Facing the unexpected

Akash Pal stepped into the grand office of Sen Publishers, his mind heavy with unanswered questions. The soft murmur of discussions echoed through the polished corridors, the scent of fresh ink and old books lingering in the air. As he walked toward the meeting room, his eyes instinctively fell on the large glass wall that separated it from the rest of the office.

His steps slowed.

The room was filled—board members seated in their usual places, engaged in what appeared to be a lively discussion. But it wasn’t just the presence of the chamber members that made Akash pause. It was the figure occupying his seat.

A stranger.

Dressed in a well-tailored blazer, the young man sat with an air of quiet confidence. His hair was neatly groomed, slicked back with a touch of gel that gleamed under the soft office lighting. There was an ease to his posture, a natural charm that seemed to captivate the room.

Akash’s brows furrowed. That seat was his.

Not just any ordinary position—this was the membership Chitrakshi Sen had personally granted him as Managing Director of Sen Publishers, a recognition of his talent, his dedication, and his role in the company’s success. And now, in his absence, someone else had taken his place?

A flicker of unease stirred in his chest, but he pushed it aside and reached for the door handle. Without knocking, he stepped in.

The hum of voices quieted. Heads turned. But before Akash could speak, Bipin Sen, the patriarch of the family, raised a hand and said in a composed yet firm voice, “Please give us one minute, Akash.”

There was no room for argument in his tone.

Akash hesitated for a brief second before stepping back, allowing the door to close again. His fingers clenched into a fist at his side, his mind racing. Who was this man? And why was he—of all people—being given such importance?

From behind the transparent glass, Akash observed in silence.

The meeting continued. Laughter rippled through the room, subtle smiles exchanged between board members. There was an unmistakable enthusiasm in their expressions, a rare kind of energy he had never quite seen before in these usually somber gatherings. And at the heart of it all was the stranger.

Akash watched as the man stood to address the room. As he spoke, hands clapped, heads nodded in agreement, admiration clear in their eyes. It was as though he had effortlessly captured the attention—and perhaps even the approval—of the board.

The scene before Akash sent an unsettling feeling crawling down his spine.

Who was this man? Why was he here? And, more importantly—was he here to replace Akash?

A deep sense of insecurity settled in his chest, a whisper of something darker creeping into his thoughts. Chitrakshi had been distant. Avoiding him. And now, here was this stranger, taking the place that was once his, being welcomed into the fold as though he belonged.

Akash took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

But deep down, he knew—this was no coincidence.

Akash Pal stood outside the glass-walled chamber, his patience thinning with each passing second.

“One minute,” Bipin Sen had said. But the minute had stretched far beyond that, turning into an agonizing wait. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, watching the meeting unfold, the easy camaraderie between the members, the way their attention remained fixated on him—the stranger. The name was still unknown to Akash, but the presence of the man was beginning to carve an unsettling weight in his chest.

Finally, the door opened.

“Akash, please come in,” Bipin Sen called.

Summoning composure, Akash stepped inside. The room was alive with chatter, the air thick with an energy that was strangely foreign to him. As he walked in, he noticed something peculiar—several members were congratulating the young man, patting him on the back, their voices warm with approval.

“All the best, Kiaan Roy sir,” they said, one after another.

Akash’s gaze lingered on the man—the very same one who had taken his seat. Kiaan Roy. There was no mistaking the admiration in the eyes of those around him. He was young, effortlessly charismatic, and undeniably well-dressed. His presence radiated an easy charm, the kind that could win people over without even trying.

Bipin Sen cleared his throat, drawing Akash’s attention.

“Akash!” Bipin said with his usual authoritative calm. “Meet Mr. Kiaan Roy, my daughter Chitrakshi’s best friend and our new board member.”

Akash felt the words like a slow blow to his chest.

“Best friend?” The phrase echoed in his mind, but before he could process it, Bipin continued—his voice steady, yet carrying a finality that sent a chill through Akash’s spine.

“Kiaan is going to help Chitrakshi in your place.”

The world tilted slightly.

Akash barely heard the rest of the sentence. In that very moment, something else caught his attention—something whispered in hushed tones among the board members. It was subtle, meant to be unheard, yet it reached him like a sharp whisper against a silent night.

“Ex-boyfriend of Chitrakshi Sen.”

The words sent a cold shiver through his veins.

Akash’s breath hitched. His pulse quickened.

He shifted his gaze to Chitrakshi, who sat composed, her expression unreadable. She had not looked at him once since he had entered the room.

A thousand questions stormed his mind, but one rose above the rest.

Why had neither Chitrakshi nor Bipin informed him of this decision?

His role—his position—had been quietly handed over to this man, and he had been left in the dark.

A sense of betrayal, raw and unspoken, coiled in his chest.

Uninvited guest 

The air in the boardroom felt heavier than before, thick with something unspoken. Akash Pal stood there, his presence seemingly an afterthought in a room that once held a place for him. The laughter and camaraderie from moments ago had dulled, leaving only an uncomfortable silence that wrapped itself around him like an unwelcome shadow.

Chitrakshi Sen, seated gracefully across the long table, finally turned her gaze towards Kiaan Roy. There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but she masked it quickly. Her voice, smooth yet distant, broke through the stillness.

“Roy, he is Mr. Akash Pal.”

That was all she said. No warmth. No familiarity. No acknowledgment of who he truly was in her life.

Akash’s fingers curled slightly at his sides. The omission was small, yet it landed like a quiet storm within him.

Before he could react, Bipin Sen’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension with a sharp precision.

“Chitrakshi Sen! You forgot to mention that Akash Pal is your fiancé—your would-be husband.”

The words felt deliberate, as though Bipin sensed the weight of what had been left unsaid and refused to let it slip unnoticed. His gaze rested on his daughter, expectant.

For a brief second, Chitrakshi’s composed expression faltered. But then, as if rehearsed, she let out a short, almost dismissive laugh and turned to Kiaan with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Dad, Roy knows everything.”

Her voice carried an edge of impatience, but it was the smile—the practiced, almost forced curve of her lips—that struck Akash the hardest. It was the kind of smile one gave to a guest who had overstayed their welcome, the kind that masked an unspoken truth.

For the first time, Akash Pal felt like a stranger in a place where he once belonged.

The moment stretched between them, charged with an unspoken tension that only Akash Pal seemed to feel. The board members had gone back to their usual discussions, but to him, the world had shrunk to just three people—Chitrakshi, Kiaan, and himself.

Then, Chitrakshi rose from her chair, smoothing the creases in her saree with effortless grace. She barely glanced at Akash before saying in a clipped tone, “Let’s go! We have a lot of things to do.”

There was no warmth in her voice, no hint of the affection he once thought belonged to him. She spoke to him as if he were a mere colleague, not the man whose name was being linked to hers for marriage.

But before walking away, she turned once more—this time to Kiaan Roy. Her lips curled into an easy smile, one that Akash hadn’t seen directed at him in what felt like ages.

“Once again, I congratulate you. All the best, Roy. I know you can do a better job than Akash.”

The words landed like a blade, precise and merciless.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Kiaan Roy’s sharp eyes. He leaned back slightly, offering Chitrakshi a small, knowing smile before replying, “I will try, Chitra.”

That name.

“Chitra.”

It slipped from his lips with the ease of someone who had said it a thousand times before, someone who knew exactly how it would sound when spoken aloud. A name that belonged to their past, their history—something Akash was never a part of.

A dull ache settled in Akash’s chest. He was no fool.

This wasn’t just a friendly reunion.

Something deeper lay beneath the surface, something he had not been prepared for. And as he followed Chitrakshi out of the room, one thought burned in his mind—was he truly the man meant to stand by her side, or was he merely a placeholder for someone she had never truly let go of?

As Chitrakshi Sen and Akash Pal stepped out of the meeting room, the air between them carried an unspoken tension, the kind that lingered like an unfinished conversation. Just as they reached the corridor, Chitrakshi suddenly paused.

“One sec,” she murmured, her voice light yet decisive.

Before Akash could respond, she turned on her heel and walked back into the meeting room, leaving him standing there. Frowning slightly, he watched through the transparent glass wall as she approached Kiaan Roy. And then, to his utter astonishment, she wrapped her arms around him in a brief but unmistakably affectionate embrace.

Akash’s fingers tightened around the file he was holding. His heartbeat slowed, heavy and deliberate, as the words he had overheard earlier echoed in his mind. Chitra. Roy. Her ex-boyfriend.

By the time Chitrakshi returned and they both slipped into the car, the moment had already set deep within him like an unwanted seed. The car’s interior was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of the city beyond the windshield. Akash didn’t speak. He simply stared out of the window, his expression unreadable, his mind replaying the scene over and over.

Chitrakshi stole a glance at him as she steered the car through the streets. The silence stretched between them, growing thicker with every second. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke it.

“Akash?” Her voice was soft yet probing. “Are you okay?”

His lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. Then, with forced composure, he replied, “I’m all okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

A faint crease appeared on her brow as she turned to him briefly before refocusing on the road. “What happened to me? I’m fine. Why would you ask me that?” Her tone had an edge to it now, a subtle wariness.

Akash let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “I was trying to reach you,” he said, his voice measured but laced with something unspoken. “You didn’t reply to my messages properly. I waited for your call, but you never called me back. And when I tried calling you, your phone was busy—multiple times.”

Chitrakshi remained silent, her gaze fixed ahead.

“If you were busy, all you had to do was text me and say, ‘Akash, I’m busy, I’ll call you later.’ That’s it. I would’ve understood. But you didn’t,” he continued, his voice now carrying the weight of disappointment. He turned to look at her, searching her face for something—anything—that could explain the distance he was beginning to feel.

A pause. Then, more quietly, he asked, “Am I boring to you, Chitrakshi? Or is there something else?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she picked up her phone, her fingers moving over the screen as if the conversation didn’t concern her. Her face remained impassive, her attention seemingly elsewhere.

Akash watched her, his chest tightening. She was shutting him out, and he could feel it. The silence between them was no longer just a pause—it was a wall.

And he had no idea how to break through it.

The drive to the shopping mall was quiet—too quiet. The only sounds were the rhythmic clicking of Chitrakshi Sen’s fingers against her phone screen and the occasional honk of traffic outside. Akash Pal sat beside her, his gaze flickering between her and the passing streets, his thoughts entangled in a web of doubt.

Something had changed. He could feel it.

Since the moment they left the meeting room, she had been distant—her attention drawn not to him, but to the glowing screen in her hands. She hadn’t once looked at him, not even when he tried to engage her in conversation. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable; it was heavy, thick with unspoken words.

When they reached the mall, Akash was the first to step out of the car and pulled open the door for Chitrakshi, the way he always did—a small act of chivalry he never failed to offer. But even then, she barely acknowledged him. She stepped out with her eyes still glued to her phone, fingers typing away, a faint smile curving her lips at whatever was on the screen.

Akash’s chest tightened.

He had been watching her, trying to find some trace of warmth in her eyes, some sign that everything was fine between them. But she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Not once.

As they walked into the mall, Akash’s mind swirled with restless thoughts. His footsteps felt heavier, his heart weighed down by an unease he couldn’t shake off.

Had he done something wrong?

Had his family?

He turned to her, his voice low but insistent. “Chitrakshi… did I do something wrong?”

She didn’t respond.

“Did my family say something to your father?” he tried again, his voice edged with worry.

Still, she gave him nothing.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. A soft chime rang as the doors closed, enclosing them in a small, mirrored space. Akash turned to her again, searching her face for answers.

“Chitrakshi—”

“Hush,” she cut him off, not even glancing up from her phone. “Be quiet. We’re in the elevator.”

Her voice was calm, dismissive. As if his concerns were trivial. As if they didn’t matter.

Akash swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He watched as she continued to type, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. The sight of that smile, meant for someone else, gnawed at him.

It wasn’t just her silence that disturbed him. It was the way she had changed.

Never before had she been this engrossed in her phone when they were together. Never before had she ignored his questions as if he were a stranger. Their relationship had blossomed from a deep friendship, built over months of conversations, laughter, and understanding. And yet, in a matter of hours, it felt like she had become someone he no longer recognized.

Akash’s thoughts spiraled, connecting the dots, searching for a reason behind her coldness.

Kiaan Roy.

The name burned in his mind like an ember refusing to fade. Could he be the reason for her strange behavior? The way she had embraced Kiaan back in the meeting room—so easily, so naturally—was now an image Akash couldn’t erase. Was she reminiscing about her past with him? Had he somehow found his way back into her heart?

A deep silence filled the elevator as it ascended, broken only by the soft chime of incoming messages on Chitrakshi’s phone.

And then, without warning, she lifted her head and stared at Akash.

Her gaze was piercing, unblinking.

There was no anger in her eyes, nor was there affection. Just an unreadable intensity, like she was searching for something within him that she wasn’t sure she would find.

Akash held her gaze, waiting—hoping—that she would finally speak.

But just as suddenly as she had turned to him, she looked away.

As if he didn’t exist.

As if they were nothing.

Akash felt a cold emptiness settle within him, a stark contrast to the warmth he had once known in her presence. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain silent. He had always believed that love was built on understanding, on trust. But now, standing beside her in that small elevator, he realized something unsettling.

Sometimes, the most painful distance wasn’t measured in miles.

It was measured in silence.

The shopping mall buzzed with life—couples strolling hand in hand, groups of friends laughing, children tugging at their parents’ hands in excitement. The air carried the faint scent of expensive perfume and freshly pressed fabrics. But for Akash Pal, none of it mattered.

What should have been an enjoyable outing felt more like an endurance test.

As they moved from one boutique to another, Akash watched as Chitrakshi Sen scanned the racks with practiced ease. She picked out dresses, skirts, accessories—one item after another. And each time, she turned to him, holding up a dress against her frame, tilting her head slightly with a casual, almost detached curiosity.

“How is it for me?” she would ask.

At first, Akash responded earnestly. He took his time, assessing the choices, picturing how each fabric would complement her. But every suggestion he made—every approval, every hesitation—was met with the same result.

She didn’t care.

If he liked a dress, she dismissed it with a simple “Hmm” before putting it back on the rack. If he didn’t like something, she smirked, shrugged, and took it straight to the cashier.

It was as if his opinion didn’t matter at all.

After the third or fourth time, Akash felt a tightness creep into his chest. His hands slipped into his pockets as he watched her move through the store, selecting pieces he had clearly shown disinterest in.

His presence here—was it even necessary?

He followed her, his expression unreadable, but inside, his thoughts twisted into knots. The ease with which she disregarded him gnawed at him, adding fuel to the frustration already simmering beneath the surface.

Hadn’t she once cared about his opinions? About what he thought?

It wasn’t about the clothes—it never was. It was about how effortlessly she seemed to erase his presence, how she was here with him, yet so far away.

When they reached the checkout counter, Chitrakshi handed over the pile of clothes she had chosen, barely sparing Akash a glance. He stood beside her in silence, his gaze drifting over the vibrant bags, the neatly folded purchases—each one a reminder of how little his voice had mattered today.

As the cashier handed her the bill, Chitrakshi glanced at her phone once again, typing something quickly before slipping it back into her purse.

Akash swallowed the lump in his throat.

Shopping had never been a big deal to him. But today, it felt like something more.

It felt like a metaphor for everything that was shifting between them—like he was being edged out of a space he once belonged in.

And the worst part?

She didn’t even notice.

The drive back to Chitrakshi’s home was as quiet as their shopping had been. The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city lights flickering past the windshield like silent witnesses to the growing distance between them. Akash Pal kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead, but his mind was anything but still.

Chitrakshi sat beside him, her attention once again drifting to her phone, her fingers typing away with effortless ease. Every now and then, she let out a soft chuckle at whatever conversation was unfolding on her screen.

Akash, on the other hand, could feel the weight of the evening pressing down on him. The unanswered questions. The cold dismissals. The way she had shut him out without a second thought.

When they finally pulled up in front of her house, Akash exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that had settled in his chest. He turned slightly, forcing a small smile. “Good night, Chitrakshi.”

She looked at him then, her expression unreadable. And for a brief moment, just as she was about to step out, she hesitated. Then, turning back to face him, she said, “Akash Pal, from tomorrow, you don’t have to come to the office.”

Akash blinked, taken aback. His lips parted as he instinctively began to ask, But why—

Before he could finish, she smoothly continued, closing the small pause between her words as if anticipating his question.

“Directly come and pick me up from home.”

Her tone was light, casual, as if she were merely adjusting a minor routine, but something about it felt… deliberate. As if she didn’t want to hear his questions, let alone answer them.

Akash’s brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, though his mind was far from settled.

Chitrakshi lingered for just a second longer, then turned without another word, walking up the steps to her house. Akash watched her disappear behind the grand doors, the soft glow of the porch light casting long shadows against the pavement.

A deep sigh escaped his lips.

Something was shifting between them.

And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for where it was leading.