The weekend had melted away in a haze of comfort. Piya had kept her promise to herself—movies, naps, chips, and nothing else. But Monday morning came too quickly, and with it, the weight of responsibility.
Standing before ShadowByte's gleaming glass tower, she whispered under her breath, Fresh week. Fresh start. Nothing happened at that club. Nobody knows anything. Forget the club. Forget him.
With that fragile armor, she stepped inside.
Asha was already scrolling on her phone, her expression twisted in disbelief.
"You won't believe this, Piya," she burst out the moment Piya sat down. "That arrogant idiot—Joe—liked one of my pictures. From two years ago! Who even scrolls back that far?"
Piya tried to play along, though her stomach sank. So he already has her details... how?
"Maybe he's, uh... persistent," Piya offered, lips twitching nervously.
"Persistent? He's a stalker," Asha huffed, though her pink cheeks betrayed more fluster than fury. "He thinks he can charm me with his stupid smirk. As if."
Piya only nodded, keeping her own secret locked inside. Not a word about the private lounge. Not a word about Liam's eyes, about his hand tying her dress, about how her heart hadn't calmed since.
The office buzzed with tension—final touches on the new game project were underway. Mistakes became magnified; every employee moved like they were walking on glass.
That afternoon, Piya's manager appeared at her desk. "Piya, you'll help arrange the boardroom for the meeting with Mr. Knight. Double-check everything. No errors."
Her pulse quickened. "Me? Alone?"
"You and a couple others, but you'll oversee the setup," her manager replied briskly, already walking away.
Piya sat frozen. Of all places... why there? Why him?
The boardroom gleamed under spotless white lights, the long table polished to a mirror finish. Piya moved from one chair to another, aligning notepads, smoothing pens, fixing every bottle of water as though the smallest imperfection could ruin the entire meeting.
Her palms were damp. It's just preparation. No big deal. Just do your job, Piya.
Then the door opened.
Liam entered.
He didn't need to announce himself—the atmosphere shifted instantly, as though the very air recognized his authority. The secretary followed, balancing files, but Liam's presence eclipsed everything else. Dark suit tailored sharp to his tall frame, crisp shirt, tie knotted with effortless precision.
He walked with unhurried confidence, each step echoing in the silence. His coat slid from his shoulders in a smooth motion, and he draped it neatly over the chair at the head of the table. Not a wasted movement, not a single flicker of uncertainty.
Piya's breath caught. Her hands froze mid-adjustment of a chair.
Why does he look like... he owns the entire world?
The secretary began rattling off schedules, upcoming deadlines, reports. Liam didn't interrupt, didn't nod excessively—he simply listened, his face composed, unreadable. But the weight of his silence was heavier than any words.
And then—
His eyes lowered. Just slightly.
For one fleeting moment, they landed on her.
Dark, calm, unreadable. Yet it felt like being pinned under a spotlight. Her throat tightened, and she ducked her head, fumbling with the papers in her hand. Her reflection wavered faintly in the polished table; she looked like a guilty child caught sneaking in a classroom.
"Is the room ready?"
The question was simple, directed to no one in particular. But Piya panicked, thinking it was aimed straight at her.
"Y-Yes, sir!" she blurted, her voice cracking embarrassingly.
The secretary blinked at her, startled, then nodded to confirm.
Liam's gaze flicked to her again. One word left his lips—calm, final.
"Good."
That was it. No scolding, no recognition, no smile. Just that single word. But it echoed inside her chest louder than the ticking clock on the wall.
Piya backed away quickly, clutching her clipboard as though it were a shield. She almost tripped on the threshold in her hurry to escape.
Behind her, Liam had already moved his attention back to the files. But for Piya, her pulse was still running, her cheeks burning, and her thoughts a storm.
Outside, Asha leaned against her desk, waiting. "Finally! You look like you just saw a ghost. Or..." she grinned wickedly, "the CEO."
Piya shook her head furiously. "It's nothing. The room's ready."
Asha pouted but let it drop, muttering about getting snacks from the vending machine.
Not far away, Joe strolled over to Ram's desk.
"So," Joe drawled, "about that girl—Asha. What department is she in again?"
Ram didn't look up from his files. "I can't share employee details without reason." His voice was clipped, professional.
"Oh, come on. Don't be so stiff," Joe said with an exaggerated sigh.
Ram finally looked at him, unimpressed. "This is a workplace, Mr. Turner. Not a dating service."
Joe smirked, unbothered, before sauntering away.
That night, Piya sat by her window. "Mr. Moon," she whispered, "I don't know what's happening to me. I keep bumping into him when I least expect it. And every time... my heart forgets how to beat properly."
Her fingers tugged at her pillow. The image of Liam lowering his eyes in that silent room burned in her mind. She hugged the pillow tighter, as if it could shield her from her own thoughts.
But sleep came only after she repeated to herself a hundred times: Stay away. Hide if you have to. Never let him notice you again.