Page 52 of Cherish my Heart

I don’t stop her.

Even though my body aches to follow, to reach for her again—I stay rooted to the spot. Because whatever this is between us, whatever I thought we were building… I’ve clearly only made it worse.

She disappears into the crowd, that blue dress vanishing like smoke, and I’m left standing alone in the middle of the ballroom—a man surrounded by music, laughter, and everything that now feels far out of reach.

And this time, I don’t even have her sarcasm to hold onto.

CHAPTER 28

ADITI

My feet haven’t touched the ground since I came home. Not literally, of course—I’ve been pacing across the length of my bedroom like a wind-up toy that doesn’t know how to stop. The carpet under my bare feet is warm and worn, the only thing anchoring me to the present moment.

My phone rests against a pile of scattered cushions, angled toward my face, where Kajal’s laughing eyes stare back at me through the screen. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, a mound of half-folded laundry beside her, a pastel kurta draped over her shoulder like she doesn’t even realize it’s still hanging there.

“I’m screwed,” I declare, for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “Dude. Tell me what he meant by ‘It’s getting difficult not knowing where I stand with you’. Like—what does that even mean? What does he even mean?”

Kajal snorts, tossing a sock behind her. “It means what it sounds like.”

“Which is?” I press. My arms are crossed now, more to keep them from flailing than anything else.

“That he feels something for you, obviously,” she says, like it’s the most casual fact in the world.

I stop pacing just long enough to shoot her a flat, pointed look.

“What?” Kajal raises both eyebrows, her mouth quirking into a barely contained grin. “He obviously knows where he stands professionally. I hope so, at least.”

I groan and flop down on my bed, face-first into the blanket. My voice is muffled when I speak. “Why are you making a big deal out of it?”

There’s a rustling sound through the call as she folds another t-shirt. “Because you won’t. You’re overthinking everything instead of just asking him if he likes you. Simple.”

I lift my head and glare at her—for what is likely the hundredth time this evening. “You know you’re not being helpful.”

She smiles sweetly, unfazed. “See, eventually you’re going to have to accept the fact that you like your boss. Which, by the way, is your favorite trope, isn’t it? Workplace romance?”

I sit up straight, horrified. “Wow, Kajal. Way to be subtle.”

She shrugs. “Am I lying, though?”

“No,” I mutter, pulling my knees up to my chest. My voice drops without meaning to. “But he’s so… old.”

Kajal gasps like I’ve insulted the holy grail. “And? Old men are hot, bro. We all know that. Plus, he’s not even that old. Just—what? Eight years older than you?”

“Exactly.” I say, even I don’t believe the complaints I am making. “I don’t want another man walking in my life and takingaway the credit for my work,” I add. I know technically it’s not Bhai and Aarav’s fault; it’s the society that thinks women can’t do anything good on their own, but still I absolutely hate that everything always becomes about them, like the time when I organized a fashion show. It was just a time pass, honestly, but still there was not one headline that noticed me; it was all about Aarav Malhotra or Rudraksh Malhotra. I sigh.

“He doesn’t sound like a credit stealer, babe.” She states.

She’s right. “He is not. He gives me credit everywhere—in front of clients and investors, even when he doesn’t need to. I think that’s actually one of the main reasons why people assume I’m sleeping with him.”

“When did you start caring what people think?” Kajal’s voice softens, her teasing fading just enough to leave room for something real. “Aditi, are you finding reasons to avoid him?”

“No!” I sit up straighter, defensive. “God, why does everyone think I’m avoiding him?”

“Because you are.”

Her answer is instant, unflinching. And it's true.

I rest my chin on my knees. The silence stretches long between us, but it’s not awkward. It’s knowing. Heavy. Like she can hear the weight of my heart trying to make sense of the mess inside it.