Isha
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As the shrill sound of the fire alarm pierces through the usual lobby chatter, I instinctively join the stream of apartment residents making their way to the emergency exits. It's just a drill, a regular reminder of the high-rise protocols, yet the sudden disruption on an otherwise calm Thursday morning irks me. Mrs. Desai, my neighbor with her armful of bangles clinking melodically, grabs onto me as if the practice alarm signals real danger.
"Always at the worst time," I murmur, adjusting the heavy strap of my laptop bag as we shuffle towards the stairwell. Mrs. Desai nods vigorously, her expression a mix of annoyance and compliance.
Navigating the crowded stairwell, I notice how varied the reactions are—some are panicked, others annoyed, and a few like me, resigned. That's when I spot him—Aarav Singh—two flights below, managing the flow of people with a calm authority. Despite owning the building and living just a few floors up from me, our interactions have been limited to polite nods. Yet here he is, involved and directive, ensuring safety with an ease that contradicts the aloof persona I usually attribute to him.
Our paths converge on the landing, and our eyes meet briefly—a silent acknowledgment amidst the chaos. His nod is subtle, but it stirs a flutter of curiosity within me.
"Careful on these steps," Aarav's voice cuts through my reverie, just as I nearly miss a step. His hand is quick to steady me, surprisingly warm against the coolness of the situation.
"Thanks," I reply, cheeks warming under his unexpected gaze. "Good thing it's just a drill."
His smile is quick and somewhat disarming, far from the media-perfect images plastered across downtown billboards. "Indeed, safety first, though."
Once we reach the building's lobby and spill out into the fresh morning air, I expect him to disappear into the crowd or into a waiting car. Instead, he remains, his attention fixed on ensuring everyone is accounted for before he finally turns to me.
"Do you always take part in these drills?" I ask, curiosity piqued by his continued presence.
"When I'm in town," he answers. His focus shifts back to me, an easy smile playing on his lips. "It's important to ensure everything runs smoothly, even if it's just a drill."
I nod, impressed despite myself. "I guess owning the building comes with its perks and responsibilities."
"More of the latter, sometimes," he admits with a wry grin. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, "Maybe you'd like to join me for coffee sometime? Discuss more of these... responsibilities?"
His casual invitation surprises me, blurring the lines of our usual tenant-landlord interaction. "I'd like that," I find myself responding, curiosity about the man behind the persona growing stronger.
"Great! It's a date then—not a date," he quickly corrects, and we both laugh, easing the lingering tension.
As I head back inside with the crowd, his words linger in my mind, hinting at layers yet to be uncovered. Maybe, just maybe, Aarav Singh is more than just the enigmatic billionaire upstairs.
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YOU ARE READING
Windows to the Heart
DragosteIn Mumbai's busy city life, Isha, a kind woman who works at a charity, and Aarav, a secretive rich man, find out they have more in common than they thought. Living as neighbors in a fancy apartment building, they come closer through unexpected event...
