By evening, the office buzz had faded behind Apoorva as she drove home, Roohi chattering softly from the back seat about her day at school. The familiar hum of the car and the golden evening light eased the tension she had carried all day.
Once home, the door clicked shut and quiet settled over the space. Roohi dropped her bag by the sofa and tugged gently at Apoorva's hand. 'Mum, can we read the story tonight?' Apoorva smiled, a warmth spreading across her tired face. 'Of course, sweetheart.'
At night, Apoorva opened the book and began reading softly, letting her voice carry the words gently across the quiet room."As his fingers gently curled around her tiny hand, a warmth and determination washed over him. He didn't know what the future held, didn't know what storms they might face—but he made a silent, unbreakable vow: he would never let her face the world alone, never let a shadow touch her spirit. And in that instant, as if she could feel the weight and depth of his promise, the baby's sleepy face broke into a wide, innocent smile. It was a smile that held understanding far beyond her few days of life—a tiny, perfect acknowledgment of love, safety, and the promise of a father's heart. In that moment, life itself seemed to pause in reverence, and he felt deep in his soul that everything he had lived for had led him to this, to the gift of holding his little girl, and to the purpose she had unknowingly given his life".
Roohi's eyes went wide, her little fingers gripping the edge of the bed. She edged closer to her mother, feeling every emotion in the words. She imagined the tiny baby, the proud father, and the wide, trusting smile that seemed to fill the whole world with light. Apoorva paused, sensing the same warmth. She looked down at Roohi's expectant face, and a gentle warmth spread through her chest. The story wasn't just words on a page—it was love, protection, and hope all wrapped together. In that moment, the room felt calm, filled with the kind of quiet happiness that only family can bring. Almost to herself, Roohi whispered, 'Mum, he really loved her so much, didn't he?' Apoorva smiled and nodded, brushing a strand of hair from Roohi's face. 'Very much, sweetheart. That's what makes the story so special.'
Apoorva turned the page, her voice gentle but alive with the story. "As the baby turned three, she began to mirror her father in the sweetest, smallest ways—the way he walked with quiet purpose, the gentle hums he carried while lost in thought, even the careful way he held his little cup of tea. Each little imitation made him laugh, and a sound full of warmth and wonder and with every laugh, his love for her deepened in ways words could never capture. They shared secrets in small gestures and quiet whispers, a language only they understood. Inspired by the Turkish show they watch together, he would call her by nickname 'Prenses Nadar', his little princess and she would reply with 'Kral Nadar', her tiny tribute to her father, her king.
These names were just words, yet they were the soft threads that wove their hearts together—a bond unspoken and unbreakable, alive in every glance, every touch, every shared smile."
Apoorva paused for a moment, letting the picture form in Roohi's mind. 'See, sweetheart...That's how strong their bond was—just the two of them sharing little secrets, little moments that made them closer every day.' 'Mum, can we have nicknames like that too?' Roohi asked, with her shining eyes.
Apoorva smiled, placing a hand softly on her shoulder, 'Maybe one day, honey. But for now, we have our story—and that's enough to dream about.'
Then Roohi snuggled against her mother and slept peacefully, her breathing soft and even.
Apoorva gazed at her for a long moment before her thoughts began to wander. What if Roohi thought about her father after hearing this story? Until now, she had never brought up the topic, keeping the promise she had made to never ask about him until her mother revealed it herself. Apoorva remembered that Roohi had made this vow when she was just four years old. Even at such a tender age, she had understood the weight of her word and guarded it carefully. This amazed Apoorva - for such a little heart to hold such deep understanding was truly remarkable. And fighting with this thoughts Apoorva slipped into the sleep.
Next day, Apoorva sat in her car, adjusting her dupatta as she waited for the traffic to clear. The early morning sun spilled onto her dashboard, The city buzzed around her, but her focus remained sharp. Finally reaching the office, she parked and stepped inside, ready to dive in. Midway through reviewing reports, her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced down and froze for a brief second. It was from her mother — a photo of a man, neatly dressed, smiling politely. The caption read: "What do you think of this one, Appu? Could be a good match."
"Mom really doesn't get it…" she thought, fingers hovering over the screen. "I don't want to marry. Not now, maybe not ever. My life is… full enough already." Her heart occupied with her daughter, her work, and the spaces left by those who could never return, she thought, gently locking the phone. The life she has built, the love she hold, is enough for her and for Roohi.
Yet, as she held the phone, her vision blurred, not from the glow of the screen but from the swell of emotion rising within her. She understood—so deeply it almost hurt—that her mother, Veena, was not just sending a proposal but a prayer disguised as a picture. A prayer that her daughter would never feel the loneliness, so that Apoorva would have a hand to hold when hers was no longer there. The thought tightened around Apoorva's chest like an invisible thread, tugging at her soul, weaving tenderness with sorrow. Her lips curved into a trembling smile, heavy with gratitude and grief all at once, as though she could already feel her mother's love lingering in the spaces where words failed, in the spaces where one day her absence might echo.
Apoorva exhaled slowly, returning to her work, carrying both the weight of understanding her mother's intentions and the quiet strength of her own choices. As Apoorva sat lost in the tangle of thoughts about her mother, the door to her cabin clicked open without a knock. Aaron strolled in, papers in hand, and casually dropped himself into the chair opposite her as though it had always been his place. He launched into an explanation about the project, his tone brisk and unbothered, while Apoorva sat frozen, her silence betraying her surprise.
When she finally gathered herself, she frowned and asked, her voice edged with quiet annoyance, "Is this how you walk into someone's cabin—without permission—and sit wherever you please?"
Aaron didn't miss a beat. Instead of looking guilty, he leaned back with that disarming smile of his. "If I had asked you to let me in, you would have told me to come inside. If I had asked to sit, you would have told me to sit. So, Apoorva… I only skipped the formalities, because I already knew your answer." For a moment, Apoorva didn't know whether to scold him or laugh. It was the kind of familiarity that felt both intrusive and unexpectedly comforting.
Unable to find a fitting reply, she straightened herself and said calmly, "So… what is it you wanted to discuss?", Aaron tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "Strange… you didn't even scold me for barging in. That's not like you, Apoorva." She met his gaze calmly, her tone steady but firm. "Why would I? You're not my subordinate. You're a lead in your own right, equal to me in another management. It isn't my place to correct you—unless you ever choose the wrong path. As long as you don't, I have no reason to."
Aaron leaned back slightly, a trace of admiration flickering in his eyes. Once again, he felt the weight of Apoorva's quiet superiority—her words carried precision, her reasoning sharper than most. He wondered how someone could be so composed, so firm, yet so unshaken. Clearing his thoughts, he shifted back to the purpose of his visit. "Anyway," he said, pulling out the papers, "I came to finalize our discussion. The first module is complete. Before I submit the final version, I need your opinion."
Apoorva carefully scanned the document, her eyes narrowing at a particular section. "This doesn't align with the client's requirements," she pointed out calmly, her voice carrying quiet firmness. Aaron leaned forward, a spark of confidence in his tone as he explained, "It's not an error, Apoorva. I thought of it as an extra feature—something that could enhance the module and perhaps even make the client happier." But Apoorva shook her head gently, her gaze steady. "That's not our responsibility, Aaron. We're here to deliver exactly what the client wants. Nothing more, nothing less. Extras, even with good intent, can create confusion."
Aaron's eyes gleamed with quiet determination. "Apoorva, I'm certain the client will love this feature," he said, his tone carrying a mix of confidence and persuasion. Apoorva, however, kept her arms folded, her expression firm. "That's not what was asked for," she reminded him sharply. But Aaron didn't back down. Instead, he leaned in, his voice softening but holding steady. "I'm asking you to trust me on this. Let's go ahead with it—and if anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility."
Apoorva's expression hardened the moment Aaron insisted. She tapped her pen lightly on the table and said, "Aaron, you don't understand. I am the one who sits with the client face to face. If I present something that is not his requirement, how do you expect me to justify it? He might feel we are ignoring his instructions. That would affect my credibility." Her tone was calm but firm, carrying a trace of displeasure.
Aaron, however, leaned forward with his usual confidence, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Apoorva, I know this isn't part of his checklist. But believe me, once he sees this feature, he won't complain. It will make his product stronger and user-friendly. I don't want you to carry the weight of explaining it alone—I'll be there beside you in the client meeting. If any explanation is needed, I'll take responsibility."
For a moment, Apoorva remained silent. She had always managed client conversations alone, carefully keeping them on track. Now, having someone else promise to share the stage felt unusual. Her pride resisted, but Aaron's assurance planted a small seed of relief—at least she wouldn't be standing alone if questions arose. Still, her brows furrowed. "I hope you understand, Aaron… responsibility in words is easy. But in meetings, one wrong explanation can cost our trust. I won't tolerate even a small slip."
Aaron nodded without hesitation. "Then let me prove it. If it goes wrong, blame me—not you, not the team." Apoorva sighed softly, sensing his determination. Deep inside, she still disliked the unpredictability. Yet, she also admired his courage to stand firm. Apoorva finally nodded, though a faint line of worry remained etched on her face. She pulled out her planner, carefully flipping to the page marked with the client's timeline. Sliding the sheet across to Aaron, she said firmly, "This is the schedule of the upcoming client meeting. I've already outlined the agenda and key discussion points. Make sure you go through it thoroughly." Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she added, in her usual composed but unmistakably serious tone, "If you find anything unclear or if you want to add context to your feature, don't hesitate to contact me beforehand. I don't like last-minute surprises when it comes to clients."
Aaron took the document, glancing at her neat, precise notes. He noticed how every item was written with such clarity—Apoorva's trademark perfection. He gave her a half-smile, trying to lighten the tension, "Don't worry. I'll go through this word by word. If there's any confusion, you'll be the first one I call."
Apoorva raised an eyebrow, almost skeptical, but said nothing. Deep inside, she wasn't convinced, but she knew she had given him the responsibility he had so boldly asked for. For her, the client's trust was paramount. For Aaron, this was his chance to prove that going beyond requirements could sometimes win hearts. The room fell quiet for a moment—Apoorva with her thoughts about risks, Aaron with his silent determination to stand by his decision.
Yet, because of the changes Aaron had introduced, Apoorva found herself with extra work to adjust and align everything before the client meeting. That evening, when the office began to empty, most of the building was dark. Apoorva sat hunched over her laptop, the blue glow reflecting in her eyes as she scrolled through her work. A half-empty mug of tea sat beside her, long gone cold.
Aaron noticed her staying back, and though he had no urgent tasks left, he quietly stayed too, pretending to be engrossed in his system. In truth, he just didn't want her to feel alone in the long hours that stretched ahead. From the hallway came the sound of footsteps. She didn't even have to look up to know.
Apoorva: without glancing away from the screen "You're still here?"
Aaron: walking in with a file under his arm "Could say the same to you."
He set the file down beside her desk, leaning slightly over her screen. Apoorva could feel the quiet intensity he carried everywhere — not intimidating, but impossible to ignore.
Apoorva: "Finalizing the tomorrow's meeting schedule, You?"
Aaron: "Just making sure the new testing feature is compatible before tomorrow's run."
They worked in silence for a while — not the strained silence of two people avoiding each other, but the rare kind that happens when both are too focused to waste words. Every now and then, Apoorva caught him glancing at her screen, his brow furrowing slightly before he offered a quiet suggestion. She pretended to weigh his input before applying it — though secretly, she was grateful. At one point, Aaron slid a fresh cup of coffee toward her without looking up from his own work.
Apoorva: raising an eyebrow at the coffee "Is this… a peace offering?"
Aaron: shrugs "Think of it as strategic fuel. We've got a long day."
Apoorva: half-smile "Fair enough."
When they finally packed up, it was past midnight. As they walked out side-by-side, neither said it out loud, but both knew — the project had just shifted from hers or his to theirs. They parted to their respective ways.
A faint smile tugged at her lips, though she didn't admit it out loud. "He really does think differently… sharp, but bold," she thought, acknowledging his confidence. But Apoorva was not someone who left things half-prepared. After reaching home, She took out her notebook and began jotting down points—possible questions the client might raise, concerns that could pop up, and clear justifications that would be needed. She underlined a few areas where Aaron might stumble, being new to handling client discussions, and added her own backup explanations. It was as if she was doing homework not just for herself, but also for him—ensuring that when the meeting happened, she could step in and support him if needed. For the first time, Apoorva realized she wasn't just preparing for her own responsibility, but she was also quietly building a shield for Aaron, so he would not feel lost in front of the client.