The glass windows of the office were streaked with heavy rain, and the sky had turned a gloomy shade of grey. Aratrika was busy organizing her new desk when the intercom buzzed with a sharp, familiar tone.
Aryan's Voice: "Aratrika, my office. Now."
She hurried in, mentally checking if she had made any mistakes in the morning reports. Aryan was standing by the window, his back to her.
Aryan: "We need to visit the project site at Mr. Rahman's new duplex. My car is waiting downstairs. You have five minutes."
"But Sir, it's pouring outside!" Aratrika protested, looking at the torrential rain.
Aryan: (Turning around, his expression cold as usual) "I'm aware of the weather, Aratrika. That's why we're taking a car and not a walk in the park. Now, move."
The DriveThe drive was strangely quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of the rain against the roof and the steady swish-swish of the windshield wipers. Aryan was focused on the road, his hands steady on the steering wheel. Aratrika stared out the window, watching the city blur into watery streaks of light.
Aryan: (Breaking the silence suddenly) "I hope your shoes are properly fixed today? Or am I going to have to carry my lead designer through the mud?"
Aratrika: (Blushing instantly, remembering her broken heel) "My sneakers are perfectly fine, Sir. I'm quite capable of walking on my own."
The Blue UmbrellaWhen they reached the site, the rain hadn't let up. The path from the car to the main gate was narrow and muddy. Aryan reached into the back seat and pulled out a large, sturdy blue umbrella.
Aryan: (Opening the umbrella with a snap) "Get under here. Unless you plan on catching a fever and delaying my project."
Aratrika: "I'll be fine, Sir. I can just run for it."
Aryan: (Sighing with annoyance) "Don't be stubborn. It's a fifty-meter walk through a downpour. Get in here. That's an order."
Aratrika stepped closer, moving under the wide blue canopy. The space was tight. To keep her from getting soaked, Aryan instinctively reached out and pulled her slightly closer by the shoulder.
Aratrika froze for a second. She could smell his cologne—a sophisticated mix of sandalwood and the fresh scent of rain. Up close, the 'arrogant boss' didn't seem quite so intimidating.
The wind blew a spray of water toward them, and Aryan tilted the umbrella further over her, letting his own shoulder get wet.
Aratrika: "Sir, you're getting wet."
Aryan: (Without looking at her, his voice low) "Focus on where you're stepping, Aratrika. I can handle a little rain. I just can't handle another coffee stain or a sick employee."
For those few minutes, the rest of the world vanished. There was no office, no stress, and no ego—just two people walking through a storm, shielded by a single blue umbrella.