7. Soft Changes
The office was bustling as usual, phones ringing, keyboards clattering, and murmurs filling the air.
But inside Rakshit's cabin, there was a calm contrast. Rahul stood there, lost in thought, struggling to find the right words.
Rakshit wasn't cruel or ruthless, but the way he spoke, short, precise, and often in just a word or two could cut deeper than silence.
He wasn't some heartless devil, yet his stern aura and preference for quiet over any display of emotion made everyone conscious of themselves in his presence.
Noticing Rahul still standing even after handing him the files, Rakshit finally looked up.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice steady but firm.
Rahul opened his mouth but no words came out.
He cleared his throat nervously before stuttering, "A-actually, you…I mean…I you.."
Rakshit raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his fumbling.
Rahul took a quick breath and blurted out in one go, "Actually, I wanted to ask you never take half days unless you're unwell, going home early isn't something you usually do, and I don't think you've taken a holiday in years. I've been noticing since last week, you seem a bit… changed.
Is everything okay?"
Rakshit sighed softly.
"Everything is fine," he said -short, direct, and final.
Rahul knew that was the end of the conversation. If Rakshit said it was fine, then it had to be.
"Okay," he murmured and quietly left the cabin.
As the door clicked shut, Rakshit leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering to the ceiling.
"What should I even say?" he muttered under his breath.
Lately, something inside him had begun to change.
The man who once felt nothing was now feeling everything. And every passing day, he found himself counting the hours just to get home, just to see her face.
At home, Shivika was finally allowing herself to breathe. She had made a promise — no more tears.
From now on, she would only think about her future… their future.
She didn't understand why, but she felt a strange connection with Rakshit something deep, something unspoken.
Today, when she had handed him that note, she had seen a spark in his eyes. And that single moment had made her heart whisper with certainty she would do anything for this man… her man.
Lying comfortably on the sofa, a book resting in her hands, she was lost in her thoughts when her phone buzzed.
She picked it up and smiled seeing his name flash on the screen.
"Sorry, couldn't tell you before — there's a man standing outside our home. He's a guard. He won't disturb you, but if you need anything, just tell me. And if you're not comfortable, I'll replace him with a female bodyguard. Take your medicine and rest. I'll be back soon."
Then came another line —
"Call me anytime, I am free for you."
Her heart stilled at those words.
Her eyes lingered on the last line — reading it again and again.
She wouldn't disturb him, she knew how busy he was… but just knowing that she could call him anytime was enough to fill her chest with warmth.
Meanwhile, at the office, Rakshit was still in the middle of a meeting. But for the first time, he had asked everyone to wait for five minutes.
No one dared to question him — they simply exchanged nervous glances and waited in silence, while he sat tapping lightly on his phone, eyes fixed on the screen, watching Shivika's typing dots appear and disappear.
"Sir, can we—" one of the clients began cautiously.
Rakshit didn't even look up. He simply raised his palm and the man immediately went quiet.
A moment later, his phone buzzed.
"It's fine, Rakshit. I understand and I have no problem with a male bodyguard. Don't worry, I'll call if something happens. Take care and come back soon. I am waiting."
Rakshit's heart fluttered — a rare feeling for him.
There was someone waiting for him at home now… and nothing, absolutely nothing, felt more important than that.
His lips curved slightly, pressed the like on her message, and slipped his phone aside. When he finally looked up, he found everyone pretending to be busy — eyes anywhere but on him.
Clearing his throat, he straightened up.
"Let's start," he said simply.
While at home, Shivika stood up and walked toward the main door. She opened it slowly, and the man standing outside straightened immediately.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," he greeted, bowing his head politely.
"Good afternoon, Bhaiya," Shivika replied with a soft smile.
"You can call me Shivika, no need to call me ma'am."
"But ma'am—" the guard began, looking hesitant.
"First rule," Shivika interrupted playfully, "no ma'am."
The guard blinked for a moment, then smiled lightly. "Okay… Shivika."
"That's better," she said with a grin.
"Did you have lunch?"
"Yes, ma— I mean, yes, Shivika," he corrected himself quickly, smiling shyly.
"I did. Thank you for asking."
Shivika's heart softened at his genuine tone.
"Good," she said, nodding.
"Wait a second."
She went inside and returned with a glass of water.
"Here, have some."
"Thank you," the guard said respectfully, accepting the glass with both hands. After drinking, he handed it back carefully.
"My name is Satyam Mahajan."
Shivika's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Oh! Mahajan? Same surname!"
Satyam smiled faintly.
"Yes… and I'm an orphan too."
Shivika's expression softened instantly.
"Oh… I'm so sorry," she said, guilt flashing in her eyes.
He shook his head gently. "It's okay."
But curiosity got the better of her.
"Wait—what does being an orphan have to do with the surname Mahajan?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
Satyam looked slightly surprised. "You don't know?"
Shivika shook her head, confusion clear in her eyes.
He gave a small, polite smile.
"Then… you should ask sir about it. It'll be better if he's the one to tell you."
Shivika nodded slowly, her curiosity deepening as Satyam turned to answer a call dismissing her giving a small nod.
Something about his words left her thinking — what could possibly be the connection between Mahajan and being an orphan?
After closing the door, Shivika returned to the sofa with her book in her lap.
The house was peaceful, filled only with the soft hum of the TV and the turning of pages.
Hours passed like that, reading, watching, thinking.
It was almost time for Rakshit to come home.
She found herself standing on the balcony, eyes fixed on the entrance of the society. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly until the sight of a familiar car snapped her back, his car.
Her lips curved into a smile before she even realized it.
Without waiting, she walked to the door and opened it.
Satyam, standing nearby, frowned slightly in confusion.
"What happened, Shivika? Everything fine?"
Shivika blinked, suddenly realizing how eager she must have looked. She cleared her throat quickly.
"Y-yes, actually… Rakshit is here, so I just opened the door early," she said, smiling sheepishly.
Satyam nodded, a soft warmth filling his chest.
For years, he had seen Rakshit do everything for others — always giving, never expecting.
But today, someone was waiting for him, and that simple act touched something deep inside Satyam.
Just then, the elevator door slid open. Rakshit stepped out, still looking at his phone, until his eyes lifted and froze.
There she was.
Standing at the door, waiting for him with a gentle smile that somehow eased the tiredness from his day.
He gave a small nod in acknowledgment, though his heart felt heavier and lighter all at once.
Turning to Satyam, he said, "You can go now. Come tomorrow morning. And get those parcels placed in the car for the orphanage children."
"Yes, sir," Satyam said and left quietly.
Shivika moved inside, and Rakshit followed her. She poured him a glass of water and handed it to him as he loosened his tie and sank into the sofa.
"How was your day?" she asked softly.
"Hectic," he replied, leaning his head back, eyes closing as he exhaled slowly.
That's when she noticed, a file in his hand. He was holding it too tightly, as if it carried something more than paper. Her brows furrowed.
"Rakshit… what's this file about?" she asked carefully.
His eyes snapped open, startled. He looked at her, then down at the file. A long pause stretched between them before he finally spoke.
"Sit first," he said quietly.
Turning fully toward her, he placed the file gently in her lap.
"Read it," he said, his voice low, calm, but carrying a weight she couldn’t ignore.
Shivika's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the file.
Shivika opened the file, her hands trembling slightly. The moment her eyes caught the bold heading.
Her breath faltered.
"This…" she whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes filled with unshed tears.
Rakshit reached out and gently took her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow, reassuring, grounding.
He said softly, "People usually go to court for this… but in our case, we don't need to. I've spoken to my lawyer, these are the papers. We'll sign them whenever you want."
Shivika lifted her gaze, her heart thudding wildly.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling like her heart.
Rakshit didn't look away. His eyes, steady and certain, met hers as he said,
For a moment, neither spoke — their silence said more than any word could. Then Rakshit’s tone turned gentle.
"But are you sure, Shivika?"
Her lips curved into a faint smile, soft but filled with emotion.
Something flickered in his eyes, something raw, something real. He tightened his hold on her hand, almost as if he wanted to seal the moment in his heart.
"But there's one thing," Shivika murmured after a pause.
He looked at her instantly.
"What is it?"
Her eyes glistened, but her voice held a quiet strength.
For a second, Rakshit forgot how to breathe. The idea of her wanting to marry him properly — it was something he hadn't dared to imagine.
His heart skipped a beat, his grip on her hand tightening almost unconsciously.
Then he spoke, his voice deep, steady, yet gentler than ever.