Kavya.

The private elevator hummed a low, mechanical tune as it shot up thirty floors above the Mumbai skyline, but it did nothing to drown out the frantic drumming of my heart. I clutched the handle of my dripping umbrella, my knuckles white, staring blindly at the changing digital numbers above the polished steel doors. The storm outside had intensified again, battering the glass shaft of the high-rise with angry sheets of rain.

When the elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open directly into Aryan's penthouse foyer, my breath caught in my throat.

The apartment was sprawling, sleek, and bathed in the muted, stormy gray light filtering in from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Arabian Sea. It was beautiful, but it felt terrifyingly cold. I stepped off the marble tile and onto the plush living room rug, leaving my umbrella in the brass stand by the door.

He was standing by the glass expanse, looking out at the churning water. He had changed out of his rumpled t-shirt into a dark button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. At the sound of my heels clicking against the floor, he turned around.

The moment his eyes landed on me, the air in the room seemed to evaporate. His gaze tracked from the emerald silk of my blouse up to my face, heavy with an intensity that pinned me to the spot. I had spent the entire car ride here practicing a speech, reminding myself to demand answers, to not let him avoid the morning's disaster. But looking at him now, every single word evaporated from my mind.

"You came," he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the rain lashing against the glass.

"You told me to," I replied, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. The trembling in my knees was back. "Though after you literally ran away from my apartment this morning, I wasn't entirely sure what I was walking into."

He winced, a flash of genuine pain crossing his features. He closed the distance between us in three long strides, stopping just inches away. The scent of sandalwood and rain washed over me, instantly making my pulse skyrocket.

"I am so sorry I walked out, Kav," he breathed, his voice raw. He reached out, his hands hovering tentatively in the air before he gently wrapped his fingers around my wrists, pulling my crossed arms down. The warmth of his touch sent a shockwave straight to my chest. "I panicked. You completely rewired my entire universe in the span of thirty seconds, and I panicked."

"Aryan—"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted gently, his thumbs tracing slow, mesmerising circles over my pulse points. "I didn't run away because I didn't want to hear it. I ran away because if I stayed in that room for one second longer, I would have kissed you until neither of us could breathe, and I knew you deserved a better plan than that."

Aryan.

I watched the shock ripple across her face, her beautiful, gold-flecked eyes widening in pure disbelief. Her pulse was hammering wildly beneath my thumbs.

I let go of her wrists and stepped back, just enough to reach the glass dining table. I picked up the printed relocation contract and the laptop sitting next to it, turning the screen so she could see the glowing email draft I had just hit send on.

"When you told me you loved me," I started, keeping my eyes locked on hers, "my first instinct was to tear this contract up. To stay. Because I have been so hopelessly, irreversibly in love with you for years that the thought of getting on a plane without you felt like a physical death sentence."

Kavya let out a fractured gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

"I loved you when we were cramming for exams, I loved you when you got your first promotion, and I loved you last night when you were aggressively taping up my cardboard boxes to avoid looking at me," I confessed, the truth finally spilling out of me like a flood. "It's always been you, Kavya. Always."

Tears immediately spilled over her lower lashes, tracking silently down her cheeks. She took a step toward me, but I held up a hand, my expression turning serious.

"But I didn't tear up the contract," I told her quietly.

She froze, a sudden, terrifying vulnerability flashing in her eyes. "You didn't?"

"No." I closed the laptop, the sharp click echoing in the quiet penthouse. "Because building this career is part of who I am, just like your architecture and your corporate strategy are part of you. If I gave this up right now out of sheer panic, I would be changing the foundation of who we are. I am still going to San Francisco."

I watched the words hit her. She swallowed hard, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch, the strategist in her brain immediately calculating the impossible odds of a ten-thousand-mile gap.

Before the doubt could fully settle in her eyes, I closed the distance between us, framing her face in both of my hands. I brushed the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs, forcing her to look up at me.

"I am going to San Francisco," I repeated, my voice fierce and absolute. "But I just emailed the VP of Product. I told them my terms have changed. I am taking the position, but I am working from Mumbai for two weeks out of every month for the first year. And the company is covering the flights."

Her breath hitched, her eyes searching mine frantically. "Aryan, they could fire you for demanding that."

"They won't. They need me to launch the new software suite, and frankly, I don't care if they do," I said fiercely. "Because no job, no title, and no city is worth losing you. I am going to build my team there, but my life, my anchor, and my heart are staying right here."

Kavya.

The world stopped spinning. The anxiety, the dread, the suffocating fear of the last three weeks simply vanished, completely incinerated by the absolute certainty in his eyes.

He wasn't leaving me behind. He was building a bridge.

"You demanded a bi-continental schedule for me?" I whispered, a watery, disbelieving laugh escaping my lips.

"I would demand the moon if you asked for it," Aryan replied, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly whisper. His gaze dropped to my lips, the agonising restraint he had been fighting for years finally snapping. "I asked you to wait tonight because I needed to make sure I wasn't just giving you a confession. I needed to give you a future. Are you willing to try this with me? The flights, the time zones, the chaos?"

I didn't need to analyse the variables. I didn't need a spreadsheet or a risk assessment matrix. I looked at the man who knew my soul better than he knew his own, the boy I had loved in secret for a decade, and the answer was the easiest one I had ever calculated.

"Yes," I breathed, sliding my hands up his chest to grip the lapels of his shirt. "A thousand times yes."

Aryan let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan, and pulled me flush against him. His mouth crashed down on mine, and it felt like the entire city of Mumbai went completely dark, leaving only the two of us burning in the centre of it.

The kiss was desperate, messy, and twenty-one years overdue. It tasted like rain and salt and absolute inevitability. My hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the floor. I clung to him, the remaining tension leaving my body in a dizzying rush of pure, unadulterated relief.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air, he rested his forehead against mine. His chest heaved against my own, a brilliant, blinding smile breaking across his face—the easygoing, radiant smile I thought I was going to lose forever.

"So," he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheekline. "Do you think you can handle packing up my boxes now without yelling at me?"

"Don't push your luck, Mehra," I laughed, wiping a stray tear from my jaw. "I'm still keeping your favourite hoodie."

"Keep it," he said, smiling, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You're going to need it when you come visit me in California."