Abhimaan.
Standing barefoot in black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his hair slightly messy like he ran his fingers through it a dozen times today. His arms—dear lord—his arms are on full display, and the fabric of the t-shirt stretches just a little too perfectly across his chest.
I forget how to breathe.
“Oh, hi. I—uh—I was just... I just arrived, and I was going to ring the bell,” I ramble, the words tripping over themselves like my brain lost the memo.
His mouth curves into a soft smile, and it almost knocks me off my feet. “You’re here,” he says simply. Like that’s enough. Like I’m enough.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.
I walk in slowly, eyes taking in everything like it’s all new again. The familiar scent—clean laundry and something spicy—hits me first. Then the sight of the panda blanket folded neatly on the couch, the tiny cactus I bought because I thought he needed company still perched on the bookshelf, and the pink post-it note that says “Drink water, you dehydrated grump” still stuck to the fridge.
“I thought you’d thrown all this away,” I say with a shy chuckle, brushing my hand over the blanket.
He closes the door behind me. “I would never throw away something you gave me, Aditi.”
I turn toward him, heart skipping. There’s no flirtation in his tone, no teasing. Just... truth. Honest and soft.
He walks to the couch and sits, legs spread like always, one arm resting on the back casually. I stand there like an awkward mannequin, clutching the strap of my bag, wondering how to even begin.
“Would you like water?” he asks.
“No, I’m fine.” My voice is tight. Too tight.
A few seconds pass. I remain standing.
Then I start pacing.
“I know this is weird,” I begin, hands gesturing wildly, “me just showing up like this. And I know we didn’t really talk after... you know... Jaipur. And I kept thinking maybe I should wait, maybe you’d call, or maybe I should just let it go, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I didn’t know where we stood. And I’m okay not putting a label if that’s what you want, but I just—I need to know.”
He watches me. Quiet. Still.
And because he won’t say anything, my nervousness spikes. I keep talking.
“Because it’s already complicated, right? You’re my boss. Well, technically, kind of my boss. Or are you considering that I resigned, but I haven’t given you the resignation letter, and you did not say anything about it, so I don’t know, and I didn’t call because I felt this is something we should talk about face-to-face, right? I really wanted to talk, but I had to stay too because I’m weak and Rudrani is my entire heart, and I can’t say no to her. But then I got back today, and I thought, ‘What if it was just a Jaipur thing?’ But I don’t want it to be just a Jaipur thing. I don’t think it was. And I don’t know where you stand. I just...”
I don’t even realize he’s moved until I turn mid-rant and slam right into his chest.
His hands come up gently to steady me, one on my elbow, the other brushing my hair away from my face.
My breath catches. He’s so close. “Breathe, darling,” he says softly, his voice low and calm. He calls me Darling, and he wants me to BREATHE? Impossible.
I blink up at him, dazed. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“I know.” He smiles. “I like it.”
I blink again. “You do?”
He nods. “Keeps me grounded.”
That makes my heart skip. Again. He tilts his head, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, but what do you want?”
His words take the air out of my lungs.
Because no one’s ever asked me that before. Not like this. Not without conditions or expectations. Just... offering himself with a kind of quiet bravery that undoes me.
