The entire office held its breath. The silence was deafening, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. No one dared to move, let alone speak. The air was cold-not from the air conditioning, but from the presence of the woman standing at th...
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I should have felt relieved.
This was what I wanted, right? Distance. Professionalism. A clear line between us.
Then why the hell did it feel like I had lost something?
The words she said earlier—"It’s Ms. Singhania."
That cold, detached tone. That distant stare.
It shouldn’t have hurt.
And yet, hours later, as I packed up my things and left the office, her voice still echoed in my head.
I scoffed, running a hand through my hair as I stepped outside. The sky was dark and heavy, the air thick with the promise of rain.
What was I even doing?
Why was I thinking about this so much?
Why did it bother me that she had drawn a line between us?
I tried shaking it off, but the feeling sat deep in my chest, heavy and unmovable.
I walked toward my usual route home, pulling out my phone to check the time when a small commotion caught my attention.
A little boy, no older than five, was crying by the sidewalk, his hands balled into tiny fists. His mother crouched in front of him, gently scolding him while wiping his tears.
“I told you not to run ahead,” she sighed. “You’ll get hurt if you’re not careful.”
The kid hiccupped, sniffling, his tiny voice breaking. “I thought you left me.”
Her expression softened instantly. “I would never leave you, dummy,” she murmured, pulling him into a hug.
I didn’t know why—but something about that scene hit me.
I turned away, exhaling sharply, shaking off the strange feeling creeping over me.
But then, just a few steps later, I passed by a street vendor.
And there it was—her favorite ice cream flavor.
The same one I had bought for her when she had locked herself in her office after dealing with her family. The same one that had been the only thing to get her to let her guard down.
I froze in my step, staring at the cart.
And for the first time, I admitted it to myself.
I had started caring for her long before I even realized it.
I had memorized her habits.
I noticed when she was upset.
I knew what made her angry, what calmed her down, what made her smile.
