Page 51 of Cherish my Heart

Her gaze is careful, like she’s afraid too much eye contact will say things she doesn’t want to hear.

But I’m done tiptoeing.

“What did I do?” I ask, my voice low, nearly lost in the music.

She blinks, startled, like I pulled her out of a trance. “What?”

“Don’t do that.” I tighten my hold just a little. “Don’t act surprised.”

“I’m not—” she starts, then stops. Her throat moves with a swallow. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t lie.”

Her lips press together, the soft pink of her lipstick catching the chandelier light.

“Did I say something?” I ask again, gentler this time. “Or… not say something I should’ve?”

Her lashes lift, finally meeting my eyes. “No, sir.”

The way she says it—formal, distant, like we’re at work and she’s giving a presentation instead of standing an inch from me—it knocks the wind out of me.

My jaw tightens. “It’s Abhimaan for you. You know that.”

She inhales sharply. “It’s not, actually.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re my boss.”

“Since when did that matter to you?”

She doesn’t respond. Her fingers flex slightly in mine.

“You used to call me names,” I murmur. “Mock me when I gave you extra tasks. Roll your eyes behind my back like I wouldn’t notice.”

“I still do,” she mutters.

I smile—a bitter, hollow curve. “No, you don’t. You’ve gone quiet. You barely look at me in meetings. You haven’t sent a single snarky message this week.”

“Maybe I grew up.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Aditi.”

She flinches, just a little, and I immediately regret the edge in my voice.

I let out a breath. “Stop avoiding me. Please.”

Her eyes finally lift again—big, dark, and tired. Like she’s been holding up a dam for days. “It’s getting difficult,” I add quietly, barely above a whisper. “Not knowing where I stand with you.”

There. I’ve said it. The thing that’s been clawing at my chest since the morning she started being polite. Since the teasing stopped. Since her silence became louder than her laughter.

Something flickers in her eyes. Recognition. Guilt, maybe. Something softer.

And for a heartbeat, I think she might say something. Reach out. Close that stupid distance she’s built between us.

But instead, she pulls back.

Her hand slips from mine, slow and reluctant. She steps out of my hold, not looking up as she says, “I need to go.”