The office buzzed with the usual Monday rush. Piya sat at her desk, nervously scrolling through the document on her screen. It was her first proper assignment, and her hands trembled just a little as she typed.
"Why do you look like you're about to write the constitution instead of an email?" Asha's voice came from behind, half amused and half scolding.
Piya puffed her cheeks. "This is serious, okay? If I mess up, what if they fire me on the spot?"
Asha rolled her eyes dramatically and leaned on Piya's chair. "Relax, Miss Catastrophe. It's just formatting data. Nobody's life depends on it."
Piya bit her lip but couldn't help a small laugh. That's when a warm voice cut through the air.
"Good morning, ladies."
Both turned to see Ram standing there, coffee cup in hand, with his signature easy smile. He had that gentle kind of charm—the kind that made people instantly feel at ease.
"Good morning, Ram," Asha said, sounding a little too casual, like she was used to him already.
Piya nodded quickly, trying not to stare at how effortlessly confident he seemed. "Morning."
Ram glanced at Piya's screen and crouched beside her desk. "First assignment?"
She blinked. "H-how do you know?"
He chuckled softly. "It was obvious seeing your expressions. Look—" He pointed to a section on her document. "Just align this properly. Don't overthink it. You're doing fine."
Piya felt her heart skip for a second, and she managed a smile. "Thanks."
"Anytime." Ram stood, flashing that same warm grin before heading toward his team.
Asha leaned closer with a smirk. "You like him."
"I do not!" Piya whisper-yelled, cheeks warm.
Asha, carrying a stack of documents, turned a corner at the same time as Joe, who was walking with his coffee like he owned the entire building.
Crash!
Coffee spilled across the floor. Documents scattered everywhere.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Asha snapped, glaring at him.
Joe looked equally offended. "Excuse me? You bumped into me!"
"Oh, please. You're the one strutting around like it's your private runway."
"Maybe it is." Joe puffed his chest, smirking. "Do you even know who I am?"
Asha rolled her eyes. "A narcissist with a bad barber?"
Gasps rippled from nearby employees.
Joe looked personally attacked. "This—this is a designer look!"
"In your dreams," Asha retorted, dusting off her documents.
Piya rushed forward, panicked. "Asha, please—don't make a scene. Come on!" She tugged her friend away, whispering apologies to the onlookers.
Joe muttered under his breath, glaring. "Unbelievable. I won't let this slide."
And with that, he stormed toward the CEO's office.
Inside, Liam Asher sat at his desk, reviewing documents with his usual sharp calm. The tall windows behind him cast long shadows, making him look like he belonged to another world.
The door banged open.
"You won't believe what just happened!" Joe shouted. "This intern—she spilled coffee on me and insulted me in front of everyone!"
Liam didn't look up. "Hm."
"That's all? Hm? My dignity is in ruins!" Joe flailed dramatically. "I should be compensated for emotional damage."
Liam continued signing papers, unbothered. "You'll live."
Joe groaned. "You treat me worse than your staff, Liam. Do you even care?"
Still no reaction.
"Unbelievable," Joe muttered. "You're like a robot. A ridiculously handsome robot, but still a robot."
Just then, Liam's phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID. For the first time, his expression shifted—calm composure giving way to something rare: respect.
He answered immediately, his voice lower, steadier.
"Yes. I understand."
"...I'll see to it personally."
Joe blinked, stunned. Whoever was on the other side had power enough to silence even Liam Asher's indifference.
The call ended. Liam set the phone down, face unreadable.
The office air felt heavier, as though something important had just brushed past and vanished, leaving only questions behind.
The evening air was soft as Piya and Asha shared a cab back home. Asha leaned her head against the window, still buzzing from the day, while Piya clutched her bag close, replaying every detail in her mind. The building, the whispers about the CEO, the strange intensity of the office—it all felt overwhelming, but strangely exciting too.
"So..." Asha finally asked, "first day—how was it?"
Piya exhaled, staring out the window. "Overwhelming. Like... way too much. I felt like I was walking in someone else's dream."
"Welcome to the corporate world, sweetheart." Asha grinned. "It's always chaos, but you'll get used to it. And hey—at least you didn't faint in front of the manager. That's progress."
Piya groaned. "Don't remind me. My hands were shaking so badly during the introduction."
"Shaking? Please, you looked like you were auditioning for a thriller movie." Asha teased, making Piya laugh despite herself.
When they reached home, Asha ended up staying for dinner. Piya's mother welcomed her warmly, piling food onto her plate despite her protests.
"You're Piya's friend?" her father asked, eyebrows raised.
"More like her survival guide," Asha replied with a wink. "Your daughter is a nervous wreck at work, but I promise I'll keep her safe."
"Good," Piya's dad said, pretending to look serious. "Because she needs someone brave next to her. Otherwise, she'll run away from the office on day two."
"Dad!" Piya protested, cheeks pink.
The table erupted in laughter, the kind that lingered even after plates were cleared. For the first time in a long while, Piya felt seen. She wasn't invisible here. She was Piya—daughter, friend, a girl who had people to come home to.
Later that night, lying in her bed, she peeked out the window. The moon hung heavy in the dark sky, glowing faintly as if listening. "I don't know what tomorrow will bring," she whispered softly, "but... I think I'm ready to find out."
On the other side of the city, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.
Inside a private bar, dimly lit with amber glow, Liam Asher sat with Joe and another man—his third, closest friend, though his name remained unspoken for now. A bottle of aged wine rested on their table, half empty.
Joe, as usual, was running his mouth.
"You know, Liam, they should throw you a statue in front of the company. A god deserves recognition. At least then the girls who worship you wouldn't keep blocking my way in the lobby." He laughed, raising his glass dramatically.
The third friend smirked. "Ignore him, Liam. He's bitter that no one notices him when you're around."
"I am very noticeable, thank you," Joe shot back, pretending to flip his hair. "Unlike our silent king here, who thinks sipping wine counts as conversation."
Liam, unfazed, leaned back, glass in hand, his calm eyes betraying nothing. "Noise doesn't always equal presence, Joe."
"See? That's exactly what I mean," Joe threw his hands up. "You drop one sentence and suddenly it feels like the whole room's listening to a sermon."
Joe leaned back dramatically, waving his glass. "So, Mr. Silent King, care to explain why you dragged me out of bed? Do you know how valuable my beauty sleep is?"
"You don't have beauty to begin with," the third friend deadpanned, making Liam's lips twitch slightly.
Joe gasped, clutching his chest. "Excuse me? For your information, at least five women checked me out this morning."
"Five imaginary women," Liam murmured calmly, eyes fixed on his glass.
The table burst into chuckles—well, Joe laughed loudly, the third friend smirked, and Liam... barely smiled.
"See!" Joe pointed at him. "That little curve on his lips? That's his way of laughing. What a tragedy. A man this handsome, this rich, this powerful—and he doesn't even enjoy a proper laugh. If I had your face, Liam, the world would be kneeling."
"You already think it does," the third friend remarked.
Joe glared at him. "Don't be jealous just because my charm is lethal."
Liam's calm voice cut through their playful fight. "Enough."
They quieted, not out of fear, but out of habit. His tone always carried weight—measured, grounded, final.
The third friend cleared his throat, steering the conversation. "So. About your grandfather's call... Have you decided anything?"
For a moment, Liam was still. The glass in his hand caught the amber light as he swirled it, gaze distant. No reply. Just the sound of wine against crystal.
Joe narrowed his eyes. "That silence means trouble. I bet it's about the family company again, isn't it?"
The third friend leaned forward. "And the marriage talk?"
Liam's jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he remained wordless, sipping his wine.
Joe leaned back, watching him. His usual playful tone softened, though sarcasm still laced his words. "You know what's funny? You're the only man I know who never lets anyone decide his life. Not even me, your best friend. And definitely not your father."
He smirked, raising his glass lazily. "So honestly? I'm kind of looking forward to the day you and your father finally collide. That's going to be a show worth watching."
The third friend chuckled under his breath, but Liam's expression didn't waver. His calm, unreadable aura filled the silence. Only the faintest flicker of thought crossed his eyes—like a storm hidden deep beneath the surface of an ocean.
Joe sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if even you know what goes on inside that head of yours."
For a heartbeat, the bar was silent. Liam's lips curved into the faintest, unreadable smile, as if he'd already decided something—but kept it locked away, just like always—just enough to leave both men wondering.