CHAPTER EIGHT: TRACES OF CONCERN
As soon as they entered into Priya’s apartment, Aryan walked straight toward the kitchen, his tall frame moving with practiced ease. Priya frowned, trailing behind him. “Don’t tell me, that you’re going to cook for me.” Her tone was half disbelief, half teasing, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Aryan didn’t even glance at her, just replied casually: “But I’m.”
His voice was steady, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Surprised, Priya stepped beside him, watching as he placed the box on the counter. “Did you know cooking?” she asked, raising a brow, her tone laced with doubt but also curiosity.
While opening the box, Aryan smirked faintly. “Not as much, but…” He pulled out a familiar yellow packet, holding it like a small treasure. “But I can make Maggi for you.”
Priya’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. “Maggi… here?” she asked, her voice full of shock, almost childlike, because she knew how rare it was to find Maggi in Paris.
Aryan simply nodded. “Hmm.” His short reply carried quiet pride, as if he had just revealed a secret weapon.
Her lips curled into laughter. “You were carrying this in your car?” she teased, shaking her head, her tone playful.
Aryan looked at her briefly, his expression softening as he explained, “Actually, mom sent this parcel mistakenly to the office address, so I was taking it home.” His voice lowered slightly at the mention of his mother, carrying warmth he rarely showed.
Priya’s head tilted with curiosity. “Is your mom not here?”
Aryan’s hands paused for a brief moment before continuing. “No, my parents are in India. And they’re looking for a girl for me there.” His voice was flat, but a shadow crossed his face—frustration hidden under calm words.
Priya’s eyes flickered with understanding, but she masked it with casual curiosity. “Oh… Btw, how do you know that kitchen is here?” Her tone was lighter than before, as if testing his mood, surprised that she was speaking so casually with him.
Aryan gave a small shrug. “Because I did all the settings here.” His voice was confident, almost proud.
Her eyes widened in shock. “Really?”
“Hmm… because some time ago, I used to stay here.” His tone softened, carrying a trace of old memories. Priya caught the unspoken story—this apartment wasn’t just walls and furniture, it had been his space, his past.
“Oh, that’s why.” she murmured, nodding slowly, her expression thoughtful.
As they talked, Aryan grabbed some fresh vegetables, casually placing them on the chopping board. With practiced movements, he began folding the sleeves of his black shirt up to his forearms.
The simple act hit Priya harder than she expected. Her eyes lingered on his strong arms, the veins subtly tracing down to his hands. Every fold of the fabric made her heart beat a little faster. She quickly bit her lip, scolding herself silently, but she couldn’t stop staring.
Aryan rinsed the vegetables and picked up a knife. His technique was clumsy, his cuts uneven, but there was something endearing in the effort. The man who looked so polished and controlled in the office was awkwardly chopping vegetables just for her.
Priya leaned slightly against the counter, her gaze fixed—not on the vegetables, but on his hands. His veins stood out against his skin, and she found herself mesmerized. How can hands look this attractive? she thought, caught between admiration and embarrassment.
Minutes later, Aryan cleared his throat. “Your Maggi is ready…” His voice snapped her out of her daze. She blinked quickly, embarrassed that she had been staring at him without realizing.
They carried the steaming bowls into the living area and sat across from each other. Priya took the first bite, her eyes lighting up. “Umm… it’s amazing…” she said, her tone filled with genuine delight, a bright smile tugging at her lips.
Aryan took his own bite and nearly chuckled. The taste was nothing special, but as he glanced at her glowing face, his lips softened into a rare smile. Not even that much, but if she feels like this, then I can’t say anything, he thought silently, warmth flooding his chest.
For the first time in a long while, Aryan Khanna wasn’t the stern leader or the cold son—he was just a man sharing a simple bowl of Maggi, quietly enjoying the sight of her happiness.
After finishing the meal, Priya placed her bowl down gently, satisfaction glowing on her face. She immediately began gathering the dishes, moving with her usual sense of responsibility. Aryan leaned back slightly, watching her for a moment, before speaking in his calm yet firm voice, “Give me, I put it in the kitchen.” There was a subtle command in his tone, but underneath it lingered a rare softness—his way of showing care without directly saying it.
Priya shook her head quickly, giving a small smile as she clutched the plates. “No, it’s okay, I can do it.” Her voice was light but determined, almost as if doing this simple chore was her way of repaying him for cooking.
Without waiting for him to argue, she picked up the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen, her footsteps echoing faintly against the tiled floor.
Just then, Aryan’s phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening at the name flashing across it. With a reluctant sigh, he answered.
His voice was low, guarded, carrying traces of irritation as he spoke, “Now what, dad?”
The tone wasn’t outright disrespectful, but it was clipped—like a man exhausted from being constantly questioned.
From the kitchen, Priya’s voice floated back, unaware he was on the phone. “Do you want water?” she asked casually, her tone sweet, almost domestic.
Aryan, caught between two conversations, pressed his forehead with his fingers and replied quickly, “No.”
On the other side, his father’s sharp tone cut through the line. “Whose voice is this?” Mr. Khanna asked. There was suspicion in his words, as though he already doubted Aryan’s explanation.
Aryan’s grip tightened on the phone. “My assistant.” His reply was flat, curt, and defensive.
Mr. Khanna’s voice rose, tinged with disbelief. “Assistant… But you said you were going home.” His words dripped with accusation, like a father unconvinced by his son’s excuses.
Aryan shut his eyes briefly, frustration spilling into his tone as he muttered, “Dad, please.” His voice cracked just slightly—not out of weakness, but out of the weariness of having the same conversation over and over again.
But his father was not easily swayed. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I’ll ask Karan.”
The threat was calm, but cutting—designed to corner him.
Aryan’s jaw tightened, his patience snapping. “Do whatever you want.” His tone was cold now, final, like a door slamming shut.
The line went dead. Call end.
Priya returned just in time to notice the stormy expression flickering across Aryan’s face, though he masked it quickly. Her brows drew together with concern. “Is everything okay?” she asked softly, almost hesitant, as if worried she was stepping into something too personal.
Aryan looked at her, forcing a small nod. “Hmm… Now I have to go, you take care of yourself…” His tone had softened again, losing its edge. It was gentler now, like he was deliberately leaving her with reassurance instead of worry.
Priya lowered her eyes, her voice equally soft. “Hmm.” It was a quiet acknowledgment, carrying both agreement and a hint of unspoken emotion.
His lips curved faintly, satisfied with her response. “Good.” The word was short but filled with weight, carrying a hidden layer of protectiveness.
He reached for his coat—the same coat Priya had carefully placed on the sofa earlier. The gesture didn’t escape him; it was a small, thoughtful act from her side, and though he said nothing, his eyes lingered on it for a second longer.
With a brief glance at her, Aryan straightened, slipping into the composed, distant version of himself again. He gave a short goodbye and walked toward the door. His footsteps were steady, but the atmosphere he left behind carried traces of tension—unspoken questions, and emotions that neither of them voiced.
As the door clicked shut, the room suddenly felt a little emptier. Priya stood still, her heart oddly unsettled, while Aryan, outside, carried the weight of a call that had clearly stirred more than he wanted to admit.
Aryan was seated in his cabin, his eyes fixed on a document though his mind seemed elsewhere, when suddenly the door burst open. Karan walked in hurriedly, his tone urgent and almost playful at the same time.
“Leader… Leader.”
His voice was a mixture of concern and curiosity, as if he had stumbled upon something juicy and couldn’t wait to confront Aryan about it.
Aryan looked up from his papers, brows slightly furrowed. His voice was calm but edged with seriousness. “What happened?”
Karan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes, lowering his tone as though preparing for an interrogation. “Firstly, tell me one thing.”
Aryan tilted his head, suspicious of Karan’s tone. His reply was sharp. “What?”
Karan crossed his arms, smirk tugging at his lips. “Where were you yesterday evening?”
The question wasn’t casual—it carried weight, like someone had already questioned him and he was now passing that pressure onto Aryan.
Aryan straightened, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. His voice came cool, almost dismissive. “Obviously in my home.”
But Karan pressed further, unwilling to let it go. “No, I mean, about 7:00 or 8:00 pm.” There was teasing in his tone, but also a hint of seriousness—it was clear he was fishing for something.
Aryan exhaled, as though reluctantly giving an answer. “At that time, with Riya.”
The moment her name left his mouth, Karan’s smirk deepened.
“Oh really, where?” Karan asked, his smirk now a full-blown grin. His eyes sparkled with the thrill of poking into Aryan’s business.
Aryan shot him a glare, voice stern. “Why would I tell you?” There was irritation in his tone, but underneath it, there was also a flicker of protectiveness—as if Riya’s name wasn’t something to be casually tossed around.
Karan shrugged innocently, though the mischievousness never left his face. “Because all these questions your dad asked me, and I had no answer.” The mood shifted instantly. At the mention of his father, Aryan’s expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
“So that’s why you are asking me all these questions, so you can tell him… right?” Aryan’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes betrayed annoyance—he hated being cornered like this.
Karan raised his brows and replied lightly, almost taunting. “Maybe… By the way, where is Riya today?”
Aryan glanced at the clock, realizing she was indeed unusually late. His voice turned from annoyed to commanding in an instant. “I don’t know, call her why she is too late today.” The authority in his tone left no room for argument.
Karan sighed, still smirking, but obeyed. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.
The line connected. “Riya, where are you?” Karan asked casually, but his tone shifted the moment he heard her reply.
“At the hospital.” Her voice was low, faint, carrying exhaustion or perhaps pain.
Karan froze, his eyes widening. Panic slipped into his tone. “In hospital? Are you okay?”
But before he could get more answers, Aryan snatched the phone from his hand, his heartbeat quickening. His expression transformed from cold authority to raw panic. “What happened? Are you okay? Tell me in which hospital you are, I am coming.” His voice was urgent, demanding, filled with an intensity Priya had never heard from him before.
On the other end, her voice was soft, almost trying to soothe. “No, it’s okay.”
But Aryan’s voice cut through firmly, leaving no space for argument. “I said tell me, in which hospital you are?” Every word was layered with worry, his usual control replaced by helplessness.
Finally, she gave him the hospital’s name. He didn’t waste a second. “Okay, I’m coming.” His reply was sharp, resolute, filled with finality.
Aryan lowered the phone, his chest rising and falling quickly. He looked at Karan, determination blazing in his eyes. “Are you coming with me?” His voice was steady, but his urgency was unmistakable.
Karan blinked, still processing what had just happened. “Are you really going?” There was disbelief in his tone—Aryan was never the type to rush like this, especially for someone else, for his employees.
Aryan’s head snapped toward him, one eyebrow raised in sharp authority. “Why? Can’t I?” The question carried both defiance and a challenge, daring Karan to say otherwise.
Karan lifted his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “No, you can, but you never…” Before he could finish, Aryan cut him off with a commanding tone, his patience thin. “Are you coming or not?”
Karan finally nodded, realizing Aryan wasn’t asking—he was ordering. “Yes, I’m.” His voice held no teasing now, only surprise at Aryan’s sudden urgency.
After some time, they both on their way towards the hospital. The ride had been tense—Aryan driving with unusual speed, his knuckles pale from gripping the steering wheel, while Karan kept glancing sideways, silently shocked at this side of his leader.
As soon as they arrived, Aryan didn’t waste a second. Both of them rushed down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing until they reached the room number Priya had given on the call.
The door opened, and Aryan’s eyes immediately darted to her. Priya was sitting on the bed, upright and looking far more stable than what he had imagined. Relief softened his otherwise stern expression, though he tried not to show it.
Karan, on the other hand, let out an audible sigh and then asked, his tone both confused and slightly scolding, “If you are okay, then why are you here?” There was concern in his words, though he masked it with his usual casualness.
Priya quietly lifted her hand, wrapped in bandage, the redness still visible around the edges. Her voice was soft, almost guilty. “It got infected, because I haven’t taken care of it properly.” Her eyes dropped as though ashamed for worrying them both.
Aryan stepped closer, his expression immediately hardening, not out of anger but from worry. His voice came firm, edged with frustration born from care. “Yesterday, I told you to consult the doctor, but you didn’t listen to me.” The authority in his tone made her shrink a little, and yet she could sense the genuine concern beneath every word.
She remembered that yesterday, when they were both sitting in the car, Aryan had looked at her injured hand with quiet concern. “You should consult a doctor,” he had told her in a firm yet calm voice.
But Priya, brushing off the pain with a small smile, had shaken her head. “I’m fine… it’s nothing serious,” she had replied.
Aryan’s eyes had lingered on her for a moment, as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he had tightened his grip on the steering wheel and let out a soft sigh. His silence was not indifference—it was restraint. He didn’t want to force her, but the worry in his eyes had said more than his words ever could.
Now, sitting in the hospital room with him standing in front of her, those words echoed in her mind, filling her with a quiet guilt for not listening to him when she should have. Priya lowered her gaze, her lips pressing into a faint line. With a small, regretful voice, she whispered, “Sorry.” Her apology was quiet, filled with guilt, almost like a child caught in the wrong.
Aryan inhaled deeply, forcing his tone to soften. His sharp edges melted into gentleness as he leaned slightly closer. “It’s okay… Now, what’s the doctor saying?” The shift in his voice revealed what he truly felt—relief that she was fine, mixed with lingering worry.
Priya looked up with a faint smile, her eyes meeting his briefly before she answered. “He gave me some medicine and ointment and asked me to rest.” There was a hint of reassurance in her words, as though she was trying to convince not only them but also herself that everything was under control.
Karan crossed his arms, observing silently. His eyes flickered between the two of them—the way Aryan’s sternness softened only for her, and the way Priya’s timid voice seemed to calm him in return. The atmosphere was no longer heavy with panic, but warm with quiet relief, though unspoken emotions lingered beneath the surface.
After a week, Aryan and Karan were in deep discussion about some files spread across the desk when the door opened. Priya walked in with her usual soft smile, carrying her files in one hand. “Good morning,” she greeted politely. Both men looked up almost in unison and replied, “Good morning.”
Aryan’s sharp eyes immediately fell on her hand. The memory of her injury still lingered in his mind. His voice softened instinctively as he asked, “How’s your hand now?” There was concern tucked behind his firm tone, something he didn’t bother to hide this time.
Priya raised her hand slightly, showing the bandage-free skin, and with a relieved smile said, “Better.” Then she quietly walked toward her desk and settled into her chair, flipping open her files.
Karan, however, leaned back in his seat with his usual mischievous glint. “Riya,” he called casually.
“Hmm,” she replied, not looking up, still focusing on her papers.
Karan tilted his head, smirking as he asked, “Did yesterday, you and Leader, go somewhere?”
The way he stretched the words carried a teasing undertone, like he was fishing for something.
Without hesitation, Priya looked up and answered calmly, “Just at my place.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but Aryan’s body went stiff at her words. The memory of dropping her home after her hospital discharge flashed in his mind. She had been happy—so happy that she had actually cooked something for him, a rare glimpse of warmth.
Karan blinked, stunned, and then repeated slowly, as if savoring every word, “At… your… place…” He turned his head toward Aryan, eyes twinkling with mischief, and leaned closer to whisper, “Leader, did something happen?”
Aryan’s jaw clenched. His sharp glare was enough to silence a room, but Karan wasn’t a man easily scared. Still, Aryan’s voice was cold, controlled, and edged with anger as he said, “Karan, just go to your cabin, now.”
Karan chuckled under his breath. Instead of backing off immediately, he leaned in again and teased quietly, “Okay, I can understand that you have to spend some time alone with her.” He knew exactly how to push buttons.
Aryan turned his eyes on him again, his gaze heavy with warning. For a second, the room felt thick with silent tension. Karan, however, only grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender before finally leaving. As he stepped out, he couldn’t resist flashing one last cheeky smile.
The cabin returned to its usual silence. Priya ducked her head, pretending to bury herself in her work, but her lips curled into the faintest smile at Karan’s antics. Aryan, meanwhile, exhaled deeply, trying to bury the irritation building in him.
Minutes passed in quiet work. Papers shuffled, keyboards clicked, and the silence grew heavy until Aryan leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly with a sigh of relief. “Finally, it’s done,” he murmured, closing the last file of his new project.
The project was big—his biggest yet. And when it came to investors, only one name surfaced in his mind: Mr. Oberoi. His brows furrowed with thought before he looked at Priya and ordered firmly, “Riya, do one thing. Contact Mr. Oberoi and fix my meeting with him.”
Priya froze. Her throat tightened at the name. She tried to steady her expression and asked cautiously, “Why?” Her tone carried a touch of resistance, almost betraying the storm inside her.
Aryan’s eyes narrowed at her question. His voice turned sharp, like a blade. “Do you have any right to ask me why?”
Priya instantly lowered her eyes, her voice quiet as she admitted, “No.”
Aryan leaned back with authority, his words cutting the air. “So now find his contact.”
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to ask in the softest tone, “But from where?”
His patience was thin, and his reply came clipped. “Check it in office records, or else online… Today you have to find it somehow.”
Priya’s heart raced, but she kept her face composed.‘Who knows better than me where to find his contacts? But I promise, you will never get them,’ she thought firmly, her inner voice trembling with both defiance and fear.
Turning to the computer, she opened the office database, her fingers moving quickly on the keyboard. She searched for her father’s company details—then deliberately removed every trace of them. Her expression remained calm, but her heartbeat was wild.
Aryan, noticing her typing, asked suddenly, his voice pulling her back. “Did you find it?” He looked at her intently.
Priya glanced at him, then shook her head lightly. “No, I am looking for details.”
Suspicion lingered in his eyes. “Did you see it in the company’s database?”
“Hmm… but there are not any details about him.” She lied smoothly, keeping her tone even.
Aryan leaned back, watching her closely. “And what about Online?”
“I’m just looking into it,” she replied, her voice calm, though inside her hands felt clammy on the keyboard.
His sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally said, “Okay… go ahead.” Then he turned back to his work, unaware that the very person he had ordered to find Oberoi’s contact was the one who had just erased it.
“Finally, I blocked every contact and everything through which he can contact Dad.”
Her chest rose and fell as though a weight had lifted, but she knew this was only temporary. To calm her racing heart, she quickly switched her focus and began browsing for modeling opportunities.
After a while, her eyes landed on a project that seemed perfect for her. Her lips curved into a bright smile, her face lighting up as she muttered softly, “Ahh… finally…” Her voice carried genuine happiness, almost like a child finding a long-lost toy.
Aryan, who had been buried in his files, caught the sound of her relief and looked up sharply. His gaze was penetrating as he asked, “Did you find it?”
Priya’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly closed the page and forced a calm tone, replying with a faint smile, “Hmm… maybe just in a while.” Inside, she was lying, and her nerves buzzed with the fear of being caught, but her face betrayed none of it.
Aryan studied her for a moment before nodding curtly. “Okay.”
Priya exhaled quietly, grateful for the escape. She immediately went back to her screen, filling out the submission form for the shoot. But when her eyes reached the last requirement, her excitement dropped.
“Oh sh*t, they want a portfolio, but I don’t have it,” she thought, frustration rising. She bit her lip and consoled herself silently, “It’s okay for now, just skip it.”
She continued typing, filling every detail carefully, and then pressed submit. A small wave of satisfaction flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t last long.
Aryan’s voice cut through the silence again, this time firmer. “How much time you want for it?”
Priya’s mind blanked. She had to defend herself quickly, and her tone turned defensive as she said, “It’s all not my fault, there is not a single detail about him.” Her voice held a quiet tremor, masking the truth behind a shield of helplessness.
Aryan leaned back, tapping his pen against the table. His patience was thinning, and his eyes hardened as he instructed, “You just do one thing, call Karan. He’s an expert in finding someone’s details.”
Priya’s stomach knotted, but she nodded obediently. “Okay.” Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the phone and dialed Karan’s number.
Within a short while, the door swung open, and Karan entered with his usual casual stride. He looked between them curiously before focusing on Aryan. “Did you call me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aryan didn’t waste time. “Hmm… I want Mr. Oberoi’s contact number.” His tone was low, steady, but carried weight—the kind of voice that left no room for excuses.
Karan frowned slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I don’t have his number.”
Aryan’s gaze sharpened. “I know you don’t have, but you can find it for me.” There was an unspoken command hidden in his words, his eyes locking firmly with Karan’s.
Karan nodded slowly, then turned toward Priya’s desk. “Riya, check it in the company’s database.” His tone was lighter, almost casual, as if he trusted her abilities more than his own.
Priya didn’t flinch. She looked up, her expression calm, and replied, “I’ve already seen it, but there is nothing.” Her steady tone was a mask for the storm of fear swirling inside her.
Karan froze, his brows knitting together. “What?” His voice carried disbelief.
Confusion spread across his face as he strode toward her desk. He leaned over, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Let me check it,” he muttered, determination dripping from his voice. Priya sat still, her heart pounding so loudly it felt like the sound filled the room. Karan’s eyes widened after a few seconds of searching. His voice burst out with shock, “What the hell is this… I’m 100% sure that I entered it by myself.”
❁𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑❁
❀𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙!❀
♡ 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 ♡
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That plot twist completely caught me off guard, I loved it!
oh thanks