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A U T H O R

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She hadn't laid eyes on him in weeks.

Hadn't responded to his calls. Hadn't picked up his messages.
She'd convinced herself it was the proper thing — mature, clean, removed.

But the moment she turned away from the corridor towards the front door of the office, her heart crashed into her ribs.

Neel.

Standing there next to his black SUV, resting against it as if he was that place. The light of the evening cast his face in harsh angles — exhausted, expressionless, but recognizably Neel.

She glanced away at once, feigning inspection of her phone, hurrying.

But she didn't get far.

"Shyna."

His voice was low. Unyielding. Not a demand. Not an attack. Just. inevitable.

She did not halt.

So he accompanied her.

"You're seriously going to keep ignoring me like that?"

She gritted her jaw. "Please, Neel. Don't make this harder."

"I'm not here to make anything hard. I just want a straight answer." He stood in front of her now, in her path. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I answered."

His eyes darkened, frustration flashing — not angry, but aching.

"What did you do that night — do you think I've slept since? Do you realize how many times I've had the urge to just appear and—"

She attempted to walk around him.

He gently grasped her wrist.

That's when she lost it—gently, but stinging. "Log dekh rhe hai Neel"

"I don't care."

"Well, I do," she growled softly.

His gaze never wavered from hers. "Then come with me. Two minutes. Sit in the car. Say what you have to say. But stop pretending nothing happened."

She should have said no.

But there was something in his tone that didn't leave her space to lie.

So she went along.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the atmosphere changed.

He didn't move to start the car. Didn't even put his hands on the wheel. Just spun around to face her in the passenger seat and said:

"Tell me. Why you've been running from me."

She gazed out the window. Anywhere but him. "Because this isn't right, Neel."

He didn't say anything for a long beat. "Why?"

"I'm Naina's friend."

"You were. Once. Barely."

"Doesn't matter. It's a line. It's there."

He leaned in a little. "If Naina once treated  you like you didn't exist, that's not your burden to bear."

"You don't get it." Her tone was rising for the first time. "I don't get to do things like this. I don't get to feel things for someone like you."

He froze.

"You're Neel Malhotra," she breathed, almost with rancor. "You have institutes. You enter rooms and people part for you. You're. everything.

I'm just—somebody from nowhere. An orphan with an ordinary job and borrowed aspirations."

Her throat hurt. "You shouldn't love someone like me. It's not right for you."

He didn't shift.

Didn't flinch.

Then, his voice was low and unyielding.

"Do you really believe this is about fairness?"

She parted her lips. Closed them once more.

"Think that I came here today because of some feeble impulse? That I held you back that night and remembered the instant you left?" His face clenched. "Think that I've been sending you texts just to be nice?"

He leaned in just a little, eyes fixed on hers.

"I love you, Shyna. And I've been trying to honor your silence. But you don't get to declare that you're nothing and expect me to believe it."

She bit her lip, struggling not to cry.

"I'm not trying to get your head around it," he told her. "I'm saying I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the first time I saw you smile. You were laughing at something ridiculous someone said, and I just thought — that's it. That's the noise I want to hear for the rest of my life."

Her breath hitched.

His tone softened now. "So no, I don't care who you think you are. And I don't care what your past was. You don't have to be anything but yourself for me to fall harder."

She shook her head. "Par Naina—"

"Wouldn't care," he cut in softly. "And even if she did — that wouldn't stop how I feel."

Tears pricked in her eyes. "I don't want to be the cause why people will think I stepped over the line."

"You didn't."

"I feel like I did."

He took hold of her hand then — slowly — and held her again, this time without any hurry.

Just gentle reassurance.

"You didn't cross any line," he told her. "You just… meant something to someone. And that terrifies you more than anything."

She stared at their entwined hands.

She didn't withdraw this time.

But she didn't cling either.

Because the battle within her hadn't ceased.

But something had broken open.

And that was how all storms started.

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