She typed steadily, examining how cinema portrayed class and identity.
Her phone buzzed near midnight, lighting up her small corner.
She picked it up without thinking.
Vikram: Schedule change tmrw. Need to move first meeting to 7 not 8. Press showing up early. Can you coordinate?
Her fingers responded automatically: Okay, Boss. Will handle it.
The message delivered. Read. No reply. Transaction complete.
She stared at the screen. His name felt out of place here, between chipped paint and a too-thin curtain that let in streetlight and sound.
Why did a schedule update feel personal? It wasn’t. It was logistics.
Her phone buzzed again.
Vikram: Thanks. Car at 6 then.
She stared at the word. Thanks. He didn’t need to say it. He usually didn’t.
“Stop it,” she whispered, placing the phone down harder than necessary. “It’s just a text.”
But now she was aware, too aware, that somewhere across the city, Vikram was awake too.
And tomorrow at seven, she would be there with him. Again.
She saved her thesis and closed the laptop.
Soon she would return fully to her own world. Clear boundaries. No one whose name made her heart skip at midnight.
She changed into her old cotton nightgown and switched off the lamp. Streetlight filtered through the curtain, pale and uneven.
She lay down on the narrow bed.
Her last thought wasn’t about the meeting moved to seven. It was about last week, when she had solved something complicated and he had looked at her differently for a second.
“You’re really good at this, Divya.”
His voice had been quieter. Warmer.
She had filed that moment away as she filed everything else. A professional compliment. Nothing more.
But lying in the dark, she let herself remember it one more time before sleep claimed her.
Just once.
Then she’d forget again tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Two Months Later
Vikram waited until his house was quiet before making the call. He checked his watch. 11:00 PM. Normally, he wouldn’t call anyone this late, but he knew Divya was likely still awake, buried in her textbooks or double-checking his schedule for the tenth time.
She picked up on the second ring. “Yes, Boss?”
No irritation. No sleep-heavy voice.