Sameera's POV:
Time didn't slow down. It shifted—quietly, almost imperceptibly—but enough for me to feel it in the way my breath caught and refused to settle. My hand was still in his. Warm. Firm.
But not the way I remembered.
There was a certain steadiness to it, a controlled strength that felt… unfamiliar. Not careless, not distant—but not gentle either. Not the Saharsh who once held me like I was his whole world, something fragile, something he didn't want to let go of.
This grip felt practiced. Professional. Like a handshake. Nothing more.
"I'm Saharsh Wankhade, Founder and CEO of AetherEdge Technologies." His voice. The same depth. The same clarity. And yet… something was missing. Or maybe something had been added—something colder, sharper, more contained.
For a moment, I forgot where I was. My eyes slowly lifted from our hands to his face, almost afraid of what I'd find there. And there he was. Exactly the same. And completely different. His expression didn't change. Not even slightly. No flicker of recognition, no pause, no hesitation.
Just calm. Composed. Unreadable.
He released my hand before I could even process the moment. "Please proceed," he said, already moving ahead, his attention shifting back to the room as if nothing unusual had just happened.
As if I hadn't just happened.
I stood there for a second longer than I should have, something tightening quietly in my chest. Then I turned. Because I had to, this wasn't the place to stop.
The room settled into order again, everyone taking their seats, conversations lowering into focused silence. I moved toward the front, connecting my laptop, letting the familiar rhythm of work take over.
"Sameera, you may begin."
Divya's voice grounded me.
I nodded and faced the room, forcing everything inside me to still.
"Good morning everyone. Today, I'll be presenting the product architecture and user experience strategy for this collaboration." The presentation began. And for a while, I let myself disappear into it. Slides moved smoothly. Words came easily. Logic aligned exactly the way I had rehearsed. I spoke about everything I had worked on for weeks. Everything I knew. Everything I had become.
But somewhere between, I felt it. A quiet pull.
My eyes lifted, almost involuntarily. Toward him. He was looking at the screen. Focused. Attentive. Completely engaged in the presentation.
Like any other professional in the room.
I shifted my gaze back instantly, continuing without missing a word.
"…we've also ensured scalability by optimizing the request cycles—"
A few minutes later, it happened again. A small pause. A slight shift. And my eyes went back to him.
Same thing.
No reaction.
No interruption.
No acknowledgment.
I answered another question, moved to the next slide, explained another feature. Everything was flowing perfectly. And yet… Something inside me felt unsettled.
Was he avoiding looking at me? Or was he just… not looking at me at all? The thought slipped in quietly. I didn't let it affect my voice. Didn't let it show in my expression. But it stayed there, at the back of my mind, growing heavier with every passing minute.
Because this— This wasn't how I imagined it would be. Not that I should have imagined anything. But still…
The presentation ended. Applause followed. Conversations picked up again. A few people leaned forward to discuss details, others made notes, some nodded in approval. "Impressive work." "Very structured." I responded where needed, maintaining the same calm professionalism I had held throughout.
But even then…
Even in the middle of all that noise— My attention drifted back to him. He was speaking to someone beside him now, discussing something related to the proposal. Focused. Involved. Completely present in the conversation.
And still—
Not once—
Did he look at me.
A strange thought settled in my mind, quiet but persistent. Was he really just being professional? Or was he… pretending not to know me at all?
And somehow…
I didn't know which one hurt more.
The discussion went on —but before anything could fully transition into the next phase, Divya's voice cut through the space. "Mr. Wankhade," she said, composed as ever, "what are your thoughts so far? Do you have any questions or concerns regarding the plan?"
All eyes turned toward him. Including mine. Saharsh didn't rush to respond. He leaned back slightly in his chair, glancing once at the documents in front of him before looking up—not at me, not at anyone in particular, just… ahead.
"It's fine," he said. His tone was flat. Controlled. Almost… indifferent.
A brief pause followed, as if the room expected more. More feedback. More engagement. Something. But he didn't offer anything else. Instead, he added, "Let's proceed with the signing. The sooner we close this, the better."
No discussion.
No elaboration.
No interest.
And just like that, he stood up. The movement was abrupt enough to shift the energy in the room. A few people exchanged glances. Someone tried to say something, but he had already started walking toward the door. Not looking back.
I just stood there. Still. Watching him leave. Trying to understand what I had just witnessed. This wasn't just professionalism. This was… distance.
"Sameera."
I blinked, turning toward the voice. One of the board members was looking at me.
"Yes?"
"Take the signing documents to Mr. Wankhade and get them signed."
I frowned slightly. "Shouldn't Divya ma'am handle that?" It was instinctive. Logical. The board member shook his head.
"No. You'll be handling this project moving forward."
For a second, I didn't process it.
"I'm sorry… what?"
"You'll be the project lead from our side," he clarified. "Which means you'll be managing all coordination with AetherEdge Technologies." A pause. "You'll have your own team." My fingers tightened around the laptop in my hand.
My own… team? The words should have felt exciting. Big. Everything I had worked for. But right now? They felt… distant. Because my mind was still stuck somewhere else.
On him.
"Sameera," Divya's voice came from beside me. I turned. And for the first time— She was smiling. Not fully. But enough. "Go," she said simply. "Catch him before he leaves. Run."
That snapped something back into place. I quickly grabbed the signing papers from the table, barely processing anything else as I hurried out of the room. My heels clicking faster against the floor as I moved, almost breaking into a run.
"Saharsh!"
I called out. Once. Twice. No response. He was already ahead. Walking toward the exit. Not slowing down. Not turning back.
"Saharsh!"
This time louder. But Nothing. He reached the parking area, unlocking his car with a single click. I pushed myself faster, the papers clutched tightly in my hand. "Saharsh, wait—!" He didn't. He opened the door, got in, and shut it without even glancing in my direction.
For a split second— I thought he would stop. That he would at least look at me once. But he didn't. The engine started. The car moved. And I was still running toward it. Calling his name. Trying— Until it was too late. The car drove past me. Out of the gate. Out of reach.
I slowed down. Then stopped. Standing there in the middle of the parking lot, the papers still in my hand, my breath uneven, my chest rising and falling too fast. The silence that followed felt louder than everything before. And for the first time since seeing him again— A thought settled in clearly. He wasn't just ignoring me.
He was… choosing to.
---
By the time I walked back into the office, my breath had settled—
but my mind hadn't. Divya was waiting.
Of course she was.
Her eyes went straight to the papers still in my hand. Unsigned. "Sameera," she said, her tone sharp, controlled—the kind that didn't need to be loud to hit hard, "I asked you to get those signed."
"I tried—he left before I could—"
"That's not an answer," she cut in immediately. Silence fell around us. I straightened unconsciously. "This is not a college assignment you can redo later," she continued. "This is a deal. And you are responsible for it."
Her words were precise. Each one landing exactly where it needed to.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "I'll fix it."
She studied me for a second. Then sighed—just slightly. Not soft. But not as sharp either. "His office address," she said, sliding a note toward me. "Go there." I looked down. AetherEdge Technologies. "Get those papers signed today," she added. "No delays."
A pause.
Then, almost as an afterthought— "And Sameera… don't let personal distractions interfere with professional work."
That hit. Harder than the scolding. I nodded. Picked up the papers. And walked out again.
Outside, I stood near the gate, waiting for my cab. The sun felt harsher than usual. Or maybe it was just me. I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "Did he really have to come back like this…?" I muttered under my breath. Like a storm. Out of nowhere. When everything had finally started feeling… stable.
My phone buzzed.
Rishi.
"Hello?"
"So?" she said instantly. "Big corporate queen, how did it go?"
I let out a dry laugh. "You're not going to believe this."
"Try me."
And I told her. Everything. The meeting. The presentation. Him. There was a pause on the other end. Longer than usual. "So…" she said slowly, "how did it feel?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Seeing him again."
I didn't answer immediately. Didn't want to.
"It was just unexpected," I said finally. "That's all."
"Hmm," she hummed, clearly not convinced. "And if it affected you this much…" A pause. "Then maybe you haven't forgotten him yet."
I scoffed. "Rishi, please."
"I'm serious," she continued, teasing now. "Maybe this is your chance—"
"Stop it," I cut her off. "There is no 'chance.' There is nothing."
Silence. Then a soft chuckle from her side. "Denial looks good on you."
"Bye, Rishi." I cut the call before she could say anything else. My cab arrived. I got in. And the drive felt longer than it should have.
By the time I reached AetherEdge Technologies, my frustration had already started building again. The building stood tall. Sleek. Modern. Exactly what you'd expect from a company like his. I walked in, straight to the reception.
"Hi," I said, keeping my tone professional. "I'm Sameera from Ardent Systems. I'm here to meet Mr. Wankhade."
The receptionist smiled politely. "Do you have an appointment?"
"He's expecting the signing documents," I replied, holding them slightly up.
She nodded. "Please have a seat. I'll inform him."
I sat. Waited. Five minutes. Ten. Thirty. An hour. My fingers tapped restlessly against the file. No call. No update. Nothing.
I stood up, walking back to the desk. "Any update?"
"He's currently in a meeting," she said with a polite smile. "He'll see you soon."
I nodded. Sat back down. Another hour passed. Now, irritation wasn't just there— It was growing. "This is ridiculous," I muttered under my breath. I hadn't eaten. Hadn't rested. And he was just— Making me wait?
My phone rang again.
Rishi.
"Alive?" she asked immediately.
"Barely," I said, leaning back in the chair. "He's making me wait. It's been hours."
"What?" she frowned audibly. "You haven't eaten, have you?"
"No."
"Sameera—"
I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I swear, if this is intentional—"
"It probably is," she said calmly.
I went silent.
"Sam…" her tone softened slightly, "it's been two years." I didn't respond. "You both didn't end things well," she continued. "You can't expect him to just… smile and welcome you like nothing happened."
That… made sense. More than I wanted it to. "And also," she added, a hint of amusement returning, "did you forget what I gave you this morning?"
I frowned. "What—"
"The chocolate, idiot."
I blinked. Then slowly reached into my bag. Found it. A small, unexpected smile tugged at my lips.
"Eat it," she ordered.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Sameera…"
"Hmm?"
"He might have changed." A pause. "So have you."
The line went quiet after that. I leaned back in the chair, unwrapping the chocolate slowly. Her words lingered. Maybe she was right. Maybe this… Was exactly how it was supposed to be. But still— As I sat there, waiting. One thought kept returning. Was he really that busy? Or was he making me wait on purpose?
The chocolate was long gone. So was my patience. I checked the time again.
Three hours.
Three whole hours of sitting there like I had nothing better to do. The reception area had changed twice since I arrived. New people had come, meetings had started and ended, employees walked past me with purpose—while I sat there, stuck in the same place, holding the same file.
Waiting.
I stood up again, this time not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. "Excuse me," I said to the receptionist, "it's been a while. Can you please check again?"
She gave me the same polite smile. "Ma'am, he's still in a meeting."
Something in me snapped.
"Three hours?" I asked, my tone sharper now. "He's been in a meeting for three hours?"
A slight hesitation flickered across her face. "I'll check again," she said quickly, picking up the phone. I crossed my arms, tapping my foot against the floor, my eyes fixed on the desk as she spoke in a low voice. A few seconds later, she hung up. "Ma'am… you can go up now."
Finally.
"Cabin?" I asked.
"Top floor. Last office on the right."
I didn't wait. Didn't thank her. Just turned and walked straight toward the elevators. Each second inside that elevator felt longer than the three hours I had just spent waiting. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls. Calm face. But my eyes? They weren't calm.
The doors opened. The top floor was… different. Quieter. More spacious. Power had a different kind of silence. I walked down the corridor, my steps echoing softly. One door. Two. Three. Last office on the right. I stopped. My hand hovering over the handle for a second.
Two years. And now this.
I didn't knock. I pushed the door open. He was there. Sitting behind the desk. Calm. Composed. As if he had been there the entire time. His eyes lifted slowly. Met mine. And for a second— Everything else faded again. But this time… I didn't let it.
"Mr. Wankhade," I said, my voice steady, professional, as I walked in and placed the papers on his desk. "The signing documents."
No greeting.
No hesitation.
No emotion.
If he noticed— He didn't show it. He leaned back slightly in his chair, glancing at the papers without touching them. Then his eyes shifted back to me.
"You took your time."
The words were calm. But they weren't neutral.
I let out a small, disbelieving breath. "Excuse me?" His gaze didn't waver. "I've been waiting." A sharp laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"I've been downstairs for three hours."
Something flickered in his eyes. So quick I almost missed it. But it was gone just as fast. "I wasn't informed," he said, his tone flat.
I stared at him. Trying to read him. Trying to understand— Was that true? Or was he just… saying it? "Right," I said slowly. "Well… I'm here now." Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Unfamiliar.
He finally picked up the file, flipping it open with practiced ease, scanning through the pages. I stood there. Watching him. Two years and this…This was our first conversation. Not a question. Not an explanation. Not even anger. Just… Cold distance.
"Everything seems in order," he said after a moment, reaching for the pen. My fingers tightened slightly at my sides. This was it? That's all this was going to be? He signed the papers and closed the file. Sliding it back toward me. "Anything else?"
I didn't move immediately. Didn't pick up the file. Didn't break eye contact. Because something inside me refused to accept this. This version of him. This distance. And before I could stop myself— I spoke.
"Saharsh."
The name slipped out. Soft. Unplanned.
And for the first time since I walked into the room—
He stilled.