I tried to avoid him.

She really did.

For two days, she kept her head down, stayed glued to her screen, timed her breaks so they wouldn’t cross paths. She followed the rules he had laid out so carefully—as if obedience might quiet the restless ache under her skin.

But at the end of the day,

It didn’t.

By the third evening, the office had thinned out again. The familiar hush crept in, wrapping the floor in silence.

She was printing documents when she felt it.

Not footsteps.

Not sound.

Him.

“kiara”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“Yes?” she replied, not turning.

“You didn’t respond to my email.”

She faced him slowly. “I finished the task. I assumed that was enough.”

“It wasn’t,” he said evenly.

Even if the work was done, shouldn't you email me??

The question Arnav asked ,it felt more personal than professional.

He stood a few feet away, posture rigid, jaw tight. The control from earlier days was still there—but strained now, like something pulled too tight.

“Come with me,” he said.

“To your cabin?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “The meeting room.”

Her pulse quickened.

The door closed behind them, softer than she expected.

He didn’t sit. Neither did she.

“You’re testing me,” he said without preamble.

Kiara crossed her arms. “You said no personal conversations.”

“This isn’t personal,” he replied. “This is necessary.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “Necessary for what?”

“So I don’t make a mistake.”

The honesty caught her off guard.

“You already have,” she said softly.

His eyes snapped to hers.

“Say it clearly,” he said.

“Say what?”

“What do you want.”

The room felt charged, every inch of space between them vibrating.

She took a step closer. “You told me not to mistake attention for permission,” she said. “So I didn’t.”

“And now?”

“And now,” she continued, voice steady despite her racing heart, “I want to know what happens if I ask.”

His breath slowed. Deepened.

“kiara” he said quietly, with the warning “if this goes further, it won’t be innocent.”

“I’m not asking for innocent.”

We have lost our innocence long ago.

That did it.

He moved then—fast enough to surprise her, controlled enough not to frighten her. His hand closed around her wrist.

Firm.

Warm.

Real.

Her breath hitched sharply.

He froze instantly.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low, strained.

She looked at his hand. At the way his thumb rested against her pulse.

Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Don’t.”

Something in him broke—just a little.

He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. Instead, he shifted her wrist gently, turning her palm upward. Exposing, not restraining.

“This is as far as it goes,” he said. “You understand?”

She nodded.

Slowly, deliberately, he traced his thumb along the inside of her wrist.

The touch was minimal.

The effect was not.

Her breath stuttered, body reacting before her mind could catch up. She hated how obvious it felt—and loved it.

“You feel that?” he murmured.

“what” she admitted.

This your pluse ,how rapidly it's thudding.

Breathe..

“Good.” His voice dropped. “Because that’s awareness. Not surrender.”

He let his fingers trail lower—just slightly—before pulling away completely.

The sudden absence made her sway.

He stepped back, chest rising and falling more noticeably now.

“This is why we have rules,” he said.

She laughed softly, breathless. “You touched me.”

“I stopped,” he corrected.

She met his gaze. “Barely.”

If it wasn't about rules would you stopped?

Silence stretched again.

Then he turned away.

“You should leave,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Now.”

She hesitated, then nodded and walked toward the door.

Her hand hovered over the handle.

“Arnav” she said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Next time,” she said, not turning, “I won’t ask you not to stop.”

The door closed behind her.

I stayed where i was, staring at the space she’d left—my hand still warm, warmed with her softness , gentleness.

Fuckkkk...

The rules already unraveling......