Arvi's pov:

I clutched my file a little tighter, my knuckles white against the brown leather folder. The Oberoi Industries building loomed in front of me glass and steel stitched together like power and pride. I swallowed hard. I needed this job. I had to prove I wasn't freeloading in that mansion.

I stepped in, my heels clicking against the marble floor of the reception. The air smelled of expensive cologne and pressure. A few employees glanced up from their desks, their eyes scanning me like they already knew I didn't belong.

"Arvi Shah?" a woman in a sharp black suit called. I I stood quickly. "Yes?"

The receptionist said with a pause. "The CEO will be conducting your interview personally."

My breath caught.

"Sorry did you say the CEO?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, already typing something on her keyboard. "Yes. Mr. Rayaan Oberoi."

The folder in my hand nearly slipped.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

My legs felt like ice as I followed her instructions toward the private elevator. Rayaan. Of course it had to be him. The man who had humiliated me, accused me, made me feel like I was nothing but a leech in his world. The man I'd been avoiding every day in the Oberoi mansion, quietly slipping out of rooms whenever he walked in.

Now I had to face him, again. Alone.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out into a sleek, sunlit hallway. Every step I took echoed too loudly in my ears. I tried to breathe, to pull myself together.

But when I opened the door and saw him Rayaan, sitting behind that enormous desk like he ruled the universe my body locked up.

He didn't look surprised.

Of course he wasn't.

He leaned back in his chair with that same arrogant calm he always wore like a second skin.

"Miss Arvi,?" he said, voice low and sharp. "Well... this just made my morning."

I couldn't find my voice. My throat had gone dry. I just stood there, frozen in the doorway like a deer staring down headlights.

"Are you going to sit or run out?" he asked coldly.

My knees nearly buckled, but I moved, each step shaky as I sat across from him. I gripped my folder like it was a lifeline. I couldn't meet his eyes. They always made me feel like I was under a microscope being picked apart, judged, discarded.

He opened my resume and scanned it like it bored him. "Hospitality graduate. Restaurant experience. Fired."

I winced.

He looked up, his eyes locking with mine. "Still blaming me for that?"

"Y..You humiliated me in front of my manager," I said quietly. "I lost everything that night."

His expression didn't even flicker. "You spilled a drink on me."

"I didn't do it on purpose," I whispered.

He leaned forward, voice like ice. "But you still ended up under our roof, didn't you? Poor girl with nowhere to go... rescued by my mother. Convenient."

Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away. Not here. Not in front of him. I hated that my hands were trembling in my lap.

"I'm not here to beg," I managed. "I'm here to earn a job."

He laughed under his breath. "You think a few rehearsed answers are going to fix your reputation in my eyes?"

My chest tightened. I couldn't take this. I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong enough to be in this room with him not after everything.

"You've already decided who I am," I whispered. "Why even pretend this is a real interview?"

He stood abruptly, circling around the desk, closing the distance between us. I tensed, every nerve in my body going on high alert.

"Because," he said, his voice low, "I want to see how far you'll go to prove you're not the girl I think you are."

My heart was beating so fast I thought it might break through my ribs. I was scared of him. Not because he'd touch me no, Rayaan Oberoi was too proud for that but because he hurt with words. With eyes that looked at me like I was a parasite. And no matter how much I tried to be unaffected, deep down... it broke something in me.

"I'm not asking for your approval," I said, voice shaking. "Just a chance."

He stared at me.

Then, after a long pause, he stepped back.

"Fine," he said coolly. "Let's see what you've got."

The questions started. And even though I was trembling inside, I answered. Somehow. My voice stumbled here and there. I blanked once and had to close my eyes to recall the word. But I made it through.

Until his phone buzzed.

He answered it, sighing. "Yes, Mom... she's still here... no, I haven't made her cry. Yet."

I closed my eyes for a second. I hated that he found this funny.

He hung up and looked at me like this was just a game to him.

"This job," he said, "will not be easy. I won't go easy on you just because my mother likes you. In fact, I'll expect more from you. And the minute you slip, Miss Arvi I will throw you out."

I stood, slowly. My heart was pounding, but my voice didn't tremble this time.

"Then I'll make sure I don't slip."

I left before he could say anything else. And the second I stepped into the elevator, I leaned back against the wall, my legs weak.

I had survived him. Barely.

But it felt like I'd left a part of myself behind in that room crushed under the weight of everything he'd said.

Rayaan's pov:

I knew she'd come.

The second I heard a "Miss Arvi Shah" was on the interview list for our hospitality division, something in me went still. It wasn't surprise. It was inevitability. Like a storm you feel before the clouds even turn grey.

I should've told HR to cancel. Told them she was disqualified. Told them she was living in my house, on my mother's compassion. But I didn't.

Instead, I told them I'd take her interview myself.

I needed to see her.

I told myself it was to draw boundaries. To remind her where she stood. But the truth?

I wasn't done being angry.

I heard her heels before I saw her sharp, nervous steps coming down the hall. And when the door opened, and she stepped inside, clutching that worn folder like it could protect her from me... something twisted in my chest.

She looked smaller in this room.

But her eyes still held that same defiance I remembered. The same fire. Even under fear.

"Arvi Shah?" I said, letting the ice seep into my voice. "Well... this just made my morning."

She didn't speak. Just stared. Pale, stiff, like her body was here but her mind was screaming to run.

Good.

Let her remember who she's dealing with.

I told her to sit. She moved like she was stepping into a cage. And maybe she was.

I flipped open her resume, scanning the lines I already knew. Good education. Solid experience. Fired.

I let the word hang in the air.

"Still blaming me for that?" I asked, not because I wanted an answer because I wanted her to remember.

"Y..You humiliated me," she whispered. "I lost everything that night."

Her voice God. It was soft. Fragile. It shouldn't have gotten under my skin, but it did. I looked away before it could show.

"You still ended up under our roof. That's convenient," I said. I didn't mean to say it like that but I didn't stop myself either.

And when she said, "I'm not here to beg," something sharp bloomed in my chest. I couldn't tell if it was guilt or anger.

"You think this little job will redeem you?" I snapped. "You think a few answers will change who I think you are?"

She flinched.

I hated that I noticed. I hated that I cared.

She looked like she wanted to cry but she didn't. And when she asked, "Why even pretend this is a real interview?" something in me cracked.

Because I didn't know anymore.

Because somewhere between seeing her in the mansion's kitchen at midnight and overhearing her whisper apologies to the staff, I'd started doubting my own assumptions.

"I want to see how far you'll go to prove me wrong," I said instead.

I stood, circling her, watching her shrink into herself like she was waiting for the next blow.

She was scared of me.

And I hated that more than I could explain.

But I kept going questions, one after the other. Half of me hoping she'd fail. The other half praying she wouldn't.

She stumbled once, blanked for a second. But she didn't give up. Didn't run.

That stubbornness God, it infuriated me. And impressed me.

Then my phone buzzed.

Mom.

Of course.

"Yeah, she's here... no, I haven't thrown her out yet," I said, watching her face the whole time.

She didn't look angry. She looked... tired.

Exhausted from fighting me.

I hung up, sighing. "Your biggest cheerleader is on speed dial."

"I didn't ask her to call," she said quietly.

That guilt again. Crawling up my throat like something alive.

I gave her the final line like it was a threat: "If you slip, you're out."

She stood. And for the first time since she walked in, she didn't look afraid.

"Then I'll make sure I don't slip," she said.

And she walked out.

And I just sat there.

Looking at the door long after it closed, wondering why the hell I felt like I was the one who'd been tested.

And lost.

Rayaan's pov:

I reached home later than usual.

The interview had left me on edge all day not that I'd ever admit that to anyone. Especially not her. I didn't even know why I was still thinking about Arvi's trembling hands, the flicker of fear in her eyes, or the way she still stood her ground anyway. It wasn't supposed to matter.

I went straight to my room, peeled off the day, and let the hot water drown the noise in my head. When I walked out, towel in hand, hair damp, I just wanted peace. A quiet dinner. Solitude.

No such luck.

I stepped into the living room and froze.

They were all there.

Aleesha and Arekha curled up on the big couch with popcorn bowls and matching evil smiles. Vanisha was sifting through cards, and Vivaan had some dumb board game box in his hand.

And right in the middle, tucked between cushions like she belonged there, was Arvi.

Her hair was in a lazy braid over one shoulder. She was in a soft lavender kurti. Her eyes widened when she saw me but just for a second. Then she looked away.

Good. She is better.

"Rayaan bhai!" Vanisha chirped. "You're finally home. Come sit!"

"No," I said flatly. "I'm going upstairs."

"Nope," Aleesha grinned. "You don't get to escape. You grilled us for an hour last night about studies. Tonight, you sit. Arvi's playing too."

Of course she is.

Arekha patted the empty spot next to her. "Come on. We're doing 'rapid fire questions.' Fun ones."

I looked at Arvi. She still wouldn't meet my eyes. Good. Or annoying. I couldn't tell.

I sighed. "Fine. Ten minutes."

I sat on the armrest, arms crossed, ready to be as un-fun as possible.

"Continue," I said simply.

No one dared refuse.

"So," Aleesha said, voice light, nervous, "we were just talking about Arvi's type."

My eyes flicked to her.

Arvi's cheeks flushed.

"She said she likes quiet guys," Vanisha grinned, clearly amused, "honest, respectful, tall..."

"Sounds like Vivaan," Arekha joked.

Vivaan laughed, but when I looked at him, he quickly looked away.

"She didn't say funny," Arvi added softly.

Everyone laughed. Everyone except me.

"Okay okay," Aleesha leaned closer to her. "Real talk have you ever liked someone at your workplace?"

Arvi blinked. "No."

"Come on, you must've had a crush on someone. Chef? Manager? That cute waiter guy?"

I didn't blink. Didn't move.

But something coiled tight inside me.

Arvi chuckled. "They were mostly rude or married."

"And what about now?" Vanisha asked innocently. "Anyone in this house caught your eye?"

Arvi looked stunned. "What? No!"

I could feel heat rising inside me, curling in slow, angry tendrils.

"She's blushing!" Arekha squealed. "She totally has a secret crush!"

"I don't," Arvi said quickly.

Vivaan leaned in like an idiot. "Fine, describe your dream guy. No names."

Arvi hesitated, then sighed like she was giving in. "Okay... he should be calm, not loud. Someone who can handle his anger. Who doesn't shout when things go wrong."

My jaw locked.

Someone who can handle his anger?

"He should be gentle. With words. And not... cruel," she added, voice softer.

Every word was a dart, aimed straight at me.

"Sounds like she's describing the anti Rayaan," Arekha giggled.

The room went still.

No one laughed after that.

I tilted my head slightly. "Say that again?"

Arekha paled. "I..I was joking, bhai."

I looked at Arvi. "Is that true?"

Her eyes met mine. She didn't speak.

It was enough.

I stood.

"Vivaan," I said. "Walk with me. NOW!!."

Vivaan scrambled to his feet, stammering, "Y-yeah. Of course."

As I walked away, I didn't look back.

But her words stayed behind like thorns under my skin.

He should be gentle.

Not cruel.

She feared me.

And yet, she laughed with them. Let them ask questions. Let them imagine her smiling with someone else.

Not me.

Never me.

And somehow, that made it worse.

.

.

.

.

The corridor outside the living room was quiet.

Too quiet for how loud the thoughts in my head were.

Vivaan walked a few steps behind me, pretending not to feel the tension crackling in the air. I stopped near the large window by the staircase. The evening light cast a long shadow across the marble floor.

I didn't turn to face him.

"Vivaan," I said calmly.

"Hmm?"

"What's with all those questions back there?"

He blinked. "Just harmless fun."

"Fun," I repeated. "It didn't look harmless."

He gave a careful chuckle. "It was just... cousins teasing someone new. Like always."

"She's not one of you."

"She's been living here for a while now, bhai."

I turned to him slowly. "And that makes it okay to ask if she has a crush on someone in this house?"

Vivaan raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with the question... or the answer?"

I didn't reply.

He scratched his neck, nervous now. "You're mad because she said she likes calm, gentle people?"

I said nothing. Just stared.

Vivaan smirked slightly. "You're not calm. Or gentle. But that doesn't mean-"

"She was talking about me." My voice was low.

Vivaan paused. "Maybe. Or maybe she's just trying to protect herself."

"She laughed," I replied. "With all of you. She blushed. She played along."

Vivaan folded his arms. "You know what I saw, bhai? A girl trying very hard not to offend you. Even when she was laughing. Even when she was teasing."

"She doesn't need to fear me."

"You gave her a reason to," he said, blunt for once. "From day one."

I looked away, jaw tight.

"You don't like her laughing with us," he added quietly. "You don't like anyone asking her questions. You want her quiet. Invisible."

"I didn't say that."

Silence.

Heavy. Dense.

"Go back to them," I said finally.

Vivaan nodded slowly, then turned to walk away. But just before he left, he added over his shoulder:

"She might be scared of you, bhai... but she doesn't hate you. If she did, she wouldn't care what you think of her."

And with that, he left me alone with my thoughts.

With the soft echo of her laugh still stuck somewhere in the back of my mind.

And the unsettling truth that maybe just maybe I didn't want her to be afraid.

Authors pov:

I've been pouring my heart into this story and updating regularly, hoping to connect with you all but it's been a little quiet on your end lately. I won't lie, it's disheartening to not see any votes or comments, especially when I'm giving it my all.

If you're reading this and enjoying the story, even a small comment or a single vote would mean so much to me. It keeps me going and reminds me that this story is reaching someone out there.

Thank you to those silently reading I see you too. But I'd love to hear your voice.

With love,

Imsal.