CHAPTER 9
ARYAN
My phone rings while I’m replying to an email, and when I see Jayesh’s name flash on the screen, I lean back in my chair. It’s been a week since he left and Ishika walked in and somehow it feels like months. I pick up with a small smile because I already know what he’s going to ask.
“Aryan,” he greets.
“How’s your wife?” I ask before he can begin.
“Better,” he says, relief clear in his voice. “Still on bed rest, but stable. Thank God.”
“That’s good,” I reply, genuinely glad. He deserves good news. There’s a short pause, then he clears his throat lightly.
“So…how’s Ishika?”
I almost laugh because yes—there it is.
“You were right,” I say, letting my head fall back against the chair.
“She’s talented.” I roll my chair around, facing the window now, I can see Ishika on her desk, her red hair look like fire as sunlight grazes them.
“And extremely work-oriented. Honestly, I get FOMO watching her. And I’m supposed to be the CEO.
I’m the one who should be buried under work, not her. ” I add, chuckling.
Jayesh laughs loudly, that familiar sound. “She’s always been like that. Very passionate. She keeps her head down and works. She worked for me for a year and there was no drama, no fuss, ever.” I hum.
“She’s picked everything up so fast,” I tell him. “It’s been a week and it’s like you never left. The transition was smoother than I expected.”
“Yeah, she tends to bury herself in work,” Jayesh says, his tone softening. “Sometimes too much. I worry about her a bit.” A soft smile makes a way to my lips knowing someone cares about her.
“She’s also very straightforward. But she’s excellent at what she does, so…don’t mind it.” he adds carefully.
I laugh because that’s the least concerning part. “I actually like that,” I say. “I hardly meet people who speak their mind with me. Most sugarcoat things or get nervous. She…doesn’t.”
He chuckles. “That’s her charm.”
Charm is…not the word I would have used. But it fits in a strange way. Her blunt honesty, her tiny glares, her no-nonsense tone—it’s refreshing to get that, especially in an office where most people act like they swallowed a manual on how to impress the boss.
“How’s everything else?” I ask again, shifting a bit.
“We’re managing,” Jayesh answers. “And thanks again for being so understanding.”
“Of course,” I say, and after a few more seconds, “Okay, all the best for everything.”
We say bye, and I hang up the call. A slow breath escapes as I place my phone on the table. It’s been a week.
One week since she entered this company like a storm that doesn’t make noise but shakes everything silently. At least for me.
Somehow I haven’t even managed to talk to her properly after that first day.
Not because I don’t want to, not because she makes it hard, but because work has swallowed me whole.
Meetings, strategy calls, board updates, investor reviews…
sometimes I forget I run more than one thing at a time.
Still…even if I haven’t gone downstairs for site updates, I know exactly how things are going.
Because I’ve been watching her. More than I should. More than I want to admit.
It’s strange how easy it is for my eyes to find her whenever I look out my office window.
I see her bent over the large tables, measuring something, sketching something, rearranging samples, or arguing with contractors.
I catch her pacing with her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, scribbling on her notepad without looking down.
I see her tie her hair, untie it, push it behind her ear, get annoyed when it falls forward again.
It’s ridiculous how much I notice. And concerning.
Because the longer I watch her, the more it starts looking like an obsession. Not a scary one. Not a dramatic, over-the-top one. More like a…constant curiosity. Like my brain has a tab open with her name on it and refuses to close it.
I’m aware of how it sounds. I’m not stupid. I know if someone described this to me, I’d tell them to go touch grass. But it’s not like I’m stalking her. She’s literally working in plain sight. Anyone can look. I just… look more.
And the truth is—she’s interesting. The kind of interesting that doesn’t show itself instantly. The kind that pulls you in slowly. The more I banter with her, the more I see her reactions, the more I feel this urge to figure her out piece by piece.
She’s guarded, but her eyes are expressive.
She’s polite with everyone else, but her irritation with me is adorable.
It makes me feel special. Most of the time she’s quiet, but when she speaks, it’s always direct.
She doesn’t try to impress. She doesn’t try to charm.
She doesn’t soften her words to suit my position. She simply exists as herself.
And that—God—stands out. A soft knock hits my door. “Come in,” I say without looking up.
Ajay steps inside, tablet in hand. “Sir, the conference room is ready for the meeting.” He scrolls once and adds, “Ms. Vyas said she’ll be five minutes late. She’s wrapping up something with the contractors.”
Five minutes late. That doesn’t bother me. Not even a little. In fact, a small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. Of course she’s still at the site. She forgets everything once she gets into work. Food, time, people…herself. “Sir?” Ajay says, noticing the smile.
“Let’s do this,” I reply, pushing back my chair and grabbing my laptop.
As I walk past the glass wall, I allow myself one glance. Her figure is small compared to the open room, but she stands like someone who belongs exactly where she is. Focused. Determined. Lost in her world.
A tiny part of me warms in a way I don’t question too closely. Five minutes late or five minutes early—doesn’t matter. She’ll walk into that room, probably with a pen between her fingers and a smudge of graphite on her hand, and I will have to pretend I’m not more interested than I should be.
Fun. This is going to be…interesting. I straighten my shoulders, fix my expression, and head toward the conference room. Time to act like a CEO again.
Even though a part of me is already waiting to see what expression she’ll walk in with.