Narrator's POV
Navya: "So, how's the project coming along? Has Ms. Sanya finished it, Mr. Aarav?"
She sits upright in her executive chair, spine straight, shoulders squared. Her hands rest quietly on the polished mahogany table, fingers interlaced, a small ritual of crossing them that shows control and expectation. The room smells faintly of coffee and polished wood, the subtle aroma grounding her amidst the endless tasks of the day.
Mr. Aarav stands a couple of meters away, holding his usual ring file. The leather cover creases slightly under his grip. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the silence, accentuating the rhythm of the city beyond the glass walls. Light falls through the window, catching the edges of the papers on his desk, sharp and deliberate.
Aarav: "Yes, ma'am. She wrapped it up last Sunday and emailed it to both of us before leaving for her hometown. I can forward it to you right away."
Navya nods slowly, letting her gaze linger on the file. Her beige coat hangs over the chair back, the fabric catching the light and enhancing the crisp silk of her white shirt. Her black official pants crease perfectly at the knees. The ensemble is quiet but commanding. The room feels sharper and colder when she moves, the polished floor reflecting her presence in the stillness.
Navya: "Good. About the next project: we'll need a group of strong recruiters and employees. As my PA, I want the candidate list on my desk by next Monday. Today is Thursday, so you have time."
Mr. Aarav nods, adjusting his blue coat slightly. His movements are precise, careful, as if he is aware of every detail under her scrutiny. "Understood, ma'am. I'll send it as soon as it is ready."
Navya: "And I hope you are not planning any trips this June. We will need you here throughout the project."
Aarav smiles confidently, a brief flash of ease breaking through his professional mask. "No worries, Ms. Rathore. I planned the trip for October. Besides, the staff knows the importance of 'The 7H's.' We will be present until it is completed."
Navya glances at the file again, calm yet commanding. The silence stretches for a moment longer, a quiet pause that reminds him of the weight behind her words. "Very well. That will be all for now."
Mr. Aarav thanks Ms. Rathore, his footsteps soft against the carpet, and exits the CEO's office. The faint scent of his cologne lingers briefly before fading into the stillness. Navya watches the door close, then turns back to her desk, the subtle tilt of her head a signal that her mind has already moved ahead to the next task.
She leans back in her chair, fingers tracing the edge of the polished table, and lets the quiet fill the space for just a moment longer. The office feels both endless and contained, a space where decisions are made, futures are shaped, and every small gesture carries significance.
~
Navya Rathore's POV
I'm exhausted. Every bone feels hollow. I haven't eaten since morning. The project is consuming everything, time, energy, and appetite. Sleep now feels like a distant memory. The moment I lie down, my body forgets how to rest. Yet I cannot stop. Not until it is done.
I lean back in my chair, letting silence settle around me like dust. The glass wall to my right blurs the outside world. Leaves drift in the wind, dancing without pause, teasing me with their freedom.
The wind has been blowing for hours. I think about its rhythm against the city skyline, tracing it with my eyes. The beige and gray of my office reflects faintly against the pane. It is sterile, calm, and too still. A paper on the corner of my desk flutters slightly, caught in a breeze that does not exist.
Below, two teenagers chase each other down the street. Their laughter slices through the quiet, a sound so ordinary it feels almost fragile. It is strange how something so small can unravel years of carefully kept composure.
It reminded me of when it all began.
~
Six Years Ago
"So, wanna hang out after school?" Poorvi asked, her voice bright with mischief.
It was recess. The three of us, me, Poorvi, and Krisha, sat on the football ground, sharing each other's lunch as usual. The grass was soft, at least that's what everyone said. To me, it always felt like it carried the weight of a hundred tired students.
"Where are we going?" I asked, distracted by the smell of Poorvi's rice. Her mother's cooking could make a critic weep.
"Let's hit the café nearby," Krisha suggested, twirling her spoon with that smug look she always wore when she had already made up her mind. "They have added new stuff to the menu. We can work on assignments there too, a quiet place with good air."
We agreed. The bell would ring soon, and the rest of the day would drag itself through equations and diagrams before freedom came.
"Which class now?" I asked as we packed up.
"Biology," Poorvi said with a mock groan.
Poorvi is effortlessly beautiful and headstrong, never asking for permission. Krisha is soft-spoken, gentle, and her kindness radiates in every gesture.
If God had missed a few blessings in my life, He had repaid them with these two. My idiots. My constants.
~
The school day finally ended, and we rushed to the cafe. Yashna joined us midway, loud, cheerful, and always carrying a rumor like it was breaking news. She is one person that anyone would want to hire to get secret information about anyone.
We got the window seat, the only one left. A young waiter approached, all charm and easy smiles. His hair caught the light like polished wood, and his grin was dangerously confident , the kind that could sell you bad coffee and make you thank him for it.
We ordered. He promised ten minutes.
Yashna leaned forward, lowering her voice theatrically. "Guys... I have some tea."
I smirked, opening my assignment. Here she was again with had that look: the prelude to scandal.
"Vandana slept with her boyfriend," she whispered. "She's just seventeen!"
Her tone was casual, but it made my stomach twist.
Poorvi's brows furrowed. "Vandana Bhati? No way. She wouldn't."
Krisha shifted uncomfortably beside me. I caught the flicker of tension in her eyes but stayed quiet, pretending to focus on my notes.
"It's true," Yashna said, proud of her scoop. "He used to visit her place when no one was around. The neighbors found out."
"That is bad," Krisha muttered softly.
"Her mom knows?" I asked, voice low, almost drowned in the cafe's background chatter.
"She does now. Neighbor told her everything," Yashna said, sipping her drink.
Poorvi shook her head. "I don't believe it. She's not like that."
"Maybe," I said finally. "But she told me things… things that made it pretty clear."
Their eyes turned toward me. I didn't elaborate, and thankfully, no one pressed. The conversation died with the last sip of our coffee.
~
By the time I reached home, it was five. No coaching that day, a small mercy. I changed, tossed my bag aside, and dived into my assignments.
Then panic hit.
"My chemistry assignment," I whispered. "Oh no… I left it at the cafe!"
The air left my lungs. I begged my mother for permission to go back. She scolded, taunted, and sighed in surrender, probably out of pity.
The scooty was with my father, so I ran. The wind clawed at my hair. Clouds gathered, heavy with anticipation as if they knew something I did not.
I checked my watch, my sixteenth birthday gift. 8:17 p.m. Seventeen minutes too late.
I sat on the nearby bench, panting, elbows on knees, head in my hands. My thoughts were a tangle of excuses, imagined scoldings, and replayed regrets.
When someone sat beside me.
I didn't look up at first. He had a neat stack of papers in one hand and a black umbrella in the other. His coat brushed lightly against mine.
One paper caught my eye. The Witmen Scholars. My school's crest.
And then, my name: Navya Rathore.
My heart stopped. That was my assignment.
I turned sharply. His face was partly hidden, a scarf, a shadow, and his eyes, were sharp, steady, unreadable. But... had I seen them before?
Before I could speak, he held the paper out to me. Then stood up, silent, and walked away into the wind.
I sat there, clutching my assignment, pulse echoing in my ears.
I could not even thank him.