to Malviya Nagar?”
I freeze. My fingers pause mid-keystroke.
“What?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Harsh again, low and strained.
“Abhimaan is hurt.”
That’s all he says. That’s all I need to hear. My world goes still. Completely, deafeningly still.
