The morning sun poured gently into the Malhotra residence, casting a warm glow over the sleek interiors of the dining room. The table was set for breakfast, and the light hum of conversation buzzed around fresh toast, steaming tea, and newspaper rustles.

Diya was flipping through design samples on her tablet, completely engrossed, when Vikrant Malhotra lowered his newspaper and looked at her over the rim of his cup.

"So," he said, a trace of amusement in his voice, "what's your plan now? Still juggling colors and cushions?"

Without looking up, Diya replied, "It's called interior designing, Dad. And yes-I'm planning to take up a few projects here. Maybe turn this boring city into something vibrant, one room at a time."

Indira chuckled softly from beside him. "She's already messaged some clients. She's serious."

Vikrant nodded thoughtfully, a smile tugging at his lips. "Just don't start renovating our home. I like my boring rooms."

Across the table, Dharsh was silently sipping his black coffee, letting the chatter swirl around him.

Diya, noticing his silence, smirked. "You know, Dharsh, I was thinking... why don't you just fire Dhwani?"

His brows lifted slightly. "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious," she said, laughing. "She's always too busy. If she's not running around the hospital, she's locked up in your cabin. I barely get to talk to her anymore."

Indira nodded along. "It's true. Poor girl's working herself to the bone. She looks thinner every time I see her."

"She's a doctor," Dharsh said flatly, but there was a tightness in his voice that betrayed more. "That's what doctors do. They lose track of everything else."

His words were casual, but his mind had already drifted-back to that night in the car, when she had completely broken down. Her tears. Her shaking hands. The way she had tried to apologize for simply being overwhelmed. That memory had been living rent-free in his head ever since.

Diya's voice brought him back. "You could at least give her a lighter shift, you know. She's still funny, though. Still trying to make jokes even when she looks like she's about to pass out."

He didn't reply. Instead, he stirred his coffee absently, thoughts clouded by an image of Dhwani's tired yet persistent smile.

---

At the other end of the city, Dhwani was having a rare slow morning. No chaotic alarms. No rushing out with a half-eaten breakfast. Just a calm, unhurried routine that felt almost foreign.

She stood by her dresser, tying her hair into a neat ponytail. Her evening shift left her with more time than usual, and she was trying not to overthink how strange it felt to breathe.

Her mom stepped into the room, holding out a small container. "Here," she said, placing it into Dhwani's hands. "Cut fruit and two sandwiches. Eat them. No excuses."

"I will, Ma," Dhwani promised, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Cross my heart."

Her dad peeked in, grinning. "That poor fruit won't survive past the parking lot."

"Papa!" she groaned, laughing.

"I'm just saying! You carry food and then forget to eat it."

Her mom shook her head, slipping a hairpin into Dhwani's bun. "Don't listen to him. Just make sure you get at least one proper meal."

"Got it. I'll eat while I check reports or something," she said, planting a kiss on her mom's cheek before heading out.

---

She drove herself to the hospital, windows rolled down slightly, the late afternoon breeze brushing across her face. Music played low, just enough to distract her from the nervous thrum under her ribs.

The memory of that night with Dharsh hadn't faded. In fact, it had been haunting her quietly all week-the way she'd broken down in front of him, let her emotions spill. She wasn't used to that kind of vulnerability. Especially not with someone like him.

She parked her car in her usual spot and stepped out, adjusting her coat and checking her ID badge.

Just then, a familiar figure walked across the lot.

Dharsh.

He was in a navy-blue shirt today, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his watch and the clean, sharp lines of his arms. His gaze was focused, posture relaxed-but there was something alert in the way he moved, like he noticed more than he let on.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them looked away immediately, either.

She felt her pulse tick up. He simply nodded once-barely-and kept walking.

---

They ended up waiting for the same elevator.

Dhwani stood with her back straight, trying not to look nervous. Dharsh stood beside her, arms folded, quiet. The lift doors opened and they both stepped in, the silence wrapping around them like a thick, invisible curtain.

She focused on the floor buttons. He focused on the numbers above.

He stole a glance her way-noticed the way she clutched her bag, how her fingers fidgeted with her ID card. She looked like a cat cornered. Skittish. Alert. Still beautiful, somehow.

She doesn't even realize how expressive her face is, he thought.

On the other side, Dhwani was chewing on her embarrassment. After that breakdown in his arm, every glance felt heavy. She wished she could erase that night, but it was etched too deeply now. The way he hadn't said a word about it made it worse-like he didn't care. Or maybe he did. She didn't know anymore.

The elevator dinged. They walked out-again, in silence.

---

Her rounds were quiet that evening. A few check-ins, some file updates. Nothing urgent. She stood by the nurses' station, flipping through patient records, mentally reviewing prescriptions, when a junior staff member approached.

"Dr. Dhwani?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"The CEO asked to see you. His office."

Dhwani blinked. "Now?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. He just said to come immediately."

Dhwani sighed, her fingers tightening around the file. "Great. What does he want now?" she muttered under her breath, already walking.

Her shoes tapped softly against the polished floor as she reached the glass-panelled office. Her heart thudded once-loudly.

She raised her hand and knocked gently.

A cool, familiar voice responded from inside.

"Come in."

---