Part 18
Geet paced her small apartment restlessly, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. She pressed her fingers lightly to her forehead, still feeling the lingering warmth of Maan’s lips where he had gently kissed her. The ghost of his touch was sweet, tender, achingly innocent—and it left her even more confused than before.
Twice before, in their early days, he had kissed her—boldly, passionately. Both times she hadn't anticipated it; both times he had taken her breath away, unraveled her composure, left her body and mind reeling. She'd dismissed those moments as fleeting impulsiveness on his part—attraction born from curiosity or challenge rather than genuine affection.
Yet today had felt different. They had spent such a beautiful day together—laughing, sharing, enjoying each other's company like friends, or maybe something deeper. For once, she'd allowed herself hope. Hope for something real, something lasting.
So, when he stepped closer in that charged silence outside her door, she'd closed her eyes, heart pounding with anticipation, ready to meet him halfway in a kiss. Instead, he'd touched his lips softly to her forehead. It felt reverent, caring, but strangely distant—like an older brother, or a dear friend offering comfort.
Her throat tightened as uncertainty gripped her. What did it mean?
Did he not want more? Had he come along only because she'd asked? Maybe he'd simply felt obligated because she'd invited him and he didn't know how to refuse without hurting her feelings. Was this kiss merely politeness because she had closed her eyes?
Geet felt a burning heat rise to her cheeks at the thought. Perhaps he'd read her expectation, her desperate hope, and responded kindly rather than truthfully. The thought made her stomach twist painfully. She'd foolishly thought they might share something special today—had been bold enough, hopeful enough, to imagine a real kiss—warm, intimate, genuine.
"Stop it, Geet," she scolded herself aloud, her voice echoing in her empty apartment. "You're overthinking again."
But she couldn't dismiss the sinking feeling that settled heavy in her chest. She'd learned long ago never to expect too much, especially from someone as elusive and enigmatic as Maan Singh Khurana. Yet, despite her repeated warnings to herself, she'd foolishly begun hoping.
Walking toward the window, she stared at the soft lights glowing in the distant city, the faint sound of carnival music carried on the wind reaching her ears. She hugged herself, suddenly feeling very alone.
"Maan," she whispered softly to herself, the name escaping her lips like a sigh, a wish she barely dared admit. "What do you really feel?"
Her heart remained heavy with questions, with longing, with the ache of uncertainty. The gentle press of his lips lingered on her forehead like a sweetly painful reminder of what she wanted—and feared she might never truly have.
++++
The next morning, Geet entered the bustling Khurana Enterprises office, her emotions still tangled in knots. The gentle warmth of Maan’s forehead kiss lingered, confusing and comforting in equal measure. She told herself firmly to stop replaying the scene over and over, but her stubborn heart refused to listen.
At her desk, Geet tried to bury herself in work, scanning through emails and documents without truly seeing them. Her gaze kept drifting toward Maan’s cabin, the glass walls giving her an unobstructed view of him engrossed in deep conversation with Mr. Sharma, his long-serving secretary who was retiring soon.
All morning, Maan seemed immersed in discussions, shoulders tense, eyes serious, as he handled the knowledge transfer personally. Rumor was they were struggling badly to find Mr. Sharma’s replacement—no candidate measured up, leaving Maan visibly strained as he attempted to take on extra responsibilities himself.
She found herself watching Maan subtly, hoping for even a brief glance, a reassuring smile, or some acknowledgment that yesterday had truly happened—that it mattered to him too. But the acknowledgement never came.
He never looked her way—not even once. Not during his rapid back-and-forth conversations, nor during hurried coffee breaks between intense sessions with Mr. Sharma. He moved around swiftly, professional and detached, the enigmatic CEO entirely in charge, and utterly inaccessible.
Her heart twisted softly with disappointment, anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. Was he deliberately avoiding her, or was this simply his practical, focused self dealing with office emergencies? Perhaps yesterday meant nothing to him. Perhaps she was merely reading far too much into a single, fleeting kiss.
Sighing quietly, Geet forced herself to look away, chastising herself internally.
Focus, Geet, she reminded herself sternly. He's busy, and you have work to do.
Yet despite her internal scolding, she found it impossible to entirely shake the confusion and longing quietly blooming in her heart.
+++
Geet stood by the breakroom counter, a warm cup of tea cradled between her fingers as she absently listened to her colleagues chatting animatedly. Nisha held her phone, scrolling through Instagram reels, while Kavya and Meera leaned in curiously.
“See this?” Nisha announced, giggling softly, “The reel says that men usually know within a few minutes if they’re serious about the girl or not.”
Kavya scoffed playfully, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. And yet we fools sit and wait months—years even—for the guy to propose or commit, only to see him marry someone else in a heartbeat.”
Meera groaned dramatically, “Exactly! Why are we always so blind?”
Geet, who had been half-listening, suddenly frowned, her lips forming a soft pout as her mind raced back to Maan’s gentle forehead kiss and the lack of any communication since. Without thinking, she murmured quietly, more to herself than to the group, “Then... what does it mean if someone doesn’t call after a date? Or just kisses your forehead, or doesn’t even hint at another date? What exactly does that indicate?”
The room fell instantly silent. All three girls turned in unison, their eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity.
“Geet… are you seeing someone?” Nisha asked excitedly, leaning closer.
Geet blinked, realizing her slip too late, her eyes widening comically as panic set in. She quickly shook her head, her voice stumbling nervously, “No! No, of course not—it's nothing! Really!”
Meera grinned widely, nudging Kavya knowingly. “Ohhh, look at that face—she’s definitely hiding something.”
“Come on, Geet,” Kavya urged gently, her voice teasing, “Tell us who this mysterious date is. We promise to keep it a secret.”
Geet felt warmth flooding her cheeks, heart racing in embarrassment. She raised her hands defensively, eyes wide and frantic like a deer caught in headlights, “No, no—seriously! It was just a hypothetical situation—nothing real at all!”
Her colleagues exchanged amused glances, clearly unconvinced, yet they allowed her a gracious reprieve, turning back to their phones, still whispering and giggling among themselves.
Geet exhaled shakily, her heart still pounding, mentally berating herself for letting her feelings spill out so carelessly. She sipped her tea, eyes wandering briefly toward Maan’s closed cabin door, unable to suppress the tiny, wistful sigh that escaped her lips.
Hypothetical, indeed, she thought bitterly, her confusion and longing deeper than ever.
+++
After the embarrassing slip in the breakroom, Geet returned quietly to her desk, face still flushed with embarrassment. She opened her laptop, attempting to lose herself in her inbox, but her thoughts stubbornly refused to settle.
Her gaze drifted helplessly toward Maan’s cabin once more, only to find him still engrossed in conversation with Mr. Sharma, completely oblivious to her turmoil. A faint sigh escaped her lips as she quickly diverted her gaze, feeling an inexplicable pang in her chest.
She mentally replayed her colleagues' teasing, feeling even more confused and self-conscious. Were they right? Did men really know immediately how serious they were about someone? Was the forehead kiss Maan's gentle way of telling her he wasn't interested—or worse, that he saw her as nothing more than a friend?
She shook her head firmly, her heart protesting. He had kissed her twice before; passionate kisses, full of desire and urgency. But perhaps things had changed. Perhaps yesterday had clarified his feelings—that whatever brief spark they'd shared earlier was gone, replaced by polite indifference.
Just as her thoughts threatened to spiral again, Geet’s phone pinged softly. She jumped slightly, heart skipping as she quickly checked the message, foolishly hoping it might be him.
It wasn't. Just an automated reminder from her calendar, mundane and impersonal.
"Great," she muttered softly, closing her eyes briefly in frustration. "I'm losing my mind."
Determined to regain her composure, Geet forced herself back into work, typing rapidly, checking reports, scheduling meetings—anything to silence the inner chaos. But no matter how much she tried, her heart stubbornly lingered on Maan's unreadable expression from last night and that gentle, polite forehead kiss that had left her with far more questions than answers.
Geet returned quietly to her desk, resolving to keep her emotions firmly in check. She shook her head softly, smiling ruefully to herself. Am I overthinking this again? It was just a forehead kiss. Maybe I’m reading way too much into it. She forced herself to refocus on her work, determined not to dwell on her earlier embarrassment or confused feelings.
But just as she began to settle, the sharp, unmistakable click of high heels echoed confidently through the office, causing every head to turn toward the entrance.
A woman walked in, her stride effortlessly bold, her presence instantly commanding attention. Geet’s fingers paused mid-typing as her eyes widened, openly staring in genuine awe.
The woman—Priyanka—was shamelessly sexy, exuding a kind of polished elegance and confident allure that spoke volumes about her affluent background. Her designer clothing, tailored perfectly to accentuate her voluptuous figure, practically oozed money. Her luxurious dress and striking red-soled heels highlighted her sophistication and privilege, effortlessly proclaiming her belonging to Maan’s elite world—one of wealth, Ivy League prestige, and families who likely knew each other personally. Voluminous, expertly styled curls framed Priyanka’s beautiful face, enhancing her glamorous appeal and heightening the stark contrast between her and Geet’s simpler style.
Geet couldn’t help the quiet, almost involuntary murmur that escaped her lips: "She is sexy…" Her own words startled her, cheeks flushing as she quickly averted her eyes.
Around her, the office erupted into soft whispers of admiration, intrigue, and curiosity. Nisha leaned discreetly toward Kavya, eyes wide, whispering, "Who’s that?"
Before Geet could process further, Maan emerged from his cabin, his demeanor shifting instantly. The tension and busyness that had enveloped him all morning melted away as he stepped forward, a rare, genuine smile softening his expression. He greeted Priyanka warmly, clearly familiar, as though reuniting with someone from his own comfortable world.
"That's Priyanka," Meera whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Geet, eyes shining with curiosity. "I heard she’s replacing Mr. Sharma as Maan Sir’s personal secretary. She’s Ivy League, just like him."
Geet’s heart sank slightly at Meera’s words. Her eyes followed Priyanka closely, noting how effortlessly she carried herself—bold, confident, and completely at ease. Priyanka laughed openly, her voice smooth and melodic, capturing Maan’s attention effortlessly. Geet felt an uncomfortable twist of insecurity settle deep in her chest.
She glanced down at her own modest professional attire—neat, understated, devoid of flashy makeup or styled hair. Despite once being an actress and model herself, she had deliberately chosen a simpler look, determined to prove her worth in the corporate world through dedication and hard work, knowing she lacked the Ivy League credentials Priyanka proudly possessed.
Why wouldn’t Maan prefer someone like her? Geet thought bitterly, feeling increasingly inadequate. If I were him, I would probably choose Priyanka too.
Yet, even as logic whispered defeat, a stubborn flicker of hope still lingered in Geet’s heart, rooted in the small, meaningful moments she’d shared with Maan. But watching him smile so effortlessly at Priyanka—seeing the comfortable, natural ease between them—began slowly eroding even that fragile hope.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, forcing her gaze back to her screen. Stay within your limits, Geet, she reminded herself firmly. He’s your boss, and this is your workplace. Don’t make things complicated.
Still, despite her silent resolve, Geet couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting once more toward Maan’s office, a quiet, aching uncertainty settling painfully in her chest.
Geet fought to focus on her tasks, but Priyanka’s vibrant presence was impossible to ignore. Her laughter, bright and melodic, echoed through the office, drawing admiring glances from colleagues and subtly tightening the knot of insecurity in Geet’s chest.
Despite herself, Geet's eyes repeatedly drifted toward Maan's office. He appeared relaxed, almost enchanted, the usual hardness in his expression softened by Priyanka’s effortless charm. Why does it feel like I’m losing him? Geet wondered bitterly, a pang of jealousy gnawing quietly at her heart. We’ve shared so much history, yet here I am, invisible to him while she shines bright like a star.
As Priyanka began introducing herself to the staff, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. She moved fluidly from desk to desk, her expensive heels clicking confidently, her smile dazzling everyone she met. She spoke playfully, drawing colleagues in effortlessly. Geet watched helplessly, her insecurities magnifying with every interaction. She doesn't even have to try, she thought, envy mingling with admiration.
Finally, Priyanka reached Geet's desk. Her confident smile widened as she approached, eyes sparkling curiously. "Hey there! You must be Geet. I've heard so much about you—Maan speaks very highly of your work," she said, her voice dripping with a warmth that somehow felt just slightly calculated.
"Oh…thank you," Geet replied, forcing a polite smile as she wondered privately: What exactly did he say about me?
“So, how do you like working here?” Priyanka asked conversationally, leaning forward slightly, her luxurious curls cascading effortlessly over her shoulder.
Geet hesitated for a brief moment before responding evenly, "It's been great. I'm learning a lot."
"I bet you are," Priyanka smiled knowingly, tilting her head slightly. "Maan’s a fascinating guy, isn’t he?"
Geet’s heart tightened at the ease with which Priyanka spoke his name. "Yes, he is," she answered carefully, keeping her tone neutral. "He has his own unique way of running things."
Priyanka's smile grew subtly sharper, her eyes gleaming as if she was assessing Geet. "You seem really dedicated. I admire that," she paused slightly, voice lowering conspiratorially, "but don’t forget to have fun too. Life’s too short, right?"
Geet stiffened slightly, feeling the subtle sting hidden beneath Priyanka’s playful tone. Was this a veiled suggestion that she was dull—or worse, inexperienced? Suppressing her instinctive defensiveness, she replied calmly, "Of course," turning pointedly back toward her laptop.
Priyanka lingered just a moment longer, her gaze flickering thoughtfully toward Maan’s office before she turned and walked away, her elegant stride radiating effortless confidence.
Once Priyanka was safely out of earshot, Geet released a shaky breath, scolding herself internally. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so threatened? After all, Maan wasn't hers. They’d never even openly defined what existed between them.
Still, images of Maan’s gentle expression while interacting with Priyanka replayed stubbornly in Geet’s mind, gradually eroding the fragile hope she'd secretly nurtured. She quietly resolved to rise above her insecurities, reminding herself fiercely, I came here to build a career and prove myself—not to chase after feelings that might never be returned.
Throughout the rest of the day, Geet poured herself into work, deliberately ignoring the ongoing hum of admiration and excitement Priyanka left in her wake. But every now and then, Priyanka’s laughter or Maan’s relaxed voice drifted through the office, leaving Geet feeling increasingly isolated and uncertain of her place in his world.
By the end of the day, emotionally and mentally drained, Geet gathered her belongings and headed toward the elevator. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by confusion and resignation. As the elevator doors began sliding closed, a familiar hand swiftly reached in, stopping them.
Maan stepped inside, looking slightly disheveled yet undeniably attractive. The air between them thickened instantly, charged with unspoken tension and questions neither seemed prepared to answer.
"Hey," he said softly, glancing at her, his expression guarded and unreadable.
Geet's heart instantly picked up pace at Maan’s sudden proximity. She quickly forced herself to remain composed, offering a small, polite smile. "Hey," she replied softly, avoiding direct eye contact by fixing her gaze straight ahead at the reflective elevator doors.
Maan leaned against the elevator wall, his familiar cologne faintly filling the small space, unsettling Geet further. A heavy silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the soft hum of machinery.
After a long, awkward pause, Maan cleared his throat gently. "Busy day, wasn’t it?"
Geet nodded, not daring to look directly at him. "Yes, quite busy. And eventful, with your new secretary starting today," she said lightly, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though she silently cringed at how forced her casualness sounded.
Maan’s gaze briefly shifted toward her, noticing her carefully constructed indifference. His expression softened subtly. "Yes, Priyanka has good credentials. She’s… efficient."
Geet felt a pang of something sharp—jealousy, insecurity, or perhaps both—stabbing deep in her chest at his words. Efficient. Is that really all he sees in her?
She nodded slowly, forcing another tight smile. "Yes, I noticed. She seems to have impressed everyone already."
Maan studied her quietly for a moment, as if sensing the tension beneath her composed façade. He hesitated, clearly uncertain of what to say next, and eventually just nodded again. "Yeah."
The silence returned, heavier this time, carrying unsaid words and hidden feelings. Geet’s thoughts were swirling chaotically, questions and insecurities colliding painfully. Why couldn’t he have said more? Why couldn’t he acknowledge us—or at least give me some clarity? Her heart ached with frustration and longing.
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the lobby. The doors opened smoothly, breaking their tense silence.
Geet moved quickly, stepping out and hoping to put some distance between them. "Goodnight, Sir," she murmured quietly, intending to rush away.
But Maan’s voice stopped her immediately. "Geet."
She paused, turning back to face him cautiously. His expression remained unreadable, but something tender flickered briefly behind his guarded eyes.
"I… I appreciated yesterday," he said quietly, referring subtly to their date and the kiss, uncertainty evident in his voice. "It meant something."
Geet’s heart leaped painfully, confusion and hope colliding inside her chest. But before she could respond, a pair of red-soled heels clicked sharply across the lobby, echoing against polished marble floors.
"Maan!" Priyanka called, smiling warmly as she approached them, oblivious—or perhaps unconcerned—about interrupting their quiet moment. "Sorry, I forgot to ask—can I catch a ride home? My car hasn’t arrived yet."
Maan glanced apologetically toward Geet before nodding at Priyanka. "Of course. Let's go."
Maan answered with polite ease, nodding gently in agreement.
Then, turning quickly back to Geet, he began softly, uncertainly: “Geet, why don’t you—”
But his words fell short as he realized Geet had already turned and was swiftly walking toward the exit, head held low.
Maan’s mouth tightened subtly, disappointment flickering across his face before he concealed it behind his usual stoicism. Priyanka followed his gaze curiously, eyebrows arching thoughtfully before she turned back to him, her smile radiant and confident.
“Shall we?” she asked, her tone light yet deliberate.
Maan nodded slowly, casting one final lingering glance toward the doors Geet had passed through moments earlier, his expression unreadable but quietly conflicted.
Outside, Geet hurried away, heart heavy with uncertainty, fighting the bitter sting of tears.
He isn’t yours, Geet, she reminded herself firmly, each step taking her further from him. Maybe he never was.
As she walked away, each step heavy with disappointment, she heard Priyanka’s vibrant laughter echoing behind her, the sound painfully highlighting the gulf between their worlds. Geet clenched her fists lightly, her determination wavering yet again.
He isn’t yours, Geet, she reminded herself fiercely, fighting the sting of tears. And maybe he never will be.
As Geet walked out of the office, the lingering weight of Maan's gaze pressed softly against her back—but the sensation was fleeting, quickly replaced by the ache of inadequacy she'd felt since Priyanka's arrival. Each step toward the bus stop seemed heavier than the last, her mind replaying moments that had felt special but now seemed painfully ambiguous.
What do I even mean to him? she wondered quietly. The teasing smiles, stolen glances, the soft conversations—were they genuine, or merely part of his charismatic charm, the natural allure he extended effortlessly to everyone around him?
And then there’s Priyanka. A bitter pang struck her chest at the thought. How could I possibly compete with someone like that? She sighed deeply, feeling her confidence waver again as she boarded the crowded bus, sinking tiredly into a seat by the window.
The city passed by in a soft blur, the sky painted with hues of orange and purple as the sun dipped below the horizon. Geet leaned her head against the cool windowpane, eyes distant. No more daydreaming, she sternly reminded herself. Focus on your work. That’s why you’re here. You came to prove yourself—not to chase impossible dreams.
Yet, despite her best efforts, images of Priyanka’s bold confidence and Maan’s admiring smiles stubbornly resurfaced, deepening her frustration. Priyanka embodied everything Geet wasn’t—bold, glamorous, effortlessly captivating. Geet imagined how Maan must see her—poised, sophisticated, perfectly suited to his world—and felt her heart sink further.
Maybe it’s best I keep my distance, she thought bitterly, resignation slowly overtaking the fragile hope she'd nurtured.
When she finally reached home, she quietly dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter, the small apartment greeting her with familiar silence. Seeking solace, she instinctively moved toward the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for dinner. Cooking had always been her refuge—an act that grounded her amidst emotional storms, helping her reclaim her composure.
Chopping vegetables, stirring spices, and feeling the comforting rhythm of the routine slowly quieted the turmoil in her mind. She reminded herself again firmly: Keep your distance, Geet. Protect your heart.
Yet even as she repeated those words silently, she couldn't ignore the quiet ache in her chest or the lingering memory of Maan's eyes following her as she walked away.
+++
The next morning, Geet arrived at the office early, hoping the quiet solitude would help her clear her mind and restore some confidence. She took her seat, silently encouraging herself to stay focused and professional, despite the emotional whirlwind within her.
Her brief calm shattered the moment Priyanka sauntered into the office, bright and effortlessly cheerful. "Good morning, everyone!" Priyanka called out, her voice vibrant, immediately energizing the room. Colleagues eagerly greeted her back, captivated by her charisma. Geet felt a familiar knot tighten in her stomach as she offered a quiet, polite nod in Priyanka’s direction.
Moments later, Maan walked in, his presence instantly drawing all eyes toward him. Geet’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him approach Priyanka with easy familiarity. Their banter was effortless, tinged with an intimacy that stung deeply, making Geet feel more invisible than ever.
She swallowed hard, quickly turning her attention to her work, desperately trying to drown out the discomfort building within her.
During the mid-morning coffee break, Geet found herself among colleagues buzzing about Priyanka’s new role. “Did you guys hear?” Nisha said excitedly. “Priyanka is taking over management of some departments!”
Kavya’s eyes widened with awe. “Well, she’s Ivy League, after all. She’ll definitely make a difference.”
Geet forced herself to maintain a pleasant expression, though inside, her heart sank deeper. Of course, she's brilliant—just like she took over Maan's attention.
Just then, Priyanka walked past, laughing easily at something Maan had said, leaning closer as they shared a private joke. Geet felt a painful tightening in her chest, suddenly feeling small, ordinary, overshadowed by Priyanka’s effortless glamour and charm.
The rest of the day passed slowly, Geet diligently burying herself in work, fighting an uphill battle with her insecurities. By afternoon, she had documents that required Maan’s immediate attention. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked politely and entered his office, her posture professional and composed.
Maan looked up from his desk, expression subtly softening. “Geet,” he greeted warmly.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” she acknowledged politely, then turned respectfully toward Priyanka, who was perched casually on the edge of Maan’s desk. “Good afternoon, Priyanka.”
Priyanka’s brows rose slightly, a playful yet cutting smile forming on her lips. “It’s Priyanka Ma’am.”
Geet hesitated, a wave of embarrassment washing over her cheeks. “My apologies, Priyanka Ma’am,” she corrected herself softly.
Maan’s brow instantly furrowed in irritation at Priyanka’s unnecessary correction. Nobody in the office was ever addressed formally except for him—not even Sheetal, who’d always been senior and highly respected.
Attempting to defuse the awkward tension, Maan cleared his throat gently. “Geet, what did you need?”
“Just these documents for your review,” she replied professionally, handing them over, deliberately ignoring the flutter in her stomach as their fingers brushed lightly.
“Thank you,” Maan responded quietly, watching her carefully.
Geet nodded politely, maintaining her composure. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you, Geet,” Priyanka echoed sweetly, her smile overly bright, subtly signaling Geet’s presence as an intrusion rather than a necessity.
Geet felt another small, sharp sting at Priyanka’s subtle dig, but chose not to respond. With professional grace, she politely nodded and left, not overstaying or indulging in unnecessary small talk.
Once back at her desk, Geet’s heart ached softly, frustration mingling with sadness. She silently questioned herself again: Why does this feel like a losing battle? How long can I keep doing this to myself?
Determinedly, she refocused on her work, promising herself not to allow Priyanka’s presence to overshadow her achievements or diminish her confidence.
Yet, despite her firm resolve, the image of Maan’s easy camaraderie with Priyanka lingered stubbornly, casting a long, uncertain shadow over Geet’s fragile place in his life.
Edited by NilzStorywriter - 6 months ago
Udne Ki Aasha
Kumkum Bhagya
475