Dhwani's POV

The first thing she felt was the heaviness in her chest.

Like grief hadn't just passed through - it had made a home there.

The morning light slipped through the cream curtains, gentle and unaware. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, as if nothing had changed.

But inside her?

Everything had.

She blinked her eyes open slowly. Her head pounded - dull, echoing. Her body felt like it had been dragged across some invisible battlefield.

Emotionally, she had.

The sterile scent of antiseptic was faint now, replaced by warmth - cotton, faint traces of aftershave, something vaguely masculine in the room. Her eyes darted around, and that's when she saw it.

Darsh.

Sitting in the chair across the room. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped.

He wasn't watching her.

He was staring down at the floor like it had all the answers.

And for a split second, she wanted to ask if the night before had even happened.

The little girl. The surgery. The cries. The corridor.

Her collapse.

She remembered all of it.

And she remembered the arms that held her when her own body refused to stand.

She remembered the sob that ripped out of her like it was her soul tearing in two.

And how Darsh - the man who had pushed her buttons, made her life more difficult, hovered too close -

held her like she wasn't a burden.

Like she was something fragile and precious and... real.

And then-darkness. Her body gave out. And she remembered nothing after.

She pushed herself up slowly, flinching at the weight in her limbs.

He looked up instantly.

His eyes were red. Unreadable. Guarded - but not the kind she was used to from him.

"Dhwani," he said softly, standing up halfway. "You're awake."

She just nodded.

It was awkward.

Too many memories between them. Too much unsaid.

He moved closer, hesitated, then placed a bottle of water on the bedside table. "You fainted," he added unnecessarily. "It's been... almost ten hours."

Ten hours?

She had slept through the entire night?

A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her. Did she cry in his arms? Did she fall apart in front of him? The same man who'd made her days insufferable with his power games?

Yes.

And she couldn't even be mad about it now.

Because the man in front of her didn't look like the arrogant CEO who had once cornered her near elevators.

He looked like someone carrying guilt.

She tried to speak. Her throat was dry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He blinked. "What?"

"For... that," she gestured vaguely at herself. "For breaking down like that. I-I shouldn't have-"

"Stop," he said sharply. Then gentler. "Just... don't."

She looked up at him, startled.

He looked pained. His jaw clenched. "Don't apologize for being human," he added.

And for a moment, they both stared.

In silence.

In the echoes of everything that hadn't been said yet.

"I-" he began, then stopped. His voice cracked. "I should be the one saying sorry."

She said nothing.

"I was-" he exhaled. "I was cruel to you. And I knew it."

Dhwani's fingers tightened around the bedsheet.

"I thought I was in control," he admitted, voice lower now. "But I was just-lost. Obsessed. I saw how you moved through this place like you belonged. And I didn't know what to do with that. So I... tried to dim it."

Her heart twisted.

Because she had always known there was something more behind his behavior. But hearing it... it still hurt.

"I was awful," he whispered. "And last night, when you broke-when I saw what the world had done to you, and realized I was part of it..."

He shook his head.

"I didn't deserve to be there," he added, voice almost breaking, "But I didn't want to leave. I just... I couldn't."

Dhwani's eyes stung.

Not from pain. But from the quiet ache of something soft rising inside her.

"I hated you," she whispered honestly. "There were days I couldn't breathe because of how you made me feel."

He nodded slowly. He accepted that.

"And last night..." her voice cracked. "You made me feel safe."

He looked up - sharply.

"Just for a moment," she clarified, wiping her eyes. "But it was the only safe I'd felt in days."

That stunned him.

There was no kiss.

No touch.

Just honesty.

Raw, jagged, trembling honesty.

"I don't know where we go from here," she said softly.

He nodded again.

"But I'm tired of pretending none of it matters," she added. "I'm tired of building walls just to survive every shift."

Darsh looked at her like she was the most painful thing he'd ever seen.

"I want to stop running," she whispered. "I just... I don't know how."

He finally sat down beside her - this time closer, still not touching.

"Then maybe," he murmured, "we learn together."

She didn't answer.

But she didn't move away either.

And that was enough for now.

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