ADHURI KAHANI: A tale of an amnesic bond

45. THE DANGER

INAAYA'S POV

I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling the exhaustion from the day creeping in. The sun had set a while ago, and now the sky was swallowed by darkness, with the city lights twinkling in the distance. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Glancing at my phone, I saw the time-almost 5. Time to pack up and leave.

But I couldn't decide what to do. I had finished everything on today's to-do list, but part of me felt like staying longer. Since I'm leaving the secretary position soon, I want to make sure I finish as much work as possible so the next person doesn't have too much to handle. It would be responsible to stay back and do a bit of overtime, to clear some more tasks.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind for a moment, and decided to grab a snack before deciding whether to call it a day or continue working. The snack section on this floor had some really good options, but one in particular always caught my attention-Butterscotch ice cream. Technically, it wasn't exactly a snack, but it was my favorite, right after butterscotch boba, of course.

Anytime there's butterscotch involved, I'm in. I just really, really love the flavor. It's a bit of an obsession, honestly. No matter how tired I feel, the thought of that creamy, sweet-but-slightly-caramelly taste always brings a little excitement back into my day. I grab one every day from here-my daily treat.

I stood up from my chair, stretching my stiff muscles, and headed out. On my way, I noticed the light from the CEO's cabin still on. Through the glass walls, I could clearly see him deeply engrossed in a file. It's strange, honestly. Sometimes I wonder why he decided to replace the walls with glass. And even more curious-why he didn't put up curtains. For someone who, from what I've heard, valued his privacy so much, this felt like a complete breach of it.

Shrugging off the thought, I turned my focus back to my mission: grabbing that butterscotch ice cream from the small cafeteria.

Reaching the cafeteria, I opened the fridge and grabbed the last butterscotch ice cream. I couldn't help but hope they restock it tomorrow-I wouldn't survive the day without my daily fix. As soon as I tore off the wrapper and took that first lick, my eyes involuntarily closed, and a wave of satisfaction washed over me. The smooth, sweet flavor melted on my tongue, and I savored it for a second longer. Another lick. And then another. Before I knew it, I wasn't just eating the ice cream anymore-I was devouring it, lost in the pure bliss of butterscotch.

I was midway through devouring my ice cream when I heard footsteps approaching, stopping just behind me. My actions froze, and I slowly turned, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, as if I'd been caught stealing something precious. It was Sir. His hands rested casually in his pockets, his posture straight, with a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched me. I gulped, utterly embarrassed, realizing he had witnessed my desperate, almost ravenous, attack on the ice cream, like I hadn't eaten one in years.

"Should I make you some coffee, sir?"

He stepped forward, entering the cafeteria, and to my surprise, he laughed. Not just a smirk or a chuckle, but an actual laugh. I had never seen him laugh in all the time I've been at this company, so this was something new, even if he was probably laughing at me. His deep voice echoed in the room, reverberating off the walls, and I could feel my heart racing faster than usual. I gulped, but before I knew it, my own lips tugged upwards, and soon I was chuckling along with him.

He took a few more steps toward me, still laughing, and for a moment, everything else disappeared except the sound of our laughter.

"I'll make it for myself. Thank you"

He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed, but I barely registered his words. I felt him standing in front of me, likely making coffee for himself, while I was still recovering from our laughing session. He had stopped chuckling a few moments ago, but I was still lost in the memory of that laughter. Then, I felt it-a soft brush against the right corner of my lips. His thumb. It lingered there for just a moment, a fleeting connection, before it vanished as quickly as it had come. Had I really just imagined him touching me?