Chapter 6

A week had passed.

Seven full days of silence between Aria and Kabir.

No emails. No calls. No accidental run-ins.

The only messages exchanged were between Aisha and Paul—brief, professional, focused on the finer details of the pitch. Nothing personal. Nothing unnecessary.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn't.

Every morning, Aria checked her inbox out of habit. And every morning, she reminded herself that Kabir Oberoi wasn't a habit she needed to form.

Instead, she buried herself in work. The pitch was polished, the numbers were airtight, and her team had put together an execution plan so seamless that even Kabir would be forced to admit they were the best option.

Not that his opinion mattered beyond business.

Paul, of course, wasn't buying it.

"So, are we just going to pretend this isn't weird?" he asked one evening, leaning against her office door.

Aria didn't glance up. "Pretend what isn't weird?"

Paul gave her a dry look. "The silence. The lack of mind games. The fact that neither of you has attempted to get under the other's skin."

"I don't play mind games."

Paul snorted. "Right. And I'm the next Dalai Lama."

Aria sighed, rubbing her temples. "What do you want me to say, Paul?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe something about how you haven't thrown away that white rose he left at the pitch meeting?"

She stilled. Just for a fraction of a second.

Paul smirked.

She looked up, unimpressed. "Are you done?"

"For now." He pushed off the doorframe. "By the way, Aisha just sent over the final contract terms for review. Want me to go through it before tomorrow?"

"Yes. And let me know if anything looks off."

Paul nodded, but before leaving, he added, "You do realize you're going to see him tomorrow, right?"

Aria didn't react. "It's not a big deal."

Paul chuckled. "Sure, boss."

It wasn't a big deal.

She had attended the Bengaluru Socialite & Industry Meet every year since she was twenty.

Back then, she had been her father's plus-one—smiling politely, making the right connections, observing as he navigated conversations with effortless charm.

This year was different.

This year, she was attending as the CEO of Meraki Co.

This year, she was attending as her own person.

And this year, she would be in the same room as Kabir, without the structure of a pitch meeting to keep things strictly professional.

It didn't matter.

She had handled worse.

Kabir adjusted the cuff of his black dress shirt, watching his reflection in the mirror.

Aisha stood a few steps away, arms crossed, unimpressed.

"You know," she said, "if you're this distracted now, tomorrow is going to be a disaster."

Kabir smirked. "Distracted? By what?"

Aisha rolled her eyes. "By who."

He didn't reply.

Because he didn't have to.

Aisha had been working with him long enough to read between the silences.

She watched as he reached for his watch, strapping it on with precise, controlled movements. "You could just reach out to her, you know."

Kabir chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've been a pain in the ass all week?"

He shot her a look. "I'm always a pain in the ass."

"True. But this time, it's different."

Kabir didn't argue.

Because Aisha was right.

The silence between him and Aria had been suffocating in ways he hadn't anticipated.

He had expected her to retaliate after the pitch meeting, to come back at him with something sharp, something that would remind him why he enjoyed pushing her buttons.

Instead, she had given him nothing.

Not even a reaction.

And that, somehow, was more maddening than anything else.

Aisha sighed. "She'll be there tomorrow."

Kabir smirked, adjusting his collar. "I'd be disappointed if she wasn't."

Aisha gave him a pointed look. "Try not to start a war."

He chuckled, rolling his sleeves up slightly. "No promises."