Riya/Ariya FF: Aakhri Umeed {A/N on p.1 | Update 14} - Page 5

Part 10

The ETF office was quieter than usual that afternoon, the rhythmic clatter of keyboards and the low murmur of occasional conversations serving as a steady backdrop. Outside the glass windows, the golden light of the late afternoon sun slanted across the skyline, painting the city with a warmth that Riya barely registered.

She sat at her desk, a case file open in front of her, but her eyes weren’t focused on the words. Her gaze was fixed absently on the edge of the page, her fingers lightly tracing the corner, as though she were trying to steady herself through the simple, repetitive motion.

Her mind was still tangled in the aftershocks of the previous night—the raw, stripped-down vulnerability she had let slip in front of Arjun.

The darkness she had always hidden away.
The weight she had always carried alone.
And the way he had simply… held her.
Without judgment.
Without asking her to be strong.
Just holding her.

“Tum theek ho…”
His voice still echoed in her mind—soft and steady, anchoring her even now.

She exhaled shakily and shifted slightly in her chair, pushing the memories aside.

But the tension lingered.

***

Across the room, Shree’s gaze flickered toward her for what must have been the twentieth time in the last hour. His fingers stilled on the keyboard, and his lips pressed together faintly.

He knew.
Chotu knew.
Sameer sir knew.
They all knew.

But they didn’t ask.
They didn’t push.

And somehow, that made her throat tighten more.

“Riya…”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Shree’s voice. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, her fingers stilling over the page she had been absently tracing.

Shree offered her a small, hesitant smile, but there was a warmth in his eyes—a gentleness that made her chest ache faintly.

“Coffee?” he asked softly, his voice low and careful, as though afraid of shattering her.
“Maine naye flavor ka packet laaya hai… mocha caramel.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him.
And then, without warning, her lips twitched faintly.

“Mocha caramel?” she repeated softly, her voice hoarse with disuse.
“Shree… yeh combination kisne banaya?”

His eyes brightened slightly at her teasing tone, and he smirked faintly, tilting his head.
“Jisne bhi banaya… usse medal milna chahiye.”

Riya let out a faint, breathless laugh. It was small—a quiet, hesitant sound—but it was real.

And Shree’s heart squeezed faintly at the sound.

“Toh chalein?” he prompted softly, gesturing toward the pantry.
“Tumhari favorite coffee ready hai, Madam Riya Mukherjee.”

Her lips curved faintly, and she slowly rose from her chair.

She felt Chotu’s eyes on her as she walked across the room, the warmth of his silent gaze offering quiet reassurance.
And from behind the glass door of his cabin, Sameer’s sharp eyes softened slightly.

But it was Arjun she felt the most.

As she walked past him, she didn’t need to look at him to know his eyes were following her.
Steady.
Protective.
Silent.

***

The pantry was dimly lit, but warm. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, curling around the room.

Riya sat at the small table, her hands loosely curled around the warm ceramic mug. She stared at the steam rising from the surface of the coffee, watching it dissipate into the stillness.

Shree sat across from her, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his cup, occasionally glancing at her from beneath his lashes.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

And then, without warning, Riya exhaled shakily and whispered, “Thank you.”

Her voice was hoarse—barely above a murmur—but thick with sincerity.

Shree stilled.
His eyes lifted to hers, and he blinked slowly.

She didn’t look at him.
Her gaze was still fixed on her coffee, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug.

“Pichle kuch dinon se tum log…” her voice caught slightly, and she exhaled softly before continuing, “… mere saath ho.”

Her throat bobbed faintly.
Her voice grew smaller.
“Bina kuch pooche… bina kuch kahe.”

Her eyes burned faintly, but she smiled weakly.

“Main nahi jaanti ki main bina tumhare kya karti.”

Shree’s throat tightened faintly.

For a moment, he said nothing.
And then, slowly, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

“Riya…” his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Tere bina hum kya karte?”

Her breath caught violently in her throat.
And the next thing she knew, her hand was trembling beneath his.

Shree didn’t pull away.
He simply held on.
Quietly. Steadily.

And Riya clung to his hand like a lifeline.

***

That evening, the sun had dipped lower, casting long, copper-toned shadows across the ETF corridor.

Riya stood by the window, her arms loosely wrapped around herself, watching the sky darken.

Sameer found her there.

He didn’t say anything at first.
He simply stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the same darkening sky.

And then, without preamble, he murmured softly, “Kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki bas… thak gaye hain, hai na?”

Her breath hitched slightly.
Her fingers clenched faintly against her sleeves.

And then, after a moment, she nodded.

She exhaled softly.
Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied, “Haan, sir… bohot thak gayi hoon.”

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Sameer turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing faintly as he studied her.

And then, slowly, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.
Firm. Steady. Unyielding.

“Riya…” his voice was low but deliberate, filled with quiet conviction.
“Tum kamzor nahi ho.”

Her throat tightened violently, but she didn’t speak.

“Tumhare andar bohot taqat hai,” he continued softly, his grip tightening slightly on her shoulder.
“Aur jab tak hum hain… tumhe kabhi akele ladne ki zaroorat nahi padegi.”

Her lips parted faintly.
Her vision blurred slightly.

And before she could stop herself, she turned to him.
Her arms wound around him, gripping the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, she just held on.

And Sameer didn’t hesitate.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Strong. Protective. Unwavering.

“Tum theek ho, Riya,” he murmured softly, his voice steady against her temple.
“Tum hum sab ke saath ho. Hamesha.”

And for the first time in years, she allowed herself to believe it.

Shree the ever dependent friend..who always gives he the mojo of safety

Arj and sam will also give her strength

The etf team is fam ..one for all .all for one

Awesome

Love it

Continue soon

It's amazing & heart warming 🩷

It's amazing & heart warming 🩷

Going nice 🤍

lovely updates!

I so relate to all the sleeping man. I have slept for 3 days straight whenever i am mentally exhausted

Anyway, love the way Arjun and the others are supporting her. You know what I like best? that they are silent when she needs it and comforting when need be. that they are just there for her without any questions, any assumptions nothing, just genuine care and love

Part 11

The ETF office was nearly empty by the time Riya returned to her desk. The once-vibrant hum of activity had quieted to a low murmur, leaving only the faint clatter of a few keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. The overhead lights had dimmed slightly, casting the space in a soft amber glow.

Riya sat down slowly, her limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion. She let out a long, shaky breath and rubbed her temples, willing the dull throb in her head to subside.

Her eyes flickered toward Shree’s empty chair, then to Chotu’s, and finally to Sameer’s cabin. They were all gone—left with quiet glances and reassuring smiles, giving her the space she needed but making sure she knew they were only a call away.

And Arjun…
She could still feel him.

She glanced toward his cabin, only to find the door slightly ajar. The light was off, but she knew he was still there.

Somehow, she always knew.

Her fingers traced the edge of the file in front of her, but she couldn’t concentrate.
The room was too quiet.
The shadows too long.

And the silence too loud.

“Bas kaafi hai, Riya,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head slightly. “Tu theek hai… tu theek hai…”

But the tremor in her hands betrayed her.
Her eyes stung again.
Her chest tightened.

Her breaths grew shallow.

“Not again… please not again…” she whispered brokenly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

She had been doing so well.
She had smiled today.
She had laughed with Shree.
She had clung to Sameer sir’s unwavering strength.

But now—alone in the quiet—she felt it creeping in again.

The suffocating weight.
The crushing ache.
The sharp-edged panic crawling beneath her skin.

Her hands fumbled with the drawer, pulling it open roughly.
Her trembling fingers reached for the strip of anxiety medication she kept hidden there—the one she barely used but couldn’t throw away.

Her hands were shaking too violently to break the foil.

And then she heard him.

“Riya.”

Her head snapped up.
Her chest constricted violently.

He was standing by the glass wall of his cabin, half-shrouded in the shadows. His voice was low, steady, but laced with something raw and piercing.

Her breath caught.

She opened her mouth to speak—to tell him she was fine—but no sound came out.

He started walking toward her.
Slow. Unhurried.
But deliberate.

She gripped the edge of the drawer harder, her knuckles white from the strain.

She wanted to look away.
To hide.
To run.

But she couldn’t.

Because he was already there.
Too close.
Too real.
Too much.

He crouched beside her chair, his hands resting lightly on the armrests, framing her without touching her.
He didn’t reach for her trembling hands.
He didn’t pull the medication from her grip.

He just knelt there.
Still.
Quiet.
Unmoving.

And he waited.

“Bas…” his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Dekho meri taraf.”

Her hands were still shaking.
Her breath was still uneven.
Her heart still racing.

But she slowly lifted her eyes.

And when her eyes met his, the storm inside her chest cracked wide open.

Because there, in his gaze, she saw it.
The silent promise.
The unwavering strength.
The raw, bone-deep understanding that no one else had ever shown her.

His voice softened further, barely a murmur.
“Riya… bas saans lo.”

Her eyes stung violently.

“Mujhe dekho…” his voice dropped even lower.
“Bas… mere saath saans lo.”

And somehow, she did.

She drew in a slow, trembling breath.
And he matched it.
Perfectly.

She exhaled shakily.
And he let his breath out softly, in perfect rhythm with hers.

Again.
And again.

Until her hands stopped shaking.
Until her chest stopped caving in.
Until she could breathe again.

***

For several moments, neither of them spoke.

She sat there, still gripping the drawer slightly, her breathing finally steady, her hands slowly loosening.
He remained crouched beside her, unmoving, his dark eyes never once leaving hers.

And then, slowly—without a word—he reached forward.

His fingers brushed over hers.
Not taking.
Just covering.
Steady. Firm. Unyielding.

And without even realizing it, she let go of the pill strip.

Her fingers unfurled slowly, trembling slightly against his palm.
And he just held them.
Gently.

The warmth of his touch seeped into her skin, chasing away the cold that had been clinging to her bones for far too long.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke.
Neither of them moved.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, she whispered brokenly, “Arjun…”

Her voice was so raw—so hoarse with barely suppressed emotion—that it cracked violently against her throat.

His grip on her hand tightened.
Not painfully.
Just firm enough to keep her tethered.

And then he murmured softly, “Main yahin hoon.”

Her throat bobbed faintly, and her eyes filled again.

But she didn’t look away.
She didn’t hide.

Because for the first time in a long time… she didn’t have to.

***

At some point, he had drawn her into his arms.
She wasn’t sure when.
And she didn’t care.

Her arms were curled tightly around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder.

She wasn’t sobbing.
She wasn’t breaking.

She was simply holding on.
Clinging to him.
Anchoring herself to the only steady thing she could trust.

And Arjun didn’t let go.

One of his hands splayed against her back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her shirt.
The other gently cradled the back of her head, his thumb softly stroking the edge of her temple.

His breathing was slow and steady, his warmth seeping into her trembling body.

And he didn’t say a word.
He didn’t have to.

Because he was there.
Solid. Unyielding. Unmoving.

And for once… she wasn’t afraid to lean into him.

***

Hours later, Riya sat in the passenger seat of Arjun’s SUV, her gaze fixed out the window as the city lights blurred softly in the distance.

The air between them was quiet, but not heavy.
Soft. Warm.

She turned slightly, watching his profile as he drove.
The sharp angle of his jaw.
The faint furrow between his brows.
The slight tension in his grip on the steering wheel.

And her chest ached faintly.

Not from pain.
But from the unfamiliar, quiet tenderness that filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.

And before she could stop herself, she whispered softly, “Thank you.”

Arjun’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, and he exhaled quietly.

But he didn’t say anything.
He simply reached across the console.
And he took her hand.

He didn’t look at her.
He didn’t need to.

His fingers just curled around hers, strong and steady.
Grounding her.
Holding her.

And she squeezed back.

For the first time in years, she felt it.
The warmth.
The safety.
The hope.

And she knew—deep in her fractured, healing heart—that she was no longer alone.

between this and other story my anxiety and hopelessness and awe at writing is at all time high

her heart knows shes not alone but its a tough thing to admit, her head needs to catch up. arjun doing commendable job looking after her but there is a point in life people needs to be happy with their self. riya needs to feel happy in loneliness without anyone, even arjun. if shes at peace in private she wuld come out of this

Nice update

Love it

Continue soon

Originally posted by: Phir_Mohabbat

between this and other story my anxiety and hopelessness and awe at writing is at all time high

her heart knows shes not alone but its a tough thing to admit, her head needs to catch up. arjun doing commendable job looking after her but there is a point in life people needs to be happy with their self. riya needs to feel happy in loneliness without anyone, even arjun. if shes at peace in private she wuld come out of this

I agree , arj is of great support but until u are happy being with your lone self then the process of healing starts