He said he no longer cared yet Arnav Singh Raizada had spent the last ten minutes watching her.

From inside his glass cabin, he could see almost the entire office floor. Most of the employees had already left. Rows of empty desks stretched beneath the cold blue lights, with only a few forgotten monitors still glowing in the darkness.

And there she was.

Khushi Sharma.

Standing at her desk, gathering her files as if her life depended on leaving the building at exactly six.

Arnav’s eyes followed every hurried movement. The way she stacked the documents. The way she checked the time. The way she quickly reached for her bag.

His hand remained still beside the empty coffee cup on his desk. A faint trace of cinnamon rested at the bottom.

Six years. Six years had passed, and she still remembered exactly how he liked his coffee. Arnav’s jaw tightened. One simple cup of coffee had managed to disturb the certainty he had built over all these years.

She had never loved him. She had wanted his money. She had destroyed their child without hesitation and walked away from him without looking back. Those were the facts.

Then why did she remember the cinnamon?

Outside his cabin, Khushi glanced at the clock again.

Six o’clock.

Her hands moved faster.

It’s already six. I need to leave now.

Aarav’s school van would have dropped him home by now. Preeto would be with him, but Khushi knew her son. He would be sitting near the door, listening for every sound in the corridor and asking every few minutes when his mother was coming back.

Khushi closed the last file and rubbed two fingers against her aching temple.

The entire day had felt endless.

Every order from Arnav had been unnecessarily difficult. Every task had been given with that cold expression, as though he was waiting for her to fail.

She smoothed back the loose strand of hair near her face and looked at the document in her hand. Only one thing remained.

His signature. Her eyes moved toward the glass cabin across the floor.

Arnav sat beneath the warm light of his desk lamp, focused on his laptop. At least, he appeared to be.

Khushi tightened her grip on her bag.

Please let him be in a good mood.

The thought was so ridiculous that she nearly laughed. Arnav Singh Raizada and a good mood rarely belonged in the same sentence. Especially when she was involved.

Inside the cabin, Arnav watched her approach. The moment she looked in his direction, he dropped his gaze to the laptop and placed his fingers over the keyboard.

He didn’t type a single word. His jaw hardened as she came closer.She always did this. Always looked for the first opportunity to leave.

She always wants to run away from me.

The thought arrived before he could stop it. His fingers curled slightly beside the coffee cup.

Six years ago, she had run away after tearing his entire world apart. Today, she was doing it again.

Khushi reached the glass cabin and lifted her hand toward the door. Her fingers hovered an inch away from the handle.

Through the glass, she could see Arnav staring at his laptop with the intensity of a man negotiating a billion-dollar deal. Khushi rolled her eyes slightly.

The whole office has gone home, but this idiot still refuses to leave.

She immediately corrected herself. He was no longer her Arnav. He was her employer.

A difficult, arrogant, impossible employer.

She knocked gently against the glass.

Arnav did not look up.

Khushi opened the door and stepped inside.

“Sir, everything’s done for today. I just need your signature.”

Her voice was calm and professional. Arnav continued staring at his laptop.

“Hmmm…”

Khushi waited. One second. Then another. Arnav still didn’t move.

The only sound in the cabin was the faint hum of the air-conditioning and the ticking of the clock outside.

Khushi shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder. Her eyes moved toward the wall clock again.

Aarav must be waiting.

Arnav noticed the glance. Of course he did. He noticed everything she did, especially the things he pretended not to care about.

Khushi waited a little longer, but when he still showed no intention of signing the document, she took a quiet breath.

“I’ll leave now. You can sign it later.”

Arnav’s fingers stopped above the keyboard.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes. A faint, mocking smile curved one corner of his mouth.

“Why are you in such a hurry, Ms. Sharma?”

Khushi said nothing. His gaze dropped deliberately toward the bag hanging from her shoulder.

Then it travelled back to her face.

“You already look desperate to run off somewhere.”

There it was. The taunt hiding beneath an ordinary sentence.

Khushi felt it immediately. He wasn’t asking why she was leaving.

He wanted to know who she was leaving for. A flicker of irritation appeared in her eyes before she pushed it down.

This idiot.

She tightened her fingers around the bag strap.

Keep calm, Khushi. Don’t let him affect you.

She swallowed. It was a small movement, but Arnav caught it. His eyes sharpened.

For one dangerous second, Khushi wondered whether he could still read her as easily as he once had.

No.

She wouldn’t allow that.

She lifted her chin and met his eyes directly.

“Where I go after work isn’t your concern, sir.”

The final word landed between them with more force than she intended.

Arnav’s jaw tightened.

His hand slowly curled into a fist beside the empty coffee cup.

Arnav pushed his chair back and stood.

He came around the desk until only a short distance remained between them.

Khushi stayed where she was, though every instinct inside her warned her to step back.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sharma.”

His voice was quiet. That made it sharper. Arnav looked directly into her eyes.

“Whatever I felt for you died six years ago.” His expression hardened. “You made sure of it.”

The words struck exactly where he intended them to. Khushi’s breath caught.

For one second, the carefully built walls around her failed.

Her eyes became glassy. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Six years ago.

A prison visiting room.

Arnav standing on the other side of the glass, looking at her as though she were the only person left in his world.

And Khushi forcing herself to destroy that look.

I aborted the baby.

I never loved you.

I only wanted your money.

She could still remember how his face had changed.

How something inside him had broken right in front of her.

Khushi lowered her eyes before Arnav could see too much.

She tightened her hold on the bag, using the pressure to bring herself back to the present.

When she looked up again, the hurt had disappeared.

Her expression was calm.

Almost too calm.

“Then stop behaving like you still do.”

Silence. Complete, stunned silence.

The mocking expression vanished from Arnav’s face.

His lips parted slightly, but there was no reply.

For the first time since she had walked back into his life, Khushi had left him without an answer.

She held his gaze for another moment. Then she turned toward the door.

Arnav remained frozen behind her.

Khushi reached the doorway and rested her hand on the glass door.

She didn’t look back.

“Good night, Mr. Raizada.”

The door closed softly behind her.

Click.

For a brief second, their reflections appeared on opposite sides of the glass.

Then Khushi walked away.

Arnav stood inside the cabin, staring after her.

The glass wall divided them, but the distance felt far greater than a few steps across an office floor.

Khushi kept walking without turning around.

Her back remained straight. Her steps remained steady.

Only when she was far enough from the cabin did she release the breath she had been holding.

Inside, Arnav’s stillness finally broke.

He dragged one hand through his hair and turned away from the glass door.

“Still the same…”

He let out a bitter laugh.

The sound held no amusement.

“Always has to have the last word.”

His reflection stared back at him from the dark glass.

Angry.

Restless.

And far more affected than he wanted to admit.

The soft sound of the elevator reached him.

Ding.

Arnav turned immediately.

Through the glass wall, he saw Khushi step inside.

The warm light of the elevator surrounded her, softening the sharpness of her office clothes and the tiredness on her face.

For a moment, she looked like the woman he remembered.

Not the woman who had betrayed him.

Not the prisoner who had told him their child was gone.

Just Khushi.

His Khushi.

The thought was enough to bring the anger back.

The elevator doors began to close.

Khushi lifted her eyes.

For the briefest second, she looked toward his cabin.

Their gazes almost met across the empty office.

Then the doors slid shut.

She disappeared.

Arnav continued staring at the elevator long after it was gone.

His hand rested against the glass wall.

The anger inside him had softened into something far more dangerous.

Something he refused to name.

Behind him, the empty coffee cup remained on the desk.

The faint taste of cinnamon still lingered in his mouth.

And her words echoed through the silence.

Then stop behaving like you still do.

For the first time in six years, Arnav Singh Raizada was forced to confront a question he had spent years avoiding.

If he truly felt nothing for her…

Why did watching her leave still feel exactly the same?