Page 47 of Cherish my Heart

She’s gone red—cheeks flushed, hand flying up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze stays fixed on Harsh. Not once does it flick to me.

“He’s just so... robotic always,” she says, laughing under her breath. “So it was funny hearing how he used to read comics and obsess over superheroes. I just—I couldn’t imagine it.” The corner of her mouth quirks up.

“I’ll get back to work, sir,” she says, her tone neutral now. She sits back at her desk, fingers already flying across the keyboard like I never walked in. Like I don’t exist. Like I’m just some man she reports to. It hits me in the chest. Not like a punch. Like aslow squeeze that starts behind my ribs and tightens. A feeling I don’t know how to name.

Harsh breezes past her like he doesn’t notice the shift—like he isn’t the reason for the damn ache forming behind my eyes. He strolls into my office and drops onto the couch like it’s his.

I follow him in, shutting the door behind me.

“That was awkward,” he comments, raising a brow. “What did you do?”

I don’t answer right away. I walk to the window instead, my hand still clenched by my side. The skyline looks blurred, like Mumbai itself is watching and judging me.

“I don’t know.”

He hums thoughtfully. “But it clearly affects you.”

“Yes,” I say quietly.

“Dude.” His voice is sharp now. I glance over to see him sitting up, that ridiculous metal prosthetic hand of his resting across his knee. He reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You like her?”

I don’t hesitate. Just one nod.

The silence stretches.

Then he lets out a low whistle and chuckles. “I never thought I’d hear this good news in this lifetime. Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.”

I sit next to him. “I didn’t even realize I liked her until she stopped talking to me.”

It sounds pathetic when I say it aloud. And more ridiculous because I admit it in front of him. But it’s true. It wasn’t the fights or the banter. It was the stillness after. The way the world feels duller when she stops filling it with her voice.

“Or maybe…” I pause, trying to find the thread I lost months ago. “Maybe I’ve always liked her. I just didn’t know what it was. She’s—”

I close my eyes.

“She’s infuriating. Smart. Too smart sometimes. She looks like she has everything figured out but carries this restlessness in her like it’s stitched into her bones. Like she’s always waiting for someone to tell her she’s allowed to dream again. She doesn’t chase attention, but somehow the whole damn room revolves around her when she speaks. And it’s not just how she looks. It’s how she listens. How she makes space for everyone, even when no one does it for her.”

When I look at him, Harsh is staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“Wow,” he breathes aloud. “You’ve really lost your sanity for this girl.”

I huff a dry laugh. “I didn’t think I could.”

“I didn’t think you would,” he teases, bumping his shoulder against mine. “So what now? Gonna write her poetry?”

I shoot him a look.

He throws up his hands. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop. Damn. But you should talk to her.”

“She won’t even look at me.”

“You deserve it. You probably did something dumb.”

“I probably did,” I mutter, rubbing my thumb against my wrist. I wish she would just tell me. She’s not doing anything wrong, so there’s nothing I can call her out on. What will I say? Why are you being a professional? It’s all because of the damn intern party. I was not even there, but I did something to piss her off.