Something About Us- MG || (Part 51|Page 52) - Page 28

To deal with her grief, Geet has found an outlet in her modeling. It is something to bring her a calm.

Of course Priyanka will use the modeling to take digs at Geet. How much did Maan hear? At least he put a stop to it. But Priyanka is stubborn.

Part 24

Maan leaned against his desk, arms crossed, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he studied Geet. “I was surprised to see you back to modeling,” he said, his tone light but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

Geet, arms folded, shot him a sharp glance. “Your point is?” Her voice was curt, laced with annoyance. It was unlike her to respond this way, but she couldn’t help it. The sight of Priyanka’s easy charm and Maan’s interest in her had stirred a tumult of emotions within her.

Maan raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her tone. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just... different seeing you in that world again.”

Geet’s heart raced, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling just below the surface. **Mere saath itne din...** she thought, **I thought we had something.** She had been vulnerable with him, shared pieces of her life, and now he was treating her like just another girl from the office. The thought sent a wave of betrayal crashing over her.

“Why do you care?” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “You barely know anything about me outside of work.”

Maan, momentarily speechless, watched as the fire in her eyes flickered. **Where is this coming from?** he wondered. He had always seen her as more than just an employee, but he hadn't realized how much their interactions—or lack thereof—had affected her.

Geet took a breath, trying to rein in her emotions. She fought the urge to spill her heart out, to tell him how much his indifference stung. Instead, she held his gaze, her eyes reflecting anger and a sense of betrayal that she couldn’t voice.

Maan sensed the shift in the atmosphere, the tension thick between them. “Geet, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice softening. “I just... didn’t expect it.”

“Maybe you should expect it,” she replied, her tone cooler now. “I’m not just your little project. I have my own life, my own choices.”

The words hung in the air, a declaration that shifted the dynamic between them. Maan felt a surge of something—defensiveness, frustration—but beneath it all, a flicker of understanding. She was right; he had been too caught up in his own world to realize how she might feel.

“Is that what you think? That I see you as a project?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’m trying to understand you, Geet. You’re different from anyone I’ve met.”

“Different?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Or just another distraction for you? Is that why you can’t seem to take me seriously?”

Maan took a step closer, his eyes locked onto hers. “I do take you seriously. You’re talented, you’re... special. But I didn’t know how to handle it when you started…”

Geet scoffed, her heart racing. “You’re saying that now, but what about before? Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you were looking at Priyanka? She’s perfect, Maan. She fits your world better than I ever could.”

“Priyanka is just... Priyanka,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “She doesn’t have what you have. You bring something different to the table, Geet. Something real.”

Her heart softened for a fleeting moment, but anger flared again. “Real? So you’re saying I’m just a ‘project’ that you find interesting until something better comes along? Is that it?”

Maan opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know how to reassure her without sounding dismissive. “I don’t want you to think that,” he said finally, his tone earnest. “I see you for who you are, not just as a model or an employee. But I also don’t want to push you away.”

Geet’s expression softened briefly before she masked it again with annoyance. “I don’t need you to save me, Maan. I just wanted to feel like I mattered to you. But clearly, I don’t.”

The air in the cabin crackled with unresolved tension as Geet and Maan stood facing each other, their gazes locked in a battle of passion, anger, and betrayal. Each pulse of silence felt like an eternity, thickening the air between them.

Maan’s expression was a mix of frustration and longing, a storm of emotions swirling in his chest as he searched Geet’s eyes for understanding.

Geet’s own feelings were a whirlwind; she felt hurt and annoyed that he couldn’t see how deeply his words had cut her.

In that charged moment, they seemed to forget everything around them, their world narrowing to just the two of them.

Just then, the door swung open, and Priyanka stepped inside, her presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. With her curly hair cascading over her shoulders and her confident stride, she exuded a magnetic allure. Dressed impeccably in a tailored outfit that hugged her curves, she seemed to glow with self-assurance.

“Hey, Maan! I just finished reviewing those reports you asked for,” Priyanka said cheerfully, her voice cutting through the thick tension like a knife.

She glanced between Geet and Maan, noting their charged stares. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Geet broke eye contact first, feeling a pang of annoyance at the interruption, as if Priyanka’s arrival had severed the fragile thread connecting her to Maan.

She took a step back, trying to gather her composure, but the fire in her chest still burned bright.

Maan, still holding onto the tension from their previous confrontation, tried to regain his focus. “You’re not interrupting,” he replied, though the heat in his voice hinted at the underlying emotions.

He looked back at Geet, who was now avoiding his gaze, the flicker of pain in her expression hitting him harder than he expected.

Priyanka, sensing the weight of the moment, leaned against the desk with an easy smile, her confidence apparent. “So, what’s going on? You both look like you’ve just had a serious talk.” She tilted her head, trying to inject some levity into the situation. “Should I be worried?”

Geet felt her annoyance flare again, but she forced a smile, knowing she had to keep her composure in front of Priyanka. “Nothing you need to worry about, Priyanka, I am just informing Maan—sir—about my resignation. My modeling gig is going very well.”

Maan’s expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face. “Resignation?” he echoed, disbelief lacing his tone. He had been prepared to address the tension between them, not to hear that she was stepping away. “Geet, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she replied, her gaze steady, though a hint of vulnerability flickered beneath her resolve.

Geet took a deep breath, her determination hardening. “I don’t even want to serve a notice period. I’m fine with a pay cut if it means I can leave right away.”

Maan's eyes widened in disbelief. “Geet, you’re not really thinking this through. Just a few weeks more, and you could have a proper reference. It might help your career.”

“Help my career?” Geet laughed bitterly, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “You think staying here will do anything for me? I’m just a distraction to you now. Besides, you have Priyanka now. She’s the one who’ll fit in seamlessly.”

Maan's frustration grew. “That’s not true! You don’t see it, but I—”

“Enough!” Geet interrupted, her voice rising with emotion. “I’ve made up my mind. This isn’t just about the job; it’s about me realizing I deserve better. I deserve to be somewhere I’m valued.”

Priyanka stood quietly to the side, watching the emotional exchange unfold. She could sense the deep-seated feelings between them, but she also knew that this moment was critical for Geet.

“Listen, Geet,” Maan said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t want things to come to this. I thought—”

“What? That I’d wait around for you to notice me? I won’t,” Geet said, her eyes flashing with determination.

Silence.

Maan looked at her like he’d been punched in the ribs.

And Geet—

She just turned and left.

Leaving behind a silence he didn’t know how to fill.

Not yet.

Not this time.

+++

The door didn’t slam.

It closed with the softest click—so soft it could have been mistaken for mercy. But to Maan Singh Khurana, it sounded like finality.

She was gone.

He hadn’t said a word to stop her.

He hadn’t even stood up.

For a moment, the cabin held its breath. The desk, the chair, the city skyline beyond the glass—it all blurred, suspended in a heavy stillness that thickened around him.

Across the room, Priyanka stood near the edge of the desk, her eyes flickering toward him, her expression unreadable. She cleared her throat, gently.

“So...” she said, almost too casually. “That was—”

“Leave,” Maan said.

One word. Quiet. Sharp enough to slice air.

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t add another performative flick of her hair.

She simply turned, heels clicking softly as she exited, leaving Maan alone with the aftermath.

The silence stretched, wide and hollow.

He didn’t sit.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there, like the floor might give way if he breathed wrong.

Geet had just resigned.

Not threatened. Not flared up in emotional impulse.

She had looked him in the eye and walked away. Steady. Sure. Done.

And he hadn’t stopped her.

Maan dragged a hand across his face, slowly, like he could wipe away the heat gathering behind his eyes. He let out a breath—but it came out uneven. Unsettled.

He turned, slowly walking toward the window.

Outside, the city pulsed on, oblivious. Cars moved like ants on concrete arteries. People walked down below with coffee in hand, plans in mind.

Unaware that something—someone—had just left him.

He leaned both palms on the cool edge of the windowsill, eyes locked on nothing.

She’d said it with such finality.

“I was just informing Maan... sir... about my resignation.”

Not “I think I’m leaving.”
Not “We should talk.”
Not “Tell me to stay.”

No—she’d made her decision before stepping in.

She had already let go.

And Maan?
He had watched her go.

Watched her break open—quietly, bravely.
Watched her put herself back together without waiting for him to help.

She had let him kiss her once. Twice. Three times, if you counted the forehead. Each time, it was him reaching for her, and her letting him in.

But he had never said a word. Not one that mattered.

He’d thought silence was safety.

That restraint was care.

That by keeping her close—but not too close—he was protecting something fragile.

But what he hadn’t realized...

Was that she had stopped waiting.

She had moved on without drama. Without tears. Without begging him to notice.

And that—that was what gutted him.

He hadn’t lost her to anger.
He’d lost her to peace.

The kind of peace that comes after the storm has already passed, after you’ve already drowned and come back to the surface, deciding not to return to the shore that let you go.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the pulse throb behind his temple.

She hadn’t flinched.
Not when he told her she was special.
Not when he said he didn’t want to push her away.

Because she no longer wanted to be close enough to be pushed.

His fingers curled against the glass.

She had become fire—contained, controlled, but no less devastating.

And now that fire had walked out of his office, out of his life.

And all Maan Singh Khurana could do... was stand in the ashes of everything he didn’t say.

+++

The moment she stepped out of Maan’s cabin, the noise of the office returned in fragments—printers humming, a phone ringing distantly, the quiet buzz of low conversation.

But to Geet, it all sounded like static underwater.

Her chest felt oddly hollow, her limbs moving on their own as she walked down the corridor—half-aware of passing glances, fully aware of how each footstep carried weight she couldn’t quite describe.

The silence she had left in his cabin trailed behind her like smoke.
Not heavy. Not explosive.
Just the quiet that comes after something breaks.

When she reached her desk, she didn’t sit.

She simply stood there, blinking once, as if her brain was still catching up with what her mouth had just done.

Resigned.
She had said it like it was a fact. Not a rupture.

Her desk looked the same as it always had—neatly arranged, her penholder to the right, sticky notes still color-coded along the edge of the monitor. Her navy-blue file folder rested on top of a stack of weekly reports. A half-full water bottle sat beside her screen.

All normal.

All irrelevant now.

With a breath so shallow it barely counted, she began to pack.

First, the small things. The pen. The delicate bookmark she’d once used during late hours spent reviewing quarterly numbers. A yellow origami crane folded by Meera on one of those long evenings, when everyone was too tired to talk.

Her hands moved with practiced calm. Her heart did not.

Is this really happening?

She hadn’t planned it. Not like this.
She hadn’t sat at home the night before plotting her exit.

But something inside her had snapped. Or maybe not snapped—just given up. Quietly. Painfully. With the grace of someone too tired to fight for what shouldn’t require a war.

She had given Maan too many silences, too many glances, too many moments that hovered on the edge of confession and never got to speak.

And he had let them all pass.

She reached into the drawer for her mug—white ceramic with a quote that had faded over time: “Some women fear the fire. Others become it.” She traced a thumb across the chipped handle before placing it in her tote bag.

“Geet?”

The voice was gentle, tentative.

She turned.

Meera stood a few feet away, concern etched clearly across her brow. Beside her, Nisha clutched a planner, eyes wide. Kavya had paused her conversation near the printer and was already approaching, curiosity furrowing her features.

“What’s going on?” Meera asked, stepping closer. “Are you... is everything alright?”

Geet hesitated.

Then she nodded—once, twice, like she needed to convince herself first.

“I resigned,” she said softly.

The words felt strange leaving her lips. Not bitter. Not dramatic.

Just... final.

Nisha blinked. “Resigned?” she echoed. “As in—resigned resigned?”

Kavya tilted her head. “You mean you’re actually leaving? Like—now?”

Geet offered a small, tired smile. “Yes. Today’s my last day.”

A beat passed, heavy and stunned.

Even Raj looked up from his desk across the aisle, mouth slightly open. “Wait. You’re… leaving-leaving?”

Meera’s voice dropped. “But why? Did something happen?”

Geet shook her head. “Nothing happened. It’s just time. I want to focus on my modeling work. I’ve been getting some projects, and... it feels like the right moment.”

“You didn’t even tell us,” Nisha whispered. “You always said this job grounded you.”

“It did,” Geet replied. “It gave me space to breathe. It gave me all of you.”

“Did Maan sir say something?” Raj asked suddenly, too young to mask his curiosity. “I mean, he... he didn’t accept the resignation, right? He wouldn’t.”

All eyes turned to her.

Geet looked down at her hands, adjusting the strap of her tote, then up again.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

The silence that followed said enough.

A soft rustle of paper came from Sheetal’s desk. Geet turned to see her supervisor standing, arms crossed, gaze cool but not unkind.

“Are you sure about this?” Sheetal asked. “No drama, no pressure. Just a question.”

Geet met her eyes.

“I’m sure.”

Sheetal gave a slow nod. “Then good luck. For what it’s worth... you made your mark.”

Geet swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

She looked back at the others—at the people who had once felt like strangers and now looked like home.

“I’ll keep in touch,” she said quietly.

The words came like a promise. Not loud. Not bold. But true.

Meera stepped forward and hugged her, brief but warm. Nisha followed, sniffling. Kavya muttered something sarcastic about “unfair pretty people” and blinked away what looked suspiciously like mist.

And Geet—
She held her bag close, turned toward the elevator—

And walked away.

No tears.

No outburst.

Just the quiet sound of footsteps echoing down a hallway she hadn’t planned to leave behind so soon.

+++

The cabin was still warm with the heat of her absence.

The silence she left behind didn’t echo—it settled.

Heavy.

Personal.

Maan hadn’t moved since she’d closed the door. The seconds bled into minutes, and he still stood there, his eyes fixed on the space she’d occupied. The air felt stale, like something vital had just left the room, and nothing that remained could replace it.

It was only when he heard muffled voices—soft gasps, the hush of disbelief from the outer floor—that he turned toward the glass wall behind him.

His eyes found her immediately.

She stood at her desk, packing the last of her things with the kind of precision she usually reserved for presentations. Her hair was tied back today, sleek, practical—but a loose strand had escaped and curved along her cheek.

He stared at that single strand longer than he should have.

As if the detail would anchor him.

But it didn’t.

She moved in silence, dignified, graceful even in heartbreak. Maan’s heart thudded against his chest, slow but deliberate. His fists rested on the edge of his desk, knuckles white.

He had seen her cry once.

When she was kneeling behind a catering table, desperately trying to mask her pain as people mocked her for serving water instead of wine. She hadn’t sobbed. Hadn’t broken. But her eyes had burned, and her hands had trembled.

And he’d done nothing then.

Just like he was doing nothing now.

He watched as Meera hugged her. Nisha too. Kavya said something dry and awkward, and Geet smiled—faint, like smoke curling in the cold.

Then she adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder, turned toward the elevator, and began to walk.

He hadn’t meant to step forward, but he did.

Just one step, as if his body moved before his mind caught up.

She passed the cabin’s line of glass, still unaware he was watching.

Her face was tilted down slightly, her gaze fixed ahead. Her fingers were curled around her bag strap, too tightly. She didn’t look back. Not once.

She didn’t need to.

Because she knew he would be there.
Watching.
Too late.

Maan’s hand flexed at his side.

He wanted to go to her.
Say something.
Anything.

But the distance between them wasn’t just spatial now. It was weeks of unsaid things. Of avoided truths. Of her waiting—and him pretending not to know.

As the elevator doors opened, she stepped in.

She turned slightly, not enough to see him, but just enough that, for a moment, he could see her profile.

And then the doors slid shut.

Gone.

Maan didn’t move.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass.

The man who let her walk away.
The man who stood in silence when she needed a reason to stay.
The man who always had the right words—but never when they mattered most.

Behind him, the city buzzed on, indifferent.

And Maan Singh Khurana, for once, felt completely... irrelevant.

Geet did right what she felt but maan should have stopped her waiting for next update 💝

Hi.... sincere apologues

wrong thread

Part 24

Geet was clearly annoyed with Maan

Maan indeed did not expect that from Geet

oh she snapped at Maan

of cos all her frustration surfaced

Geet was clearly direct with Maan

well Maan opened up with Geet

she feels she is just a project to Maan

so she compared herself to Priyanka

liked that Maan assured her

however her confidence is at its low

this convo was necessary

Priyanka had to interrupt

upset that Maan said that she is not interrupting

Gosh Geet resigned

Maan was naturally shocked

angry that he did not even stop her!!

update soon

Hi, I wanted to comment on your story from long. couldn't write my feedback because of my schedule.

I love you're writing, you do make me feel like I'm in the story. I loved all the part.

This part is heart breaking! I thought they would talk. why Maan is holding back himself, he could have approached her in her week off. Firstly, he had relaised about him not expressing the feel he had, after their date night. Still he took long time! Now Geet got her modelling project, Happy for it. But they would be far away!

Thanks for updating regularly. ❤️

Beautiful update! Thanks again. I think Geet did the right thing. It’s hard to stay in a place and watch the man you have feelings for like another ( well we know he doesn’t). I’m more annoyed that Maan reprimands Priyanka by saying ‘enough’ but not more than that. She is being a bully and he is not doing more to stop her. I would leave for that reason. Poor Geet has already been bullied to over work by Priyanka, constantly belittled and now being mocked about her modelling. Maan seriously needs to be a way better boss.

Part 25

The office had never felt so still.

Not even during late nights or national holidays. Not like this.

The silence clung to the glass walls like fog, seeping into corners, heavy and unyielding. Somewhere outside, the city was alive—headlights weaving through dusk like fireflies caught in glass—but inside Maan Singh Khurana’s cabin, time had slowed to a crawl.

He hadn’t turned on the lights.

Didn’t need to.

The fading amber of the skyline filtered through the blinds, casting long, fractured shadows across the room. He sat there, back rigid against leather, staring at nothing, surrounded by everything he’d built—and suddenly unsure why.

The moment replayed like a cruel loop: Geet standing across from him, chin lifted, voice calm but sharp.

“I deserve to be somewhere I’m valued.”

She had said it with such clarity. Not bitterness. Not grief.

Finality.

And he'd let her walk out.

Not because he wanted her gone.

But because, somehow, he couldn’t find the words to make her stay.

He pressed a knuckle to his temple. His body was still. His mind? Anything but.

Where had he gone wrong?

Was it in the silence he’d mistaken for self-control?

Or in the way he’d let her believe she was just another cog in the machine?

He’d called himself logical. Brilliant. A master of strategy.

And yet the most important equation of his life—he hadn’t solved.

The cursor on his screen blinked in quiet mockery. His phone lay untouched on the desk. Her number was still there. But his fingers didn’t move.

What could he possibly say now?

"I'm sorry" sounded too small.

"Stay" sounded too late.

Instead, he stood. Slowly. Mechanically.

The office behind him blurred into soft shadow as he walked to the window, palms braced against the cold glass. The city blinked beneath him, tireless and loud. But he felt removed from it all, like he was standing behind a sheet of ice, pounding to be let back into a world that had moved on without him.

Geet hadn’t cried.

She hadn’t yelled.

She hadn’t begged.

She had simply… left.

And that’s what gutted him.

She didn’t leave because he hurt her.

She left because she’d finally stopped hoping he wouldn’t.

++++

The morning after Geet resigned, Maan walked into the office with the same practiced gait he had always carried.

To anyone watching, he was as composed as ever—clean lines, crisp cuffs, his jaw freshly shaven, his steps deliberate. He didn’t pause at reception, didn’t nod at the security guard who’d greeted him for years, didn’t even glance at the floor as he passed through the glass doors of his company.

But inside—his rhythm was off.

Almost imperceptibly. But it was there.

He walked past her desk, like he did every day. The one near the corner where she used to sit hunched forward slightly, shoulders pulled in, lips pressed in concentration. He’d memorized her posture without realizing it. And now the space felt... evacuated. Not just empty, but wiped.

Her chair was tucked in. Her files gone. The mug she'd kept with that faint feminist quote—gone. Even the little crane Meera had folded during a boring Monday morning meeting had vanished.

Her presence had always been quiet. Understated. Unobtrusive.

But now, in its absence, it roared.

He closed the door to his cabin and stood behind his desk for several long seconds. Didn’t sit. Didn’t touch anything.

Just stood.

The silence was heavier than it had any right to be.

He was used to quiet.

He preferred it.

But this wasn’t quiet.

This was emptiness.

And somehow—it had Geet’s name carved into it.

+++

By the second day, he’d tried convincing himself that this was for the best.

That she didn’t belong here anyway.

That Geet—sweet, sharp, endlessly stubborn Geet—was always meant to be elsewhere.

That maybe this place had never been hers to begin with.

She wasn’t like the others. Not born into it. Not bred for it. No legacy to protect, no pedigree to flash on her LinkedIn. No Ivy League background. No summer schools in Switzerland.

Just... grit. And that strange kind of strength that doesn’t ask for applause.

She was doing a few modest gigs now. Magazine shoots. Local brand campaigns.

Nothing groundbreaking. But enough to keep her going. Enough to distract herself.

That’s where she belongs, he told himself.

In soft lights. In the pages of someone’s campaign brochure. In a world that once spit her out, and now—barely—held the door open again.

But it didn’t land.

Because he had seen her in this world—his world. In morning meetings, where she tore apart forecasts with carefully annotated margins. In late nights where she worked until the printer jammed and her knuckles were ink-stained. In silence, when her head would tilt just slightly if a sentence didn’t make sense.

And he’d seen her in chaos.

In parties where people mocked her. In kitchens where she handed him glucose. In bars where he’d been too drunk to stand and she’d held him up with the sheer force of quiet determination.

She didn’t belong in someone else’s photoshoot.

She had belonged here.

But he hadn’t said that.

He hadn’t said anything at all.

+++

That night, the penthouse was dark.

He hadn’t turned on the lights in hours. The city skyline shimmered beyond the windows, all neon and speed, but Maan felt nothing for it.

He walked to the bar, poured himself a drink—not because he wanted one, but because it was easier than breathing.

The whiskey was his favorite. Aged. Rare. Chosen for its clarity and bite.

It tasted like ash.

He leaned against the cold glass of the window, staring out, watching the city blink like a lie someone kept telling him.

Somewhere in that mess of pixels, someone had tagged him in a business article. He opened it without caring. His finger scrolled out of habit more than interest.

And then he saw her.

Not by name. Not in headlines.

But in an image tucked into the bottom half of the spread—an ad for a small sustainable brand. She was in a white dress, hair down, standing barefoot on a washed-out shoreline.

Eyes distant.

Expression unreadable.

She wasn’t looking at the camera.

She wasn’t looking at him.

But he felt it.

God, he felt it.

Like a punch.

Like a door slamming somewhere he didn’t realize was still open.

She looked beautiful.

And hollow.

Just like he felt.

He downed the drink in one go and poured another.

+++

Next Day in the office-

“Maan? The vendor contract revisions are ready. Do you want me to go over them now or after your call with the Frankfurt team?”

Maan didn’t look up from his desk. “Later.”

“Alright,” Priyanka said smoothly, shifting her weight in the stilettos that clicked softly across the cabin. “You’ve been so serious lately.”

Silence.

“I mean, you’re always serious,” she added with a soft laugh, “but this is another level.”

Maan flipped to the next page in the file.

She hovered. Her perfume was sharp. A little too sweet.

“You know,” she said, voice dropping just slightly, “it’s kind of hot. That whole laser focus, brooding genius thing. I’m not surprised you scare people. You’re... intense.”

Maan’s pen stilled mid-signature.

He didn’t look at her.

“I don’t need another cheerleader,” he said.

The words came out low. Flat. Cold.

Priyanka blinked, caught off guard, then offered a small, polished smile. “Maybe you just need someone who isn’t afraid to challenge you, Maan.”

And there it was.

He looked up.

And saw nothing.

Not the woman who used to hand him reports with ink on her fingers.
Not the woman who silently challenged him yet inspired him.
Not the girl who kissed him once and then again—and never asked him to stay.

Geet hadn’t tried to prove herself.

She just had.

Priyanka played a role.

Geet had walked into the inner chambers of his being like she didn’t need permission.

And now she was gone.

Maan closed the file slowly. Buttoned his coat. Stood.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t give Priyanka a glance.

He simply walked out of his own cabin, out of the room, down the hall.

Like a man chasing silence.

Like a man walking into the absence he’d helped build.

+++

Setting: Maan's Office — Late Evening

The office was quiet—too quiet for a building that never truly slept.

The overhead lights had dimmed to their after-hours glow, casting long, tired shadows against the polished floor. Outside, the city throbbed with life, but inside the cabin, time seemed suspended in the soft golden halo of the desk lamp that pooled over Maan’s mahogany table.

Stacks of reports lay untouched beside him. Blueprints. Financial projections. Patent diagrams half-highlighted in yellow. The cursor on his screen blinked steadily, tauntingly, over a blank document.

Maan sat still, elbows braced on the armrests of his chair, pen loosely twirling between his fingers. The tip tapped against the desk in a slow, irregular rhythm—click... click... click.

His eyes were on the monitor, but he wasn’t seeing the numbers.

He wasn’t thinking about the Q3 investments or the market forecast for their new division.

He was thinking about the empty chair across from him.

The one she used to sit in.

It wasn’t just empty.

It was vacant.

Like her energy had been erased from the room. Like she’d taken something with her when she walked out—something he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw flexing.

“Focus, Maan. Just finish this project. You don’t need her here to be productive.”

He said it out loud. Low. Gritted.

But the moment the words left his mouth, they rang false.

His eyes flicked to the chair again, involuntarily.
He could almost see her there—eyes narrowed, one brow raised as she picked apart a proposal, quiet fire in her tone.
He could hear her snort at his sarcasm.
The way she used to interrupt his spiraling with a one-word retort.

“Sir?”
No reverence.
Just challenge.

His grip on the pen tightened.

“It’s just a distraction,” he muttered. “That’s all it ever was.”

But even he didn’t believe it.

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. Behind his lids, her laughter surfaced—unfiltered, unexpected, that rare moment from the baraat night when she had thrown her head back and laughed without restraint.

It had struck him then. That she could do that—carry so much in silence and still laugh like the world hadn’t hurt her.

And now she was gone.

He opened his eyes.

The screen was still blank.

Maan inhaled sharply and started typing, words tumbling out with uncharacteristic roughness. But halfway through the sentence, he froze.

He deleted it all.

The cursor blinked again.

Mocking him.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pushing back from the desk.

He stood too quickly, the chair rolling behind him with a soft creak. His feet carried him across the cabin in slow, deliberate strides, until he reached the window.

The city sprawled beneath him—an endless glittering web of ambition, money, power.

All of it at his feet.

And none of it enough.

He pressed one palm flat against the glass, gaze locked on nothing in particular. Cars crawled like ants along the expressway. Tower lights blinked red and white in rotation. A helicopter buzzed somewhere in the distance.

But none of it touched the hollowness inside him.

She’s gone. It’s over. I have a company to run.

He repeated it like a mantra.

But all it did was echo against the wall she used to sit behind.

All it did was remind him that she hadn’t just left the company.

She’d left him behind in it.

+++

Day 4 Setting: Maan’s Office — Late Evening

The lights were low again.

A dim amber hue glowed from the desk lamp, casting long shadows across the cluttered surface of Maan’s once-pristine workspace. Papers spilled over the edge in unruly stacks—half-signed contracts, drafts of upcoming proposals, graphs with margin notes he hadn’t revisited. A cold laptop blinked in standby mode. Two whiskey glasses—one stained, one still full—sat side by side like silent witnesses.

The silence in the office wasn’t peaceful.

It was heavy. Tense. Disappointed.

Maan leaned back in his chair, his jaw tense, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The top button of his shirt had been abandoned hours ago. He swirled the glass in his hand slowly, watching the liquid catch the light—deep amber, almost gold. It shimmered like something sacred.

But it tasted like regret.

Across the room, Priyanka sat with one leg crossed over the other, her phone in hand, her body language casual. She was giggling at something on her screen, head tilted, her curls bouncing with every small laugh. Her blazer was draped lazily over the back of her chair, exposing the sleek silk blouse beneath it.

Maan’s gaze drifted toward her—sharp, tired, weighted.

“How can she be so carefree?” he muttered under his breath, voice rough.
“Doesn’t she care about her work?”

The screen in front of him remained empty.

He hadn’t touched the quarterly review in over an hour.

And all he could think about—was Geet.

Flashback

It was this exact hour. Late. Quiet. Just the two of them.

Geet had stood on the other side of his desk, arms folded, a pen tucked behind her ear, strands of her hair falling loose from her bun. The sleeves of her cardigan were rolled up unevenly, and her eyes—God, those eyes—burned with something electric.

“Sir,” she said, pushing the laptop screen toward him, “what if we approached it like this? I read about a model that could realign the user feedback loop. If we adjust the segmentation here...” Her finger traced the graph.

He hadn’t even glanced at the proposal.

He had watched her.

Because she looked alive.

She wasn’t there to impress.
She was there to build something.

And now? He was stuck watching someone scroll through Instagram during deadline hour.

Great update wonderful simply amazing maan is missing geet s too much Waiting for next update ❤️ 🔥