Rudra entered his apartment, closing the door softly behind him.
The space was calm, empty except for the faint hum of the city outside and the subtle ticking of the wall clock.
He moved through the motions automatically shedding his coat, loosening his tie, washing his face, brushing his teeth. Every step precise, controlled.
By the time he slid under the covers, his body finally relaxing, the day's tension still lingered like a shadow.
He closed his eyes, just for a moment, letting the silence envelope him.
Then…
Voicemail notification.
Rudra frowned. He didn't usually get calls from anyone especially not at this hour. His thumb hovered over the play button.
The faint, familiar voice filled the room:
"I know that it's hard, Rudra, but… I think you should go for the lunch and dinner…"
Rudra's chest tightened. The gentle concern, the soft insistence it wasn't like anyone else had ever cared for him this way. Not the employees. Not his family. Not even his own friends.
He didn't reply.
He just lay there, letting the words settle over him like a soft weight.
Another notification. Another voicemail.
"Anyways… I am always by your side… okay? Fighting, Rudra… goodnight."
The last words were soft, almost playful but carried with them a certainty he'd never known.
Rudra exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. His chest felt oddly full, tight in a way that wasn't suffocating more… alive.
He pressed the phone against his chest, as if feeling the warmth of Ayaan's voice could anchor him.
He didn't respond. He didn't text. He just let it sit there the small, comforting reassurance.
For the first time in months, maybe years, Rudra allowed himself to relax completely.
The quiet of his apartment was no longer empty it was filled with something softer, something he didn't have to control or fight.
He turned onto his side, curling slightly, and finally let sleep claim him.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew:
Ayaan would always be there.
Even if no one else ever had been.
The first streaks of sunlight cut through the blinds, falling across Rudra's apartment.
He lay there for a moment, rigid and quiet, staring at the ceiling. The day ahead loomed: his mother's lunch and dinner formal, stiff, and completely draining by the mere thought.
Rudra rolled over, finally sitting on the edge of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Every instinct in him screamed to avoid it, to stay in the calm cocoon of his apartment.
Then..... ping.
His phone lit up on the nightstand.
Good morning, Rudra. Don't forget to eat breakfast… and maybe smile once or twice? 😉
—A
Rudra's lips twitched. He didn't smile often not at work, not at home, and certainly not at anyone. But somehow, seeing that little winking face made his chest warm in a way he couldn't suppress.
He typed back, carefully measured:
I'm fine.
The reply was instant:
Sure you are… but if you stay stiff like a board, I'll come there and tickle you. Don't say I didn't warn you 😏
Rudra froze. His usual composed, cold self the one the world feared, felt a strange, unsteady flutter in his chest.
He groaned quietly, sitting back and running a hand down his face. Why did Ayaan have to be like this?
Minutes passed, and Rudra dressed in his crisp suit with automatic precision, but his mind kept wandering back to that message. The thought of Ayaan, soft, teasing, and unafraid to step into his world… it made him almost dizzy.
He grabbed his briefcase, adjusting his tie, muttering under his breath:
"Stop… just stop."
Ping. Another message.
And Rudra… don't forget --fighting today. I know you can do it. But don't forget to breathe too.
Rudra's fingers tightened around the strap of his briefcase. He exhaled slowly. No one had ever cared about him like this. No one had ever noticed the weight he carried daily.
He typed back, finally letting a hint of softness slip through:
…Noted.
The smile on his face was faint, reluctant, but it was there.
And for once, he didn't feel entirely alone as he walked out the door.
Ayaan's words, playful yet grounding, lingered in his mind a quiet reassurance that whatever the day held, someone was there for him.
And Rudra found that… it made even the most dreaded lunch with his mother feel slightly less suffocating.
Rudra sat in the backseat of his car, the city lights blurring past as his driver navigated the familiar streets. The morning traffic was calm, almost lazy, but Rudra's mind was busy the thought of the family lunch pressed against his chest like a heavy weight.
His phone buzzed quietly on the seat beside him.
He glanced down.
I know everything will be alright…
And message me when you get free… don't let me have wrinkles 😊
—A
For a fraction of a second, the usual rigid, composed expression he carried slipped.
He couldn't help it.
A small, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not wide. Not exaggerated. But there.
His driver, glancing at him in the rearview mirror for the first time that morning, noticed it. A brief, startled look crossed his face the CEO, always so cold, so untouchable, had just… smiled.
Rudra's eyes flicked back to the window, pretending he hadn't just betrayed himself to the world. But the warmth in his chest didn't vanish. Ayaan's words lingered, soft and teasing, cutting through the layers of steel he wrapped around himself.
He typed back carefully, his fingers steady despite the faint flutter in his chest:
…Noted. I will.
He set the phone down, hands folded on his lap, the smallest curve of his lips still betraying the private, quiet joy Ayaan had just given him.
For the first time that day maybe the first time in weeks Rudra felt like everything might actually… be alright.
Even if no one else in the car noticed, even if no one else in his life ever saw it, this small moment a tiny smile, a text from someone who cared was enough.
The driver cleared his throat lightly, unsure, and Rudra's lips twitched once more, almost a ghost of a smile, before he turned his gaze back to the streets ahead.