22
A week had slipped by since that quiet evening of coffee and silence. Life had shifted back into its relentless pace.
Vaani was buried neck-deep in her Abu Dhabi project.
Even though the designs were nearly finalized and her team was more than capable of handling things, she couldn't bring herself to step back entirely.
She liked to oversee every detail, every line, every adjustment—her name would be on this work, after all.
It wasn't just a project; it was credibility, stability, and money she badly needed.
Dhruv, on the other hand, was absorbed in his own work.
The upcoming Abu Dhabi office was moving faster than expected, and he'd been balancing between conference calls, client visits, and endless paperwork.
They crossed each other in the mornings, sometimes shared chai if the timings worked, and occasionally exchanged polite questions in the evenings.
But mostly, they were each lost in their own worlds.
It was 3:30 p.m. on a weekday, the afternoon sun casting long streaks of gold across the living room floor.
Dhruv walked in, his blazer draped over one arm, tie loosened.
He was earlier than usual—one of his meetings had been canceled last minute, giving him a rare pocket of free time.
He expected the house to be quiet, maybe his brothers-in-law napping or glued to their laptops, and Vaani tucked away in her room with her designs.
Instead, as he stepped in, he caught sight of her at the door.
She was in crisp formal clothes—a soft beige blouse tucked neatly into black trousers, a structured handbag slung over her shoulder. Her hair was tied back, not in her usual casual bun, but a sleek ponytail. The faint hint of lipstick, the precise eyeliner—she looked polished, professional.
He stopped mid-step. "You have work now?" His tone wasn't accusing, just surprised.
Vaani turned, a little startled to see him back so soon. For a second, her lips parted, as though she wasn't sure what to say. Then she smiled lightly. "Oh, no... nothing. I just have a meeting."
"A meeting?" He frowned slightly, glancing at the clock, then back at her.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, a little defensive at the way he was looking at her. "Yes. Just a meeting, Dhruv."
He let out a small breath, still curious. "Should I drop you?" The words slipped out before he could second-guess them.
Her eyes widened for a second. "Oh—" She hesitated. It wasn't exactly a personal errand, and the place was quite far. Cabs were unreliable in that stretch, and the metro wouldn't get her close enough. After a moment of weighing her options, she gave a small nod. "If... it's not an issue."
"Let's go," he said simply, already heading toward the door.
The drive was quiet at first. The hum of the AC, the low sound of the road beneath the tires—filled the silence between them. Vaani kept her gaze on the window, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't want him to ask, and she hoped he wouldn't.
Dhruv, meanwhile, stole glances at her every now and then. Something about her body language was different—alert, careful, like she was on guard. He didn't press her with questions, though; it wasn't his style. Still, the curiosity settled in his chest like an itch.
They drove past Sheikh Zayed Road, then turned off toward a quieter district—Bur Dubai, old and bustling, nothing like the sleek offices and glass towers they were usually accustomed to.
Finally, she spoke. "It's just here," she said softly, pointing ahead.
He slowed the car, pulling up outside a simple three-story building. Not a high-end office, not a hotel conference room—just an old commercial space tucked between small shops. The board outside read something generic, half-faded from the sun.
He blinked, puzzled. "Here?"
She was already unbuckling her seatbelt. She gave him a polite smile, the kind that was final, closing the conversation before it started. "Yes. Thank you for the ride."
He turned slightly in his seat, brows furrowing. "How long will you take?"
She paused, considering. "I don't know... maybe an hour? You don't have to wait, I'll come."
He nodded once. "Alright."
Her smile softened just a fraction. "Thanks." She slipped out, her heels clicking softly on the pavement as she walked toward the building.
Dhruv sat back, his hand still on the steering wheel, watching her retreating figure. She carried herself with quiet confidence, but there was something about the way she disappeared into that unremarkable building that made him frown.
A meeting? In Bur Dubai? At a place like this?
He tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, debating. He didn't want to pry—he hated it when people pried. But this wasn't adding up. She had a good position, a respected career. Meetings for her usually meant sleek towers in DIFC or Marina, not... here.
Still, she had asked him for the ride. She had trusted him enough for that. He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his seat, telling himself to wait. To respect her space.
But his eyes kept flickering back to the building door, where she'd vanished, his mind circling with questions he didn't even want to admit he had.
The building smelled faintly of disinfectant and old paper, the kind of scent that clung to shared office corridors.
The walls were painted in muted beige, the kind that tried too hard to look professional but ended up looking tired.
Vaani adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder, keeping her steps firm but not hurried as she walked past a row of small glass doors with fading vinyl signs pasted on them.
Her heels clicked against the tiled floor.
A part of her wanted to turn back, but she forced her face into calmness.
She had already made up her mind—this was necessary.
Not for herself, but for Vihaan. For Vedant.
For the endless list of numbers on her spreadsheet that threatened to swallow her whole.
At the end of the corridor, she found the office she was looking for. A neat plaque beside the glass door read: Aster Global Services – Branch Office.
She pushed the door open gently. Inside, the space was simple but tidy—rows of desks, a couple of employees hunched over laptops, a small reception counter with a polite-looking young man sitting behind it. He glanced up as she entered.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Uh, I have a meeting with Ms. Farah," Vaani replied, straightening her blouse.
The young man gave a small nod, pressed a button on his phone, murmured into it, then looked up again. "You can go right in. Second cabin to the left."
"Thank you," Vaani said softly, her voice carrying more confidence than she actually felt.
She walked toward the indicated cabin, knocked lightly, and waited.
"Come in!" came a warm voice from inside.
Vaani stepped in. The cabin was modestly furnished—one desk, two visitor chairs, shelves lined with files, and a potted plant by the window.
Behind the desk sat a woman in her early forties, with short hair tucked neatly behind her ears, dressed in a navy blue suit.
She had an approachable smile, but there was sharpness in her eyes, the kind of sharpness that came from years of working her way through corporate ladders.
"Ah, Vaani Joshi," the woman said, standing slightly to greet her. "Welcome. I've been waiting."
Vaani offered a polite smile as she slid into the visitor's chair. "Hi, Ms. Farah. Thank you for taking the time."
"Please, just Farah," the woman replied, settling back into her seat. "So," she continued, folding her hands on the desk, "I've gone through your profile. Impressive work in design and project handling. I heard from the team that you were keen on starting remotely, correct?"
Vaani exhaled softly, relieved that the conversation was starting exactly where she needed it to.
"Yes. I'm currently working full-time, and I'd prefer if this role could be remote.
At least mostly. I can manage if I need to come into the office occasionally, but day-to-day, I'd prefer to work from home. "
Farah nodded thoughtfully, tapping her pen lightly on the desk. "I understand. And honestly, given the position we're offering, that shouldn't be an issue. It's not an entry-level role. Your tasks will be primarily strategic and supervisory."
She glanced at the papers in front of her, then looked back up.
"The role we're considering you for is Senior Project Coordinator.
It involves overseeing design rollouts for our international clients, coordinating with teams across different time zones, and ensuring deliverables stay on schedule.
For this, as long as you're reachable and equipped with your device, remote work is fine.
But—" her tone sharpened just slightly, "we'd like you to report at least once a month in person.
To stay aligned and connected to the team. Would that be manageable?"
Vaani nodded almost instantly. "Of course. Once a month is absolutely fine."
Farah's smile returned, approving. "Good. You seem committed. Now, let's talk about the part everyone is most eager for—the salary."
Vaani's spine straightened unconsciously. This was the part that mattered most to her right now. She tried to keep her face neutral, but her palms pressed slightly into her trousers to steady her nerves.
Farah leaned back, speaking with the ease of someone who had negotiated hundreds of such discussions.
"Given your background, your portfolio, and the level of responsibility this role carries, we're prepared to offer you 30,000 AED a month.
Inclusive of allowances. Of course, there will be performance bonuses later, but this would be your fixed pay. "
For a heartbeat, Vaani thought she had misheard.
Thirty thousand. The number echoed in her head.
Not small, not insignificant—this could actually help for her family's situation.
Rent, groceries, Vihaan's Columbia fees, Vedant's UK tuition, the reception expenses.
.. everything seemed to arrange itself neatly in her mental checklist as though this one number had given her small breathing space.
Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of her bag, and she forced herself not to show too much relief. She needed to remain professional. "That's... fair. Thank you," she said carefully, nodding once.
Farah studied her expression, then smiled again, as if sensing the weight those numbers carried for her. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. I'll have the paperwork drawn up and emailed to you. We can finalize the onboarding process digitally."
Vaani nodded again, this time allowing a genuine smile to tug at her lips. "I appreciate it, Farah. Really."
"Welcome aboard, Vaani. I think you'll do well here. My colleague will now take you for the tour of your area, so you know how things are and brief you on everything before you start." Farah said, standing to extend her hand.
Vaani stood too, clasping the woman's hand firmly. "Thank you."
With that, the meeting was over. Vaani gathered her bag, smoothed the front of her blouse, and stepped back out into the corridor. The office seemed brighter now, though she knew it was just her mood shifting.
She walked through the lobby again, offering a polite smile to the receptionist who barely glanced up from his phone this time. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor once more, but now every sound carried a subtle rhythm of victory, of relief.
By the time she reached the glass door and pushed it open, the dry heat of Dubai air hit her, but even that couldn't dim the small flicker of hope blooming in her chest.
Her thoughts swirled as she stepped outside—thirty thousand. That was a start. That was a lifeline.
~·~
The glass doors swung shut behind her with a faint hiss as Vaani finally stepped outside.
The air was still heavy with the late-afternoon warmth of Dubai, though the sun had begun dipping slightly lower, softening the glare.
She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her mind still whirring with everything she'd seen—the office tour, the orientation into systems she'd soon be working with, the structure of her team, Farah's clear instructions.
She had been inside for longer than she expected. Almost an hour and a half.
And yet, as she stepped off the pavement and her eyes scanned the parking lot, her steps faltered.
Dhruv was still there.
He was leaning casually against his car, phone pressed to his ear, one hand tucked loosely into his pocket.
His shirt sleeves had been rolled up, exposing his forearms, his tie loosened just slightly after a day at work.
His voice was calm, steady, speaking in short sentences as he handled whatever call had taken his time.
Vaani blinked, almost in disbelief. He... waited?
For a second, her instinct was to walk quietly and not disturb him. But he must have sensed her presence because he looked up mid-conversation. Their eyes met, and something unreadable flickered across his face before he muttered a brief "I'll call you back" into the phone and ended the call.
"You..." her voice was softer than she intended, hesitant. "You waited?"
He straightened, slipping the phone into his pocket. His expression was calm, almost indifferent. "I had nothing going on at home."
Just like that. No drama. No questions. No irritation.
"You done?" he asked simply.
Vaani nodded quickly. "Yes."
They got into the car without much more said, the faint hum of the AC filling the silence as Dhruv started the engine.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
The city rolled past their windows—low-rise buildings, shops with bright signboards, the blur of traffic.
Vaani fiddled with the strap of her bag, replaying Farah's voice in her head, reminding herself of the number 30,000.
That relief was still fresh, but next to it sat a gnawing guilt.
Guilt that Dhruv had been outside for nearly ninety minutes because of her.
"How was your meeting?" Dhruv's voice broke through, steady but casual.
"It was nice," she answered quickly, eyes still on the road ahead.
"I see." His tone gave nothing away.
She swallowed, glancing sideways at him before blurting softly, "Did you... have lunch?"
He didn't look at her. "Well, no."
Her heart sank immediately, guilt rushing up her chest. "Oh. I'm... I'm sorry," she said, voice tight. "I don't know why I asked you to drop me. You could've eaten—"
"Relax," he cut in, his tone neither sharp nor indulgent, just matter-of-fact. "I had food at the office. It's alright. We can have an early dinner."
Vaani pressed her lips together, still feeling guilty despite his calm dismissal. She nodded, her eyes lowering to her hands clasped in her lap. "Okay," she murmured.
He glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. "It's fine, Vaani."
Another silence stretched out, this one more bearable than the earlier one. She exhaled slowly, telling herself not to overthink, but her guilt still lingered.
"So," Dhruv said after a few minutes, his voice lighter, "you want to eat somewhere out or at home?"
She shifted, caught off guard by the direct question. "Uh... up to you."
His eyes flicked toward her briefly, then back to the road. "Decide, Vaani."
Her mouth parted slightly at his insistence. "I..." She thought for a second, unsure why such a small decision suddenly felt loaded. "We... we can order in?"
He nodded, satisfied. "Alright. Italian okay?"
"Yes," she said, her tone a little relieved.
He didn't wait long before pulling out his phone at the next red light, his fingers moving swiftly as he placed an order. Two pizzas, quick and simple. By the time the light turned green, he had already locked the screen and placed the phone back on the dashboard.
"It'll reach by the time we get home," he said casually.
She gave a small nod. "Okay."
The car slipped back into motion, the soft hum of the engine filling their quiet.
Outside, the cityscape shifted from the commercial buildings near the office block to the wider roads leading back to their area.
Palm trees blurred by, the occasional honk breaking through the insulated calm of the car.
Vaani leaned back slightly in her seat, her eyes fixed on the horizon but her mind busy.
She thought about the job, about the numbers she'd just secured, about how this meant she could breathe easier when Vihaan's Columbia fees came in.
She thought about Vedant's tuition too, and the reception costs waiting just around the corner.
Relief mixed with calculation—thirty thousand is a start, but how do I balance all this without slipping?
Meanwhile, Dhruv's mind wandered somewhere else.
He had noticed how her tone had wavered when she said "nice" about the meeting, how her guilt had surfaced when she asked about his lunch.
He wasn't sure why, but he found himself observing her more closely these days—her silences, her words, the way she seemed to be carrying something heavier than she ever admitted.
He didn't push though. He never pushed.
"You're still thinking," he said suddenly, not unkindly.
Her head turned sharply toward him. "Huh?"
"You look like you're thinking about something," he clarified, eyes still on the road.
Vaani blinked, caught off guard, and then shook her head lightly. "Oh. Just... work."
He gave a small hum in response, neither pressing further nor dismissing it. That was his way, she realized—always watching, but never interrogating.
The silence after that was softer. Not empty, not heavy—just... present.
By the time they pulled into their building's parking, the sun had fully dipped, the sky shifting into dusky shades of orange and purple. The faint glow of streetlights flickered on, casting golden pools on the pavement.
Dhruv parked smoothly, switching off the engine. Vaani exhaled, almost unconsciously, as if she'd been holding her breath.
They stepped out together, their steps falling into quiet sync as they walked toward the elevator. Neither said anything, but somehow, it didn't feel suffocating.
By the time they reached their door, the faint buzz of her phone vibrated on Dhruv's phone—an alert from the food delivery app. The pizzas had arrived just as Dhruv predicted.
"Right on time," he said dryly, taking the bag from the delivery guy.
Vaani watched him for a moment, her lips parting as if to say something, but instead, she just followed him inside.
By the time the pizzas were unboxed and set out on the low table in the living room, both Dhruv and Vaani had slipped into comfortable clothes.
He had changed into a simple black t-shirt and track pants, hair slightly tousled from running his hand through it.
Vaani had worn a soft cotton kurta with pajama bottoms, her hair tied back into a loose braid, strands escaping to frame her face.
The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the AC and the clinking of plates as Vaani helped lay everything out. Dhruv sat opposite her, casually tearing open the little packets of chili flakes and oregano that came with the pizza.
For a while, the dinner went smoothly. They both ate in silence, the kind of silence that was neither heavy nor light, simply a habit between them now.
But then, Dhruv noticed it.
Her phone.
Every few seconds, it buzzed lightly, and every single time, Vaani's hand darted toward it. She would unlock it quickly, skim something, type back furiously, then lock it again—only for it to buzz again a moment later. Her fingers were restless on the screen, her eyes sharp, her shoulders tense.
She wasn't even tasting her food. Just chewing absently while her mind seemed somewhere far away.
Dhruv finally leaned back slightly, his slice of pizza still in his hand. His gaze rested on her quietly before he asked, voice calm but firm, "Isn't office over?"
Vaani froze mid-bite. Slowly, she set her slice down and blinked at him, startled. "Oh—uh—yea, it is," she stammered. Then she looked down at the phone again. "But..."
Dhruv tilted his head. "But?"
She hesitated, her thumb hovering above the screen. "No, just... some stuff becomes a longer thing, that's all."
He studied her, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. Then, with a faint exhale, he nodded once. "Yes. I get it."
There was no judgment in his tone, just a statement of recognition.
Something in Vaani's chest softened at that. Maybe guilt, maybe relief. She forced a small smile and said quietly, "Sorry."
This time, she actually slid her phone to the side of the table, deliberately out of reach. She sat straighter, exhaled, and picked up her slice again.
For a moment, Dhruv didn't respond. He was just looking at her.
Not in a way that was obvious or piercing, but steady enough that she felt it.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, seemed almost as if they were trying to read past her words.
Past her polite dismissal. Past the calm exterior she kept pulling up like armor.
Vaani felt her throat tighten under the weight of his gaze. She avoided it, lowering her eyes back to the pizza in her hand, then forced herself to take a bite. She chewed quickly, almost too quickly, wishing the silence hadn't suddenly turned into something so aware.
She didn't look at him again until she was sure he had looked away.
Dhruv did eventually lower his gaze, focusing back on his plate, but his mind was still on her.
He didn't know why her constant checking bothered him.
It wasn't irritation—he knew what work pressure was, knew how deadlines stretched into personal hours.
It wasn't judgment either—he had no right to tell her how to handle her life.
But watching her face flicker with tension, her shoulders never fully relaxing, something about it unsettled him.
He didn't press. That wasn't his way.
Instead, he took another bite, acting as though nothing had happened. But the image of her apologetic eyes, and the way she had looked away under his gaze, stayed with him.
Vaani, meanwhile, focused on her food with too much intensity.
She knew he hadn't believed her half-hearted "just work stuff" answer, but she was grateful he hadn't pushed.
The last thing she wanted was for anyone—least of all him—to know that her mind wasn't only on Abu Dhabi work.
It was on money, on responsibilities, on holding everything together before it all slipped.
She didn't want him to see her cracks.
So she smiled faintly at her plate, as though nothing had happened, and said lightly, "This is good pizza."
Dhruv glanced at her once more, expression unreadable. He didn't answer immediately. Then, with the faintest curve of his lips, he said, "It is."
And just like that, the moment folded back into quiet again.
~·~
The apartment had settled into its late-evening calm.
The air outside hummed with the faint, distant traffic of Dubai, but inside, only the steady hum of the AC and the glow of the television filled the space.
Dhruv was sprawled comfortably on the sofa, his long frame relaxed, a bowl of popcorn balanced near him.
Some action movie flickered on the screen—he wasn't watching it too intently, more letting it play while his mind wandered.
His attention drifted when a soft rustle came from the other side of the hall.
Vaani.
She had settled herself at the dining table, laptop open, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, hair still tied back from earlier but now with a few stubborn strands framing her face. Her posture was tense yet focused, her brow furrowed as her hands moved quickly across the keyboard.
But it wasn't just one laptop.
She had two.
One was hers—he recognized it, the sleek silver device she always used.
The other looked like a new company-issued machine, the logo on its back glinting faintly under the warm light.
Beside her lay two notebooks, one with scribbled sketches and another with neat, bulleted notes.
A couple of pens rolled dangerously close to the edge, and every now and then she'd catch one mid-fall, tuck it back in, and continue typing.
Dhruv watched as she switched between devices almost frantically. She'd type something on one, then immediately open a reference file on the other, then jot something down in her notebook, all while murmuring under her breath in what sounded like half-English, half-Hindi.
She looked like someone trying to race against time.
From his place on the sofa, Dhruv chewed a kernel slowly, eyes fixed not on the movie anymore but on her.
The contrast struck him. Him, sitting lazily with a movie and popcorn. Her, juggling work, deadlines, papers, and god knew what else, as though the weight of the world depended on her being ahead of it.
Her phone buzzed once, face down on the table. She didn't even look at it. Just pressed harder on the keys, muttering, "No, no... this file has to go first."
Dhruv exhaled silently, leaning back. Something about watching her like this made his chest tighten, though he wouldn't admit it even to himself.
She wasn't fragile—not at all. She was determined, stubborn even. But the way she was splitting herself between projects, responsibilities, brothers, and god knew what more... he could see the exhaustion creeping in at the edges of her eyes.
Still, she kept going.
He reached for another handful of popcorn but paused mid-air, his gaze lingering on the faint crease on her forehead as she frowned at one of the screens. She tapped a few keys, sighed, then reached for the other laptop. Her movements were sharp, efficient, but rushed.
"Multitasking?" he asked finally, his voice cutting into the quiet.
Vaani startled slightly, blinking as if she'd forgotten he was there. She looked up, her eyes a little wide, then relaxed when she saw his faintly amused expression.
"Oh," she said softly, almost embarrassed. "Um... just trying to get ahead."
Dhruv tilted his head, glancing pointedly at the two laptops and notebooks scattered like a battlefield. "Looks more like you're trying to run a small company from this table."
Her lips curved into a faint, tired smile. She looked down at her papers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just... I don't like falling behind."
He hummed, gaze still fixed on her. There was no teasing in his eyes anymore, only quiet observation. He thought about pointing out how she was clearly stretching herself too thin, how she hadn't stopped all day, but something held him back.
Instead, he turned back toward the screen, though his eyes weren't really on the movie anymore. "Don't burn yourself out," he said simply.
Vaani froze for half a second. She didn't answer right away, just stared at her screen. Then, quietly, she murmured, "I'll be fine."
He didn't press.
But he kept watching her from the corner of his eye, every flicker of the screen on her face, every time she rubbed her temples, every soft sigh that escaped her lips when a file didn't load fast enough.
And though he said nothing, the thought lingered in him the entire night—why did it bother him so much to see her carry all of this alone?
??