Aarohi’s POV
The days after the event passed in a blur of emails, calls, and back-to-back client meetings.
The Blue Fern showcase had done what it promised. The buzz hadn't died down — instead, it surged. The media coverage brought in three solid new leads, one of which turned into a confirmed client by the second evening. Investors who’d once kept their distance were now “keen to collaborate.” The designs spoke for themselves, but Aarohi knew the way it had all come together — the precision, the elegance — played just as big a role.
For the first time in weeks, she let herself take a breath.
On the third day, she told her assistant not to schedule anything and stayed home.
No emails. No calls. No makeup. No heels.
She stayed in her oversized shirt, hair tied in a loose bun, and made herself a simple dinner — tomato soup and garlic toast. That night, she finally opened the book she'd been meaning to finish for two months. She lost track of time, curled on the sofa with a light blanket, the last few pages of the novel pulling her deeper into silence.
It was almost midnight.
The city outside had gone still.
The only sound in her apartment was the soft turning of pages... until suddenly—
Click.
Aarohi froze.
The sound of the door unlocking broke the quiet like a dropped glass.
She turned, her heart skipping. Who—
Before she could even process, a voice called out, “Surprise!”
The lights flicked on.
Her eyes widened.
Her younger sister stood in the doorway with a giant cake box in hand. Behind her, her mother grinned while holding her favorite lilies. And trailing in after them — her best friend Meher, and two more familiar faces from college — Krish and Ishaan , both wearing silly party hats.
Aarohi blinked, still holding the book.
“I told you she’d be in her pajamas,” Meher laughed, stepping in.
Aarohi stood slowly, still a little stunned. “What... what are you all doing here?”
Her sister smirked. “It’s technically your birthday in five minutes, Miss ‘I don’t celebrate.’ So we brought the party to you.”
Aarohi opened her mouth to protest, but then Meher walked forward and pulled her into a hug, tight and warm.
“Just this once,” she whispered. “Let yourself be celebrated.”
Aarohi didn’t say anything right away. But something about the quiet joy in the room — the smell of flowers, the sparkle in her sister’s eyes, the laughter that followed — melted the usual hesitation.
She smiled.
Just this once.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
---
The morning after the surprise celebration began with a lazy stretch and sunlight slipping through her curtains.
Her parents had already packed and left early for a family function out of town. Anaya, her sister, had stayed back. “I’m not missing birthday lunch,” she declared, stealing the last slice of cake from the fridge.
By afternoon, Aarohi sat at a rooftop café, sunlight catching in her hair as she laughed softly with her favorite people — Meher, Krish, Ishaan, and of course, Anaya.
The place had soft jazz playing, little fairy lights wrapped around the balcony railing, and a view of the city that made it feel far away from reality.
They had ordered too much food — as always. Laughter came easily with this group.
Krish leaned back dramatically, patting his stomach. “I swear that brownie just changed my life.”
“That's the fourth time you’ve said that today,” Ishaan teased, tossing a napkin at him.
Meher handed Aarohi a small envelope. “For later. And don’t say ‘no gifts’ again — it’s barely a gift.”
Aarohi smiled as she took it. “You’re all ridiculous.”
Anaya, sitting beside her, raised a brow. “Says the girl who just made us all wear birthday badges.”
“That was Meher’s idea!”
They all laughed again. And for a moment, Aarohi forgot everything else. Forgot the pressure, the loneliness, the ache she sometimes buried deep.
After the plates were cleared and the conversations had quieted into lazy post-lunch chatter, Aarohi stood.
“I need a break — washroom,” she said, brushing her dress lightly.
“Don’t fall in,” Krish called after her.
Aarohi walked down the quiet hallway, the music fading behind her. She washed her hands slowly, letting the cold water soothe the heat rising up her neck. The mirror showed no sign of panic, but inside, her chest felt heavier than before.
She stepped out of the washroom—
And froze.
There, leaning casually against the wall, was Riaan.
Tall. Familiar. Unwelcome.
“Aarohi,” he said, like her name was a memory he still owned.
Her stomach dropped, but her face stayed still. “What are you doing here?”
“I had a client meeting downstairs,” he said, eyes scanning her face. “I saw you. I— I had to talk to you.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t.”
“I know I messed up,” he continued, stepping closer, “but I’ve changed. And if there’s even a small chance—”
“Stop,” she said sharply, already feeling her pulse rising.
“I’ve thought about you every day since we ended,” he said softly, voice almost trembling now. “I still do.”
Aarohi blinked, but her tears didn’t fall.
She looked him dead in the eyes and said:
“You don’t get to break me and then ask for the pieces like they still belong to you.”
Riaan went quiet.
The hallway stretched in silence.
“You taught me how to walk away from someone I loved,” she added, voice softer now. “Don’t forget that.”
She turned and walked away before he could say another word.
Her heels echoed down the hall like a full stop — loud and final.
---
Back at the table, Meher noticed the change in her immediately. So did Anaya.
“You okay?” Meher asked gently.
Aarohi nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
She didn’t speak of Riaan.
Some things were better left in silent corners of the past — and today wasn’t for him.
It was for her.
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