"Did you really think I'd never find you?"

The voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

Six years of anger. Six years of heartbreak. Six years of obsession.

All of it lived inside those words.

And all of it was aimed directly at her.

Khushi's knees hit the polished floor as papers scattered around her.

Financial reports. Quarterly forecasts.

Numbers she suddenly couldn't see.

Because the man sitting at the head of the boardroom table wasn't supposed to be here.

Not in this city. Not in this company. Not in her life. Not anymore.

Her fingers shook as she gathered the papers.

Every gaze in the room burned against her skin.

Every second felt endless.

"If you're done staring, Ms. Sharma..."

The deep voice cut through the silence.

Khushi froze.

"...shall we continue?"

Slowly, she looked up.

Arnav Raizada sat at the head of the conference table. Powerful. Untouchable.

Exactly the way the business magazines described him.

Only they never mentioned how cold his eyes could become.

"I apologize."

The words barely escaped her lips.

Professional. Safe. Distant.

Anything but the truth.

"Mr. Raizada," her manager rushed to explain, stepping forward nervously. "Khushi handles our financial reporting."

A strained smile.

An attempt to ease the tension.

"She's one of our best employees."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Arnav leaned back slightly.

His gaze never left Khushi.

Not for a second.

"Is she?"

A pause. A faint smile. One that never reached his eyes.

"Interesting."

The humiliation hit harder than she expected.

Not because of the words.

Because of who they came from.

Once upon a time, that same man used to look at her as though she was the center of his world.

Now he looked at her like she was a stranger.

Or worse. A disappointment.

"We'll leave you two to review the reports."

The manager laughed nervously.

Nobody else laughed.

Chairs scraped across the floor. Files closed. People hurried toward the exit. One by one. Until only two remained.

The door clicked shut.

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating. Dangerous.

Khushi stared at the folder in her hands. Anywhere except him.

Because looking at him hurt. Because six years hadn't been enough.

Because seeing him again felt like reopening a wound that had never truly healed.

Then she heard movement. Slow. Deliberate.

The sound of expensive shoes against polished marble.

Her heartbeat immediately betrayed her.

No.

Please don't come closer.

But he did.

"Ms. Sharma."

His voice was quieter now.

Closer. Much closer.

Khushi lifted her eyes.

And immediately regretted it.

He was standing right in front of her.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to remember.

Close enough to destroy every wall she had spent six years building.

"You look well."

For a second she couldn't answer.

Because he didn't.

Not really.

He looked successful. Powerful. Untouchable. But not well.

There was something broken behind those eyes.

Something darker. Something colder.

The price of six years.

"So do you."

The lie tasted bitter.

A cold smile appeared on his face.

"Money does solve most problems."

The words landed exactly where he intended.

Like a knife. Slow. Precise. Cruel.

Understanding flashed across her face.

This wasn't a reunion. This wasn't closure. This was punishment.

"Arnav..."

The name escaped before she could stop it.

For one impossible second something flickered in his eyes.

Then vanished. Gone. Replaced by ice.

"Mr. Raizada."

The correction hurt more than it should have.

More than it had any right to.

"...Mr. Raizada."

Khushi forced the words out.

Even though every syllable felt wrong.

Arnav stepped closer.

The distance between them disappeared.

The air itself seemed to tighten.

"I expected better."

Khushi's throat closed.

Something about the way he said it felt worse than anger. Worse than hatred. It sounded like disappointment.

Then he delivered the final blow.

"I thought you'd be living off some rich man's fortune by now."

The world stopped. The room disappeared. The city lights beyond the glass vanished.

All that remained was the man standing in front of her. And the realization that after six years... He still believed the worst of her.

And somehow...

That hurt more than losing him ever had.