CHAPTER 13
ARYAN
I know this because I’ve checked the time at least five times in the last ten minutes, each glance followed by the same tightening in my chest that I’ve been ignoring for an hour now.
The building is quiet in that unsettling way—no keyboards clicking, no footsteps, no conversations leaking from cabins.
Just the dull whirr of the AC and the occasional distant sound of traffic that reminds me the world outside is still moving.
She’s still here.
And I don’t like it.
I lean back in my chair, eyes drifting to the glass window again, even though I already know what I’ll see. Her office light is still on. Has been for far too long. One solitary square of brightness in an otherwise dark building.
I was supposed to leave an hour ago. Siddhant had called earlier, something about coming over at Rudra’s, about Rudrani probably letting us watch half the match before kicking us out, and I’d said yeah, sure, fifteen minutes. That was…an hour ago.
I could have left. Nothing was stopping me.
Except the fact that there is not a single other soul in that building right now.
Security is downstairs. Cleaning staff left ages ago. Everyone else went home like normal, sensible human beings. Everyone except her.
And me.
And somehow, that doesn’t sit right with me.
I shut my laptop with a quiet click and stand, grabbing my phone and keys.
I tell myself I’m not hovering. I’m not being overbearing.
I’m being responsible. She’s new. She doesn’t know the building rhythms yet, even though I know she literally has the building plans and might know it better than me.
But she probably lost track of time—which, knowing her, is very likely.
When she works, she disappears into it completely.
I’ve seen that enough times in the last week to recognize the pattern.
Still.
Who the hell wants to work overtime when the boss isn’t even asking for it?
I step out of my office and walk down the corridor, my footsteps echoing softly against the floor.
I take the elevator and exit the building going to the building next door, where she is, all alone.
The closer I get to her space, the more the quiet presses in on me.
There’s something intimate about empty offices at night—too much space, too little noise. Everything feels amplified.
I stop at her door and lean against the frame without announcing myself.
And for a second, I just…watch.
She’s barefoot.
Shoes discarded near the desk like they offended her personally.
Her red hair is pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands escaping around her face, a pencil stuck haphazardly through it like she shoved it there without thinking.
Her sleeves are rolled up, ink smudged faintly on one wrist. Papers are spread across the desk and floor, sketches layered over each other like she kept changing her mind and refusing to throw anything away.
She rolls her head slowly, stretching her neck, wincing slightly like it aches—which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise me. She’s been hunched over drawings all day. Probably hasn’t moved properly in hours.
The sight does something to me. Something quiet and unsettling.
“Do you want me to get arrested?” I ask, my voice breaking the silence.
She jumps. Actually jumps. A sharp gasp leaves her mouth, her hand flying straight to her chest as she spins around to face me.
“What the fuck?” she blurts out off guard.
I straighten from the doorframe, shaking my head as I step inside. “Language, my lady,” I say lightly, even though my heart stutters for half a second at how genuinely startled she looks. “You didn’t even realize I was standing there, did you?”
She exhales sharply, still clutching her chest. “Are you insane?” she snaps. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Exactly my point,” I reply, walking closer. I stop a step away from her desk, then lean down just enough so we’re at eye level. Her gaze flicks to mine and stays there, a little too still. “It’s almost midnight. Way past office timings. Do you plan to pull an overnight?”
She gulps.
I see it. The small movement of her throat. The way her shoulders tense.
“Um…I’m just leaving,” she stutters, already reaching for her things.
I can’t help the chuckle that slips out. “You’re a dream employee, you know that?” I say, straightening up again. “Working so hard without any sense of time. You must really love doing this.”
She pauses, fingers closing around a notebook. “I do,” she admits quietly.
There’s no hesitation in her voice. No sarcasm. Just the truth.
And something about that hits me harder than expected.
I step back, giving her space as she gathers her things—laptop, phone, papers shoved into a folder with practiced efficiency. She moves quickly now, like she’s suddenly aware of how late it is and doesn’t want to acknowledge it out loud.
“I’ll drop you,” I say casually.
She freezes.
“No need,” she replies without turning around, her tone clipped. “I can manage.”
“It’s beyond eleven,” I counter, keeping my voice calm. “And not that I’m traditional or anything, but men can’t be trusted. Since you’re still here, I’d like to know you reach home safely.”
She turns around, eyes sharp and narrow. “You are a man, too.” she argues instantly. “How about you guys put a 7 PM curfew on yourselves so we can roam around freely?”
I blink.
“Valid point,” I hum, genuinely impressed. “I have a politician friend. I like this idea. I’ll pass it along. Maybe he can do something about it.”
Her mouth falls open slightly like she thinks I am joking but I am really not.
“I’ll ask Aditya if something like this can be implemented,” I continue seriously, nodding, considering the logistics. “Because clearly, whenever we have a problem, we eradicate the problem. Which in this case is men. Makes sense.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“They will laugh at you,” she exclaims.
I shrug. “People laughed at Einstein. Now he’s the most known scientist. Besides, they won’t dare laugh at me unless they want a significant part of the donations to disappear.” I add darkly.
She blinks rapidly. Once. Twice.
Then exhales sharply. “Fine,” she mutters. “You can drop me.”
She rolls her eyes, grabs her phone and heels, and walks past me without waiting, footsteps quick and irritated.
I watch her go, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
She’s cute. Dangerously so.
I close the door behind us, turning off lights as we move through the empty building, the quiet stretching between us comfortably now. She walks a little ahead, arms crossed, still clearly annoyed, but there’s something softer in her posture. Less defensive.
As we step into the elevator, I glance at her reflection in the mirrored wall—now heels on, hair messy, exhaustion evident, and yet somehow still standing tall.
She works like she has something to prove. Like stopping would mean losing momentum. Like rest is optional and time is an inconvenience.
And standing there beside her, I realize something else too.
I didn’t wait back just because the building was empty.
I waited because the thought of her being alone this late didn’t sit right with me.
And that…that’s new.
The elevator doors slide shut, and for the first time tonight, I let myself stop pretending that this is just concern. Because it isn’t. Not entirely.
And as we descend into the quiet city below, one thought settles firmly in my mind—She may not realize it yet, but I’m not letting her do this alone.
Not tonight at least.