Mumbai's monsoon had finally arrived.
Raindrops drummed against glass windows, lightning flashed over the skyline, and inside SkyLine Advertising, the air buzzed with both creativity and chaos.
For **Aanya Mehta**, it was a magical day. She'd always loved rain — it felt like poetry falling from the sky. But today, the storm outside wasn't half as strong as the one quietly building inside her.
Her thoughts kept returning to **Arjun Raichand** — her boss, her mentor, and now… something more.
She'd begun to notice how her heart reacted around him — the way her words stumbled when he looked at her too long, or how one smile from him could turn her entire day brighter.
But she also knew — it was dangerous.
He was her superior. Reserved. Focused. The kind of man who didn't let emotions cross professional lines.
And yet…
---
That afternoon, the office gathered for a quick campaign review. Arjun stood near the screen, discussing new visuals. Across the room, **Rohan**, a senior writer known for his easy charm, leaned toward Aanya's desk.
"So, Miss Daydreamer," he said with a grin, "I hear your tagline is now SkyLine's pride. Not bad for the new girl."
Aanya laughed softly. "Thanks, Rohan. Just trying to survive here."
"You're doing more than that," he said, lowering his voice. "Arjun seems pretty impressed. You've become his favorite already."
His tone was teasing, but it carried an edge — one Arjun didn't miss. From across the room, his gaze flicked toward them. Aanya felt it — that sudden tension that made her heart race.
"Focus, everyone," Arjun said sharply. "Let's keep this professional."
The meeting continued, but the atmosphere had shifted.
Later, as everyone left, Rohan chuckled. "Relax, Aanya. I was just joking. Didn't know your boss was listening."
She forced a smile, but her mind was spinning. *Why did he sound… jealous?*
---
That evening, the rain refused to stop. The office emptied, but Aanya stayed behind, finishing her drafts. The lights dimmed softly, thunder rumbling in the distance.
She was lost in her words when a voice said behind her, "You shouldn't walk home in this rain."
She turned. Arjun stood there, jacket in hand, his hair slightly damp.
"I didn't realize you were still here, sir."
He shrugged. "Neither did I. Until I saw your desk light."
For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of rain filled the silence — steady, intimate.
He walked closer, glancing at her notes. "You work too hard."
"I could say the same about you," she replied softly.
Arjun looked at her, eyes intense. "Work keeps me safe."
"From what?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He hesitated — just long enough for her to realize there was a story behind his silence. Then he looked away. "From remembering."
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside her. "Sometimes remembering isn't bad," she whispered. "It means you still care."
He gave a small, sad smile. "And sometimes caring is the problem."
Their eyes met — and this time, neither looked away.
The world outside blurred behind raindrops, and for that heartbeat, everything else disappeared.
Then lightning flashed, and the moment broke.
Arjun exhaled softly. "I'll drop you home. Come on."
---
The drive was quiet, except for the rain tapping against the windshield. Mumbai glowed in puddles of light and reflection. Aanya watched the city pass by, heart heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, she said, "You know, you don't always have to hide behind rules."
He glanced at her. "And you don't always have to challenge them."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe we both need to stop pretending we don't care."
The car stopped outside her building. For a moment, she thought he might say something — but instead, he simply said, "Good night, Miss Mehta."
She nodded. "Good night… sir."
But as she stepped out into the rain, she turned back once more — and saw him watching her from inside the car. His expression unreadable, torn between restraint and something dangerously close to affection.
---
Upstairs, she stood by her window, watching the rain pour endlessly.
She pressed her palm against the cold glass, whispering to herself,
"Why does it feel like this story is already written — and I'm just catching up?"
Far across the city, Arjun sat in his car, rain streaking down the windshield.
He leaned back, closing his eyes.
For years, he had kept his heart locked away — no distractions, no feelings. But now, the lock was starting to break.
And the reason had a name — **Aanya Mehta**.