The next morning, Aarvi arrived earlier than usual.
Partly because she wanted to prove herself.
Partly because sleep had refused to come to her last night.
Her mother's hospital call kept replaying in her mind.
She needed this job.
She needed to keep it.
When she reached the top floor, the lights in Riyan's office were already on.
He comes earlier than everyone… even on days he looks exhausted.
She placed her bag down quietly and started arranging the documents he would need for the day. She was halfway through sorting when the door to his office opened.
Riyan stepped out, hair slightly messy, tie loose, eyes sharp even though fatigue lingered behind them.
He paused when he saw her.
"You're early," he said.
"I just thought it would be better to get things ready for the day," she replied softly.
A strange expression flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe—but it vanished before she could be sure.
He set a file on her desk. "Organize this and send it to the legal department."
She nodded and opened it… and instantly felt something twist inside her chest.
It wasn't a business document.
Not a contract.
Not anything work-related.
It was a medical report.
Name: Riyan Malhotra.
Status: Confidential.
Diagnosis line—partially visible—mentioned the words:
"stress-induced episodes… recommended therapy… recurring insomnia…"
Aarvi froze.
This wasn't meant for her.
This wasn't meant for anyone.
Before she could close the file, his shadow fell over her desk.
Riyan took the folder back instantly, snapping it shut.
"Don't go through files unless I tell you to," he said flatly.
His voice wasn't angry.
It wasn't sharp.
It was… defensive.
Guarded.
Aarvi stood up quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I thought it was part of your documents for the day."
His jaw clenched—a brief flash of something raw crossing his face.
"Forget what you saw."
"I didn't see anything," she whispered, but they both knew it wasn't true.
Silence stretched between them.
Thick.
Weighted.
Uncomfortable.
He stepped back slightly, as if he needed distance.
"This is exactly why I don't like people getting too close," he muttered—more to himself than to her.
Aarvi swallowed. "I wasn't trying to—"
"Miss Sharma," he interrupted, finally meeting her eyes, "don't ask questions. Don't assume anything. Just do your job."
The words stung, not because they were harsh, but because there was something behind them—fear, maybe. Or the memory of someone who had crossed a line once.
She lowered her gaze. "I understand."
He hesitated for a moment… then exhaled quietly, like he regretted snapping at her.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said, voice softer now. "Just… be careful. There are things about my life you shouldn't get involved in."
Aarvi nodded slowly.
He didn't realize the irony—
he was the one pulling her closer without meaning to.
---
A Few Hours Later
Aarvi brought him his schedule for the next meeting. She knocked gently.
"Come in," he said.
She stepped inside—only to find him sitting with his head slightly bowed, fingers pressed to his temples. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
He didn't look like the arrogant billionaire CEO.
He looked… human.
"Are you… are you okay?" Aarvi asked before she could stop herself.
He didn't answer for a moment.
Then he opened his eyes. There was something vulnerable in them—something he probably didn't show anyone.
"It's nothing," he said quietly. "Just a headache."
Aarvi hesitated, then said softly, "You work too much."
His eyes lifted to hers, surprised.
No one said things like that to him.
Everyone feared him too much.
But she didn't.
Not in this moment.
"I'll bring you some warm water," she offered.
He blinked—caught off guard, not used to being cared for.
"You don't have to."
"I know," she said gently. "I want to."
For the first time since she met him, his expression softened—just a fraction.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Only two words.
But they felt heavier than anything he had said before.
---
Later That Day
When she returned with the warm water, he took it quietly, fingers brushing hers for the briefest second.
A faint warmth spread through her skin.
As she turned to leave, he spoke again.
"Miss Sharma."
She stopped. "Yes?"
His eyes held hers in a way that made her heartbeat shift.
"Whatever you saw in that file… keep it to yourself."
"I will," she said softly.
His voice dropped, almost like a confession he hadn't intended to make.
"I don't trust easily."
Aarvi nodded. "I'm not here to hurt you."
He didn't reply.
He just looked at her.
And in that silent moment, she understood something:
The secrets she accidentally touched weren't just medical reports.
They were the cracks in his armor—
The pieces of a man who had been breaking long before she walked into his life.