She was staring at me.

That same annoying, overly curious look that she always threw my way—but this time, something was off. Something was wrong. Her eyes were glassy, distant, unfocused, like she was watching the room collapse in slow motion.

I frowned, rising from my chair. "Avleen?"

She didn't respond. Instead, she stood from the sofa and staggered toward the window like it was the only place left to breathe. That's when I noticed it—her trembling fingers, the way her jaw clenched like she was holding back a scream. Her expression had shifted so quickly, from bright to blank, that I couldn't ignore it anymore.

"What happened?" I asked, walking closer.

She shook her head too quickly. "Nothing, sir."

Liar.

She was swaying slightly now, her hands brushing against the edge of the window as if anchoring herself. "Avleen, are you okay?" I asked again, more firmly.

"I'm fine," she whispered, eyes flickering toward me, then around the room. Her pupils were dilated. Her breaths—short, fast, ragged. Her body was fighting itself.

And then it hit me.

Claustrophobia.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. How the hell did I never notice?

"Sit down," I ordered gently, guiding her to the floor, away from the walls, from the ceiling that suddenly felt like it was pressing down on us both. I knelt beside her, forcing myself to stay calm.

"You're claustrophobic," I said quietly.

She looked at me, her eyes wide and teary, her lips quivering—and in that one glance, she confirmed it all. She wasn't hiding it anymore. Couldn't.

"Fuck..." I muttered under my breath, already reaching for the bottle of water on my desk. My hands moved fast but carefully, unscrewing the cap and helping her hold it. "Take a sip. Just a little. Come on, Avleen."

She struggled with the water bottle since her hands shook so badly. I made her drink water by gently holding her head and placing the bottle to her lips. I kept talking. I needed to keep her grounded.

"Look at me. You're doing fine, okay? Just keep breathing. You're not alone in here."

But it was getting worse—her chest rose and fell too fast, and her hand moved to clutch at it like she was trying to pull the pain out with her fingers. She rubbed her sternum frantically, her gasps loud and shallow like a fish stranded on dry land. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her lips turned pale.

"Shh... it's alright," I whispered, dabbing her forehead with my handkerchief, trying to ignore the storm rising in my own chest. She was falling apart in front of me, and I—Eshank Raisinghania—felt... helpless.

She was having a full-blown panic attack.

"Avleen," I called softly but firmly, "Talk to me. What do you need?"

"Get me out... please... I can't breathe... I can't..." she gasped.

"I know, I know, it's alright. I'm here." I reached forward, gently covering her eyes with my hand to block the spinning room. "You're safe. You're safe."

But her panic was climbing, not easing.

I didn't think twice—I pulled her into my arms, cradling her against my chest like she was something fragile, something that might shatter completely if I let go.

"Breathe, Avleen," I whispered into her hair. "Please. With me."

Her nails dug into my arm, clutching so tightly it left crescents in my skin. She was gasping and shaking and crying—but I didn't flinch. I didn't even feel the pain. My entire being was focused on one thing—her.

"I can't, sir," she whimpered. "It hurts. I can't bear it..."

"You can. You're strong. I know you are," I said quickly, desperately. I had to keep her here—present. Come on. Tell me... why do you call me Akdu Lamba Khamba?"

Even through her panic, her lips twitched.

"K... Kyun...ki aa...aap lambe hain...ak...akdu hain, kh...khambe ki tarah," she gasped.

(B-Because... y-you're tall... and cold... like a pole)

I let out a breath that might've been a laugh, maybe a sob. "That's offensive, you know."

She shook her head weakly. "Prr aapko suit...kar...karta hai..."

(But it suits... you perfectly.)

"Is that so?" I murmured, brushing strands of damp hair away from her face. "Alright then. Tell me more. What's your favorite food? Come on, just keep talking."

She blinked slowly. "Aloo paratha... with butter..."

I smiled. It was small. It was brief. But it was there. "Noted. Remind me ki main usko ban kardoon office cafeteria se."

(Remind me to ban it from the office cafeteria.)

"Y-You wouldn't dare..."

"Try me."

I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't made for this—comfort, softness, grounding someone like this. But with her in my arms, shaking, struggling, vulnerable... nothing else mattered.

Every part of me was screaming in alarm. She was still trembling, still on edge, but I kept talking. "Favorite movie? Game? Ice cream flavor?"

"Tom and Jerry... hide and seek... strawberry..." she whispered.

"Seriously?" I scoffed lightly. "Strawberry's for kids."

She smiled faintly. "You're boring..."

I didn't answer. My heart was in my throat. Her breathing was still uneven but steadier now. Her grip on my arm loosened ever so slightly.

And for the first time, I noticed something terrifying.

I was scared.

Not for me. Not for the company or my image or my reputation.

I was scared for her.

When had that happened?

When had she slipped beneath my skin like this?

Avleen—the clumsy, talkative, annoying girl who walked into my office with mismatched socks and nervous energy—had managed to wake something in me I thought I'd buried a long time ago.

Emotion.

She blinked again, slower this time, her head resting heavier against my shoulder. Her body finally giving in to exhaustion.

"No, no," I said softly, tightening my hold. "Stay with me, Avleen. Breathe. Deep breaths. In... out... with me, okay?"

And as she followed my lead, slowly, weakly, I exhaled with her.

"I'm not letting go," I promised under my breath.

And I meant it.

I held her close, whispering against her hair, "Inhale with me, sweetheart. Slowly. Just like that. One... two... now exhale. Shhh... just focus on my voice." Sweetheart?  I called her. I couldn't believe in myself. Sweetheart slipped so naturally from my tongue, but it still felt foreign.

I came out of my thoughts and looked at her. Her chest barely lifted. She was trying, but her body was drained.

"Come on, Avleen. Just a little more. You've got this. I'm right here."

My voice was steady, but my heart was a mess. Watching her like this—so fragile, so unlike herself—shook me in a way I couldn't even begin to explain.

"Come on, Avleen. Just a little more. You've got this. I'm right here." My voice was steady, but my heart was a mess. Watching her like this—so fragile, so unlike herself—shook me in a way I couldn't even begin to explain.

That's when I heard the sound—metal against wood. Tools clinking. Movement outside.

Someone was fixing the door.

I turned my head and shouted, "Do it faster! Right now!

Then I looked back at her, brushing away the sweat from her forehead again. Her body was barely holding on, but her hand still clutched my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

"Just a few more minutes, Avleen," I whispered. "I swear. Help's coming."

She blinked sluggishly, trying to fight the fog pulling her down. I could see her lips twitching—she wanted to speak. I needed her to speak.

"Do you... love breaking vases?" I asked suddenly, reaching for the first ridiculous memory I could grasp.

She blinked again, confused, dazed. "...I-I don't..." she mumbled, her voice hoarse. "Voh mere raaste mein....aa jaate hain....aur main unse takra jaati hoon....aur voh tut jaate hain. Mer...Meri galti nahi hai ismein." 

(They come in my way... and I stumble... and they break. It... It's not my fault.")

A breath of laughter slipped past my lips despite the situation. "Tum sabhi vases tod dena, theek hai. Just don't close your eyes, okay?"

(You can break all the vases, okay.)

Her eyes lifted to mine, glossy and wet, confused but searching.

"Why do you care... Mr... Mr. Rai Singhania?" She asked faintly, her voice cracking around my name.

I swallowed hard. "Because I found the perfect PA," I said, keeping my tone cool, even as something inside me fractured. "And I need her to keep working for me. Main salary pay karta hoon—vasoole bina jaane nahi dunga."

(Because I found the perfect PA. And I need her to keep working for me. I pay the salary—I won't let her go without paying.)

Her lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, even as another tear slid down her cheek.

I didn't waste another second. One hand still holding her steady, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and fired off a message.

Me to Dr. Khanna: Waiting lounge. Now.

The lock finally gave a loud click.

The door burst open.

I didn't wait.

Without a word, I scooped her into my arms. She didn't protest—she was too weak, her arms curling faintly against my chest like she was barely aware of the world anymore. Her cheek rested against my shoulder, her breaths still shallow.

I carried her out and strode through the corridor with everyone's stares burning into my back. I didn't care. Let them talk. Let them wonder.

The waiting lounge was quiet—too quiet.

Dr. Khanna stood waiting exactly where I'd told him to, eyes widening slightly at the sight of her in my arms.

I gently lowered Avleen onto the couch. Her head lolled to the side, but she was still breathing. Still here.

"Give her something to calm her system down. Fast," I said, not moving more than an inch away from her.

The doctor nodded and worked quickly, placing a tablet under her tongue, checking her pulse and breathing. Within minutes, her eyes fluttered closed—not from fear this time, but sleep. Her body finally gave in to the pull of calm.

I stood over her, my hands still curled into fists. I couldn't breathe properly either. Not yet.

"Boss?" a familiar voice called.

I turned.

Advik.

He walked in, his expression tight with concern as his eyes landed on the small figure resting on the couch.

"What happened to my little one?" he asked, kneeling down beside her and brushing the hair from her forehead like she was his younger sister. Infact, he considers her that. 

I exhaled slowly. "Panic attack," I said shortly. My voice was low, controlled—but it trembled in a way I didn't expect. "Claustrophobia. It hit her hard. I didn't know..."

Advik looked up at me, surprised.

Neither did I.

I didn't know how to explain the panic that had gripped me. Watching her suffocate in silence. Watching her unravel—and realizing that it mattered to me. That she mattered.

"I called the doctor. She's okay now... sedated."

Advik nodded slowly. "She's strong. But she should have told us about her phobia."

"I know she is strong. But It's not easy to share about one's fear so easily. Don't worry she is fine." I said firmly.

Advik nodded, "You are right, Boss. Especially with someone like her who is firecely independent," he said with slight quiver in his voice. 

I stood just a few feet away from the couch, arms crossed tightly against my chest, watching as Advik gently sat by Avleen's side. She looked so small curled up there, the tension in her face slowly dissolving under the influence of the sedative. I needed a minute. Just one goddamn minute to pull myself together.

I turned away and stepped outside the waiting lounge.

The corridor was quiet. Too quiet. The chaos had ended, but inside me... something still stirred. Something that wasn't right.... something is amiss in all this.... that was infront of me but I didn't see.... or should I say I never care to see.

Then it hit me. A thought so sudden and sharp, it stopped me mid-step.

Wait.

How the hell did she come to my office every single day...?

My office was on the thirtieth floor.

My eyes narrowed, the pieces falling together faster than I could breathe.

She's claustrophobic. She can't take the lift.

That means... she took the stairs. Every single morning. Thirty floors.

That's why she always looked breathless when she entered my office early. That's why she was always panting slightly, pressing a hand over her chest like she was recovering from a run.

Rage and guilt collided inside me in a flash of heat.

She climbed thirty floors. For me.

I need to make this right. This can't happen again with her. I can't let that happen..... but why? Why I am being restless? Why just this mere thought is making my stomach churn? 

Ughhh.....why the hell, I am thinking about these stupid questions when at the end I know I won't get any answers.

 Huff.... shrugging off all these thoughts, I pulled out my phone and called Rivan.

"Rivan."

"Yes, sir?"

"Shift my office to the first floor."

There was a beat of silence. "I—I'm sorry, sir?"

"You heard me," I snapped. "I want my entire office moved to the first floor today. Right now."

"Sir, what about—"

"No arguments," I growled. "Shift every damn thing. I want the employees currently on the first floor moved to the third. The second wing on that floor has enough space to accommodate them."

"Understood, sir. And your new office layout?"

"No solid walls. Replace one wall of my cabin with glass—clear glass. I want visibility. Same goes for Avleen's cabin. Her walls are to be glass too. I don't want her boxed in."

"Yes, sir," Rivan said, voice now firm and alert.

"One more thing," I added, turning back to glance at Avleen's sleeping form through the crack in the door, "Convert the top floor into my penthouse. I don't care how soon you have to start work—just do it."

"Yes, Mr. Rai Singhania."

I hung up without another word.

My fists remained clenched as I walked back to the lounge. I didn't know why I was doing all this. She was just... my PA.

Just a clumsy, loud, overly expressive, irritating woman who broke too many vases and had too many opinions.

But she climbed thirty floors every morning—panting, exhausted—just to do her job. To report to me. And she never said a damn word about it.

No complaint. No excuse.

And today... she broke down.

Because of a room I made her sit in.

I exhaled harshly, pressing a hand to my forehead.

What the hell was happening to me?

Why did I care?

"Boss?"

Advik's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up. He was standing near the couch, gently stroking Avleen's hair, his expression soft.

"You alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I nodded once, jaw tight. "Yeah. I just had some things to take care of."

Advik glanced at me knowingly but didn't press. "She's sleeping peacefully now. She'll wake up tired, but better."

"She's not climbing those stairs again," I muttered under my breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," I snapped, turning away. "Just make sure she rests. Don't let her move till the doctor says so."

"Noted," Advik said, smirking faintly. "You're changing, Eshank."

"I'm not," I replied instantly, walking off.

But even as I walked, her broken voice echoed in my head.

"I can't breathe, sir... it hurts..."

And I knew.

Even if I didn't want to admit it—

Something inside me had already shifted.

Hey lovelies, 

How are you all doing? I hope you all are doing great. Well your author is back with an update finally. Interesting things coming up, so don't miss the updates. Don't forget to vote, comment and share. For spoilers - Follow my Instagram account @writingsbymili. I would love to talk with you. You can DM me and share your opinions and suggestion regarding the book. Your review matters to me.  

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Mili