"Yrra, thank you so much for all the love.
If you enjoy today's chapter, do let me know.
It's from the author's point of view; next will be from theirs.Please comment on what you like.
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One month later, on that fateful day, Avantika left the office without a word to anyone. Aadish, felt a knot of tension twist in his stomach as he worried for her safety. Hours dragged by in anxious anticipation until finally, news reached him that she was safe and sound in her room. Relief flooded through him, dispelling the earlier anxiety that had gripped his thoughts.
In the quiet corridors of the office, a subtle tension hung in the air, almost palpable. Avantika, punctual as always, arrived at Aadish's cabin precisely on time, a routine she had maintained diligently for the past month. It was a choreographed dance of professionalism: she would perform her tasks, seek Armaan's guidance when needed, and then depart for her flat without a word.Meanwhile, Aadish observed her every move from his vantage point within the cabin. Despite his keen interest, he maintained a stoic silence, never uttering a single word to her nor receiving any in return. The absence of even a simple exchange weighed heavily on Aadish's mind, stirring restlessness and a growing sense of unease. His thoughts wandered into darker territories, fearing the possibility of losing her someday if their dynamic remained unchanged.Today, however, something shifted imperceptibly. Anticipating Avantika's arrival, Aadish found himself at his desk earlier than usual, a rarity in his meticulously controlled domain. To his surprise, he discovered his cabin already in impeccable order, a reflection of Avantika's conscientiousness. This small act spoke volumes, subtly intertwining their routines in a way that stirred emotions Aadish had long suppressed.
As today dawned, Avantika found herself already in the presence of Aadish. She greeted him with a morning wish before immersing herself in her tasks.Gone were the familiar sofa and table; instead, there stood a modest desk and chair. The desk appeared diminutive beside Aadish, whose stature seemed to dwarf it. Yet, only Aadish understood the lavish cost he had incurred to ensure Avantika's comfort surpassed even that of his own workplace.
At lunchtime, Avantika went to the cafeteria because she lived alone and hadn't had time to make her own food.
When she returned to her cabin after lunch, nobody else was there. She sat down, opened her laptop, and started working.
Aadish, who was very protective of Avantika, hadn't let anyone into his cabin for a whole month except Om, Rudra, and Armaan. But today, he came in and asked politely, "Miss Avantika, please come here," while rolling up his sleeves.
Avantika looked at him and felt a bit annoyed. He usually spoke in a commanding tone without using words like "please" or "sorry," especially when talking to her. His sudden change in attitude made her nervous. She had been hiding her feelings for the past month, remembering a difficult incident from two years ago.
In the depths of her turmoil, Avantika found herself grappling with emotions she had long kept concealed. Each passing moment seemed to weigh heavier on her heart, a heart that had unwittingly made space for someone she dared not acknowledge. The pain she endured was silent yet profound, echoing through the solitude she sought to preserve.Her conflicted desires mirrored a turbulent sea, where the waves of longing and fear crashed relentlessly against her resolve. To lose either Aadish or the security of her job felt like risking a precarious balance she had fought hard to maintain. In her turmoil, she craved both distance from Aadish and the impossible closeness she yearned to deny.
"Aankho meh pyaar liye dikhawa nafrat ka kar rahe ho, jaana ab bta bhi do kis baat se dar rahe ho."
(You're pretending with love in your eyes but showing hatred. Come on, tell me now, what are you afraid of?)
He finally gathered the courage to voice what had been troubling him. "Aapki rush vayi ki vajh puchh sakta hu?" [Can I ask the reason for your indifference?] he asked, his voice tinged with concern. She stood near his desk, calm and composed, while the tension between them grew.
"**Aap yaha sabse baat karti hai sivaye humare, kya Karan hai is berukhi ka**?" [You talk to everyone here except me, what is the reason for this coldness?] he continued, rising from his seat. His impatience was clear, his eyes revealing his growing feelings for her and the insecurity that was slowly taking hold.
Every day, he watched her interact easily with others, while he was left feeling ignored. His heart ached for her attention, and he couldn't understand why she kept her distance. As they locked eyes, the room seemed to shrink, leaving only their emotions.
Her response, or the lack of one, would either break his heart or give him hope. The silence between them was heavy with possibilities as he waited, his feelings laid bare.
"Aap bhi to yaha sabse baat nhi karte," [You also don't talk to everyone here,] she replied, her words striking a chord in him. He stood there, a sharp pain piercing his heart at her words. She remained bowed, unaware of the effect her comparison had on him. How could she see herself as just another person in his life?
"Ha, kiu ki mujhe sab pasand bhi nahi hai," [Yes, because I don't like everyone,] he said, his voice a mixture of love and hurt as he moved towards her. Every word he spoke, every step he took, was an attempt to convey the depth of his feelings. She was not like the others; she was unique, special. His heart ached at the thought that she couldn't see the distinction he held for her in his heart.
Aadhish's voice was a mix of urgency and desperation, echoing in the dimly lit room. "Ab kaho... kya yaad nahi tumhe 2 saal pehle ka vo incident...kho na," [Now tell me... don't you remember that incident from 2 years ago?] he demanded, his words hanging heavily in the air as he stepped closer. The tension between them was palpable, an electric current that seemed to draw them together even as she turned away, only to find herself face to face with him, their bodies nearly touching.
"Yaad nahi tumhe meri aankhe? Kya tum mujhe pehchaan nahi gayi thi mujhe pehli nazar mein? Kaho," [Don't you remember my eyes? Didn't you recognize me at first sight? Tell me,] he implored, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. With each step he took towards her, her breathing became more erratic, the rapid rise and fall of her chest betraying her inner turmoil.
Aadhish moved with a deliberate slowness, closing the distance between them until he was mere inches away. His hands came up to rest on either side of her, gripping the table behind her, effectively trapping her in place. The warmth of his proximity was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cool wood of the table pressing against her back.
Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none to be found. She was acutely aware of every detail: the way his eyes bore into hers, the subtle scent of his cologne, the slight tremor in his voice that hinted at the depth of his feelings. Time seemed to stand still in that moment, the world outside fading into irrelevance as they stood at the precipice of something undeniable, something that had been left unsaid for far too long.
In the dimly lit room, Vani squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "Nhi," [No,] she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Sensing her hesitation, he stepped closer, his presence an overwhelming mix of comfort and challenge. "Ab yaad aaya?" [Do you remember now?] he whispered, his breath a soft caress against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
Vani's eyes fluttered open, the urgency of her tasks surfacing in her mind. "Mr. R, hume jana hai, kaam hai," [Mr. R, I need to go, there's work to do,] she said, her tone a blend of determination and distraction.
But he was not to be deterred. "Ab to aap jawab deke hi jayengi, Miss Vani," [Now you won't leave without giving me an answer, Miss Vani,] he insisted, his stubborn resolve evident in his voice.
The tension between them crackled, a silent battle of wills unfolding in the charged air.
"Miss Avantika," [Miss Avantika,] she corrected firmly, the repetition of the same exchange wearing thin on her patience after countless occurrences in the past month.
"Meri marzi," [My wish,] he retorted defensively, his offense palpable. "Tumne... bhi to kaha na, Mr. R? Maine kuchh bola kya?" [You... also called me Mr. R, didn't I say anything?]
She persisted, trying to maintain her composure as she attempted to free herself from his grasp. "Chale chhode, jaane dijiye hame," [Please let me go,] she insisted, her voice carrying a note of urgency.
"Karib mere vo khada tha,
Jaise rooh meri vo pad raha tha.
Jism mera usse mujhse dur kar raha tha,
Magar Dil Mera uske utne hi Karib ja Raha tha.
Tuti hu mai mujhse judke vo bhi na Tut Jaye,
Ye dar mujhe uske karib Jane se rok Raha tha."
[Translation:
He was standing close to me,
As if he was reading my soul.
My body was keeping him away from me,
But my heart was pulling towards him equally.
I am broken, afraid that even by connecting with me, he might not break.
This fear was stopping me from getting closer to him.]
"Maine abhi kaha tumse achhi lagti ho mujhe, tum," [I just told you that I like you,] he declared again, his tone revealing a mix of frustration and a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface.
Their exchange hung in the air, the tension thick with unspoken emotions and unresolved conflicts.
"Haa to main kya karu?" [So what should I do?] she asked him, her gaze unwavering as tears shimmered in her eyes.
"Kya main pasand nahi tumhe?" [Don't you like me?] he questioned, disappointment evident in his voice as insecurity crept in.
"Boss... thik hai, maan leti hu yaad hai mujhe sab. Mil gaya chain aapko, khushi huyi hogi na mujhe embarrass feel karva ke," [Boss... alright, I admit I remember everything. You must feel relieved, you must be happy making me feel embarrassed,] she said, her voice wavering with the weight of suppressed emotions, almost on the verge of tears.
The atmosphere between them grew heavier, emotions tangled in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.
He stared at her, puzzled, trying to decipher the confusion evident on her face. "Ye kya kahe rahi hai aap?" [What are you saying?] he asked, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and concern. Her silence only fueled his anxiety, and he could feel the shadows of doubt creeping into his mind. "Kya humari mulakat se aapko embarrassment huyi thi?" [Were you embarrassed by our meeting?] His voice wavered slightly as he pressed on, each word reflecting the growing tension within him. He needed to understand, to dispel the negative thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.
She turned away, her gaze fixed on a distant point as if seeking an escape from the present moment. "Aapki koi galti nyi hai," [It's not your fault,] she finally replied, her voice soft and filled with regret. "Maine hi usdin kuchh galti se pi Li thi." [I accidentally drank something that day.] Her words hung in the air, a quiet confession tinged with self-reproach.
His brow furrowed, confusion giving way to a gentle concern. "To isme embarrassment ki baat kaise aayi?" [Then how is it an embarrassment?] he asked, his tone softer now, hoping to bridge the gap that had sprung up between them. He took a step closer, his eyes searching for hers, seeking a connection that might dissolve the misunderstandings between them.
"To bhagde daalu mai, aisi baate aapko janne vina aapke samne karne ke liye," [So should I run away, to say such things in front of you without knowing you,] she said while looking at him with an air of indifference. Her words hung in the air, seemingly directed at no one in particular, yet he knew they were meant for him. She had a way of making her displeasure without ever raising her voice or pointing a finger.
"Lekin ab to janti ho," [But now you know,] he said, his tone is neutral, almost resigned. It was a statement more than a question, a mere acknowledgment of the truth they both understood.
"Yahi to dukh hai," [That's the sadness,] she muttered to herself, the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing down on her.
"Kya kaha?" [What did you say?] he asked, his curiosity piqued by her whisper.
"Kuchh nahi," [Nothing,] she quickly replied, shaking off her moment of vulnerability. "Aap samjhayiye, aise hi office mein sabko pata nahi kyun lagta hai kuchh hai hamare beech," [You explain why everyone in the office thinks there's something between us,] she continued, the confusion in her voice masking a deeper concern.
"To isse humein kya," [So what to us,] he responded, still unphased, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. His words, though simple, carried a complex mix of detachment and inevitability.
Certainly! Here's the English translation with the Hindi dialogues included in brackets:
"Aap samjhate kiu nhi ye... Mr. R, aap boss hai mere," (Why don't you understand this... Mr. R, you are my boss,) she said, her voice tense and strained, as if trying to impose a barrier between them with her words.
"To aap pati bana lijiye," (Then you should marry me,) he replied, his tone teasing, a playful glint in his eyes that seemed to dance with mischief.
"Kya kaha?" (What did you say?) she asked, her voice rising in pitch as she fixed him with a glare, her eyes flashing with anger and surprise.
Aadhish responded with a childlike innocence, his tone softening as he tilted his head slightly and pouted. "Ab jawab to dijiye, kya hum achhe nahi lagte aapko?" (Now please answer, don't we look good to you?) he asked, his voice adopting a baby-like quality, as if he were the most innocent man on earth who had never even harmed an ant.
She could scarcely believe his audacity. Here he was, her boss, standing so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, and yet he was speaking to her as if this were all some kind of game. Her heart pounded in her chest, the conflicting emotions of anger, confusion, and something she dared not name swirling within her. His playful demeanor clashed sharply with the gravity of the situation, leaving her at a loss for words.
"Humne ye kaha?" (Did we say this?) she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of challenge.
"To fir matlab kya hai... kiu baat nahi karti aap humse?" (Then what does it mean... why don't you talk to me?) he pressed, his tone softening slightly as if seeking a genuine answer.
"Ha, taki log ye news newspaper meh chhapvate fire," (Yes, so that people can publish this news in the newspaper,) she retorted, her tone dripping with indifference as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Ye kabhi nahi hoga jab tak aap nahi chahti," (This will never happen until you don't want it,) he assured her, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, as if he could protect her from the prying eyes of the world.
"Rahene dijiye. Roj 1000 news hoti hai aapke baare meh, kuchh to aapko bhi nahi pata hogi," (Let it be. There are 1000 news every day about you, some of which you may not even know,) she replied, her tone dismissive, as if she had resigned herself to the inevitability of rumors and gossip.
"Aap jo chahe gi bas vo hi hoga," (Whatever you want, that will happen,) he said, his voice firm and resolute, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
For a moment, the room was silent, their unspoken words filling the space between them. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the unwavering determination that seemed to promise he would move mountains for her. But she also knew the world they lived in, a world where every move was scrutinized, every gesture analyzed. It was a dangerous game, and she wasn't sure she wanted to play.
"Hum kuchh nahi chahte," (We don't want anything,) she instantly replied, her words sharp and final.
"Magr kyu?" (But why?) he asked, his tone laced with worry as he searched her face for answers.
"Aap hamara past nahi jante," (You don't know our past,) she finally admitted, her voice softening as she revealed a part of herself she had kept hidden.
"Mai sab janta hu," (I know everything,) he said with a slight smile, trying to reassure her.
"Aap bohot kuchh nahi jante," (You don't know much,) she countered, mirroring his smile but with a hint of sadness.
"Mujhe nahi jaana agar aap nahi chahti," (I don't need to know if you don't want,) he replied, his voice gentle and understanding. "Mai bas aap ko chahta hu, hamara future chahta hu aur kuchh nahi." (I just want you, our future, and nothing else.)
"Aap samjhaiye na," (Please understand,) she continued, her voice carrying a plea for him to understand the complexities of her emotions and the walls she had built around herself.
The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against her arm, a silent promise that he was willing to wait, to understand, to be there for her no matter what. She looked into his eyes and saw a future she had never dared to dream of, a future where her past no longer held her captive.
"Agar aapko mere boss hone se dikkat hai to mai is post se resign kar dunga," (If you have a problem with me being your boss, then I'll resign from this position,) he said, his voice filled with a resolve he never knew he possessed. It was a declaration he had never thought he could make for anyone in this world.
"Mr. R, mujhe vakt chahiye," (Mr. R, I need time,) she said, fully aware of how stubborn he could be, trying to buy herself some time to process everything.
"Kitna? 1 hour theek rahega?" (How much? Will one hour be enough?) he quipped, his attempt at humor falling flat in the tension of the moment.
"Mr. Rajawat!" (Mr. Rajawat!) she snapped angrily, her patience wearing thin. Her eyes blazed with frustration, and she took a step back, needing the physical distance to maintain her composure.
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions. He looked at her, the seriousness of his earlier statement hanging between them. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the lengths he was willing to go for her. It was both overwhelming and disarming. She needed time, space to breathe, to think, and to decide what she truly wanted.
"Thik, 1 din lelo," (Okay, take one day,) he offered, trying to compromise.
"Kya matlab lelo?" (What do you mean, take?) she retorted, her frustration evident. "Mai mang nahi rahi hu, mai bata rahi hu mujhe kuchh vakt lagega." (I'm not demanding, I'm telling you I need some time.)
"Ji," (Yes,) he replied, understanding her need for time and space.
"Hayee, abhi se rani sa wali feel de rahi ho ji," (Oh dear, you're already giving me a queen-like feeling,) he thought to himself, a small, wistful smile playing on his lips.
"Chaliye, kaam hai hume," (Let's go, we have work,) she said, signaling the end of their intense conversation. He finally stepped back, freeing her from the metaphorical cage he had inadvertently created. As she walked away, he watched her go, determined to respect her wishes and give her the time she needed.
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