Chapter 30

The problem with realizations?

They don't hit you all at once.

They sneak up on you. Slowly. Piece by piece.

And today, I ran out of excuses.

Because after a week of Mehul's subtle-but-not-so-subtle actions, I was finally forced to face the one question I had been avoiding.

Does he like me back?

It happened in the worst way possible.

Arjun and Riya had officially stopped being helpful.

By lunchtime, they had gone from teasing me to fully analyzing Mehul's every move.

Arjun: "Alright, let's break it down. He saves your seat. He gets you chai. He stares at you like a mysterious broody drama lead."

Riya: "It's basically a workplace romance at this point."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Can we not?"

Riya tapped her chin. "Oh? So if he brings you chai again today, what then?"

I scoffed. "Then we confirm he has a caffeine addiction and move on."

Arjun smirked. "Oh, buddy. You're gonna regret saying that."

And I did.

Because not even ten minutes later—

A cup of chai appeared on my desk.

And Mehul was the one who placed it there.

I stared at it. Then at him.

He was already looking at me.

I cleared my throat. "You, uh… You keep doing this."

Mehul just shrugged. "You keep forgetting."

I swallowed. Hard.

Because no.

I hadn't forgotten.

If anything, I had been waiting.

And that thought alone ruined me.

By now, I had accepted my fate.

Mehul was getting to me.

But today? He took it further.

It happened when I was halfway through my chai, still reeling from the fact that he brought it in the first place.

I wasn't paying attention.

Didn't even notice when my hand knocked into the edge of the cup—

Spilling a few drops onto my sleeve.

I cursed, grabbing a tissue. "Shit. I—"

And then—before I could react—

Mehul reached forward.

And wiped it off for me.

Just. Like. That.

No hesitation. No warning.

A single swipe of his thumb against my wrist, effortless, natural, like he had done it a thousand times before.

I froze.

The world blurred.

Because what the fuck was that?

My brain refused to process it.

The touch was barely anything.

But it felt like everything.

It was so casual. So unbothered.

And yet—it completely undid me.

Mehul pulled his hand away like it was nothing. "Careful."

Then, as if he hadn't just ruined my entire existence, he turned back to his laptop.

And I sat there, staring at my wrist.

Feeling the warmth of his touch still lingering.

Still burning.

And finally, finally, I admitted it.

This was not normal.