can you mend the broken✓(Editing)

11 : JEALOUS?

The glass doors of the corporate office parted with a soft hiss as Shehnaaz and Zain stepped inside. The chilled air-conditioning brushed against her skin, making her shiver slightly, not from the cold, but from a strange unease bubbling in her chest. The lobby was polished to perfection, the floors gleaming like mirrors, and the hum of conversations and clinking footsteps echoed softly around them. Everything felt too quiet in her head, though.

A young client in a blue suit approached and politely directed them toward the conference hall. As they moved through the long corridor, Shehnaaz’s pace slowed. Her pulse, calm a moment ago, began to drum louder in her ears. Her breaths grew shallow.

He was here. Somewhere nearby.

The walls of her chest felt like they were closing in. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to push the thought away. She bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers curling tightly around the strap of her bag. But her heart was already whispering his name, Sidharth.

No matter how far she had run, no matter how many nights she had spent trying to forget, her heart remembered only him.

As they stepped into the conference hall, filled with murmuring clients and the dull rustle of papers, her eyes scanned the room, casually at first. Until she saw him.

Time slowed.

Sidharth stood near the far end of the room. He wasn’t the same man she remembered, at least not physically. His face had lost its youthful glow, his skin was pale, and beneath his eyes sat shadows of sleepless nights. But it was his eyes that held her still. They were glassy, moist, as if he’d been holding back tears. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that could save him.

She blinked, confused. This was the man who had never cried for her. The one who had walked away without a word.

Why did he look broken now?

Her heart clenched painfully.

Across the room, Sidharth took a step forward.

_____

He had known it. From the moment he woke up that morning, there had been a pull in his chest, a strange certainty in his bones, they would meet today.

And then came the call.

His PA had sounded hesitant, like the news would break something.

“She came to Mumbai, sir , for a meeting.”

The words echoed in his ears like the opening of long-locked doors.

Shehnaaz. In Mumbai.

Excitement surged through him, so raw and intense that he had to sit down. He asked where. When. Why. And the moment he had his answer, he made a plan, because he knew she would never willingly meet him.

He dressed in haste, heart hammering in anticipation. After five years, he would see her.

He reached the conference room an hour early, hoping she might arrive ahead of time. She didn’t. He waited, checking his watch every five minutes, his stomach a coiling mess of nerves and hunger. Eventually, he stepped out briefly to grab a sandwich. And that’s when he saw her.

She walked in with a man.

They were laughing.

Sidharth’s breath caught, the sandwich forgotten in his hand. His jaw clenched. That laugh, her laugh—it used to belong to him. That comfort in her body language, that shine in her eyes, it was once his. And now she had given it to someone else.

He wanted to rip that moment apart. To grab her and demand why she looked so at ease with another man. But all that rage vanished when their eyes met.

Her gaze held him still.