Rain always came at the worst possible time.
Aarvi Sharma stood outside the glass doors of Malhotra Dynamics, drenched, clutching the folder that held the only thing she had left—hope.
A borrowed shirt.
Shoes that squeaked when she walked.
Hair she tried smoothing down with trembling hands.
Perfect way to start an interview.
She took a breath that didn't calm anything and stepped into the lobby. The place felt intimidating even in silence—polished floors, expensive lighting, a kind of cold that didn't come from the AC but from how out of place she felt.
The receptionist didn't even look up. "Name?"
"Aarvi… Aarvi Sharma. I'm here for the secretary position."
A glance. Quick, sharp, judgmental.
"You're late."
Her stomach dropped. "I'm really sorry. The bus broke dow—"
"He doesn't accept excuses," the woman cut in, tapping her nails on the desk. "But you can go up. Level 42. CEO's office."
Aarvi nodded nervously and hurried to the elevator. She needed this job. She needed the money. Her mother's hospital bills weren't going to wait for her confidence to show up.
Inside the elevator, she stared at her reflection.
She looked tired. Anxious. Not like someone meant to work in a place made of glass and steel.
When the doors opened, the top floor felt quieter—too quiet.
She knocked once.
"Come in," a deep voice answered.
She stepped inside, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.
Riyan Malhotra stood near the window, tall, confident, the city lights cutting sharp lines across his face. He didn't look like a man—he looked like every impossible standard the world had ever created.
He turned, and his eyes met hers. There was no warmth. No softness. Just quiet power that made her straighten her back instinctively.
"You're late," he said.
Two words.
Yet she felt them like a slap.
"I'm very sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"It shouldn't." His tone didn't change. "Sit."
She obeyed.
He opened her file. Barely ten seconds passed. He didn't ask a single question. Didn't even look mildly interested.
She could feel her heart punching her ribs. If he rejected her, she had nothing to go back to.
Finally, he closed the file.
"You're hired."
Aarvi blinked. "I… sorry? Hired?"
"You start today."
She felt air return to her lungs—but only for a second.
His gaze fixed on hers, unreadable.
"And, Miss Sharma," he added quietly, "in this office, everything stays professional. No emotional involvement. No crossing lines."
The warning wasn't harsh.
It was strangely… personal.
Aarvi nodded, confused but relieved.
She didn't know then—
those were the exact lines both of them would end up crossing.
And one day, it would break her.