UNSPOKEN BONDS

15. Goodnight Baby

© archanaj1308 2026. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

The first night in Jakarta arrived wrapped in humidity, neon reflections, and exhaustion sharp enough to settle behind the eyes.

By the time Samarth Mehta finally stepped out of the last conference room inside the Jakarta regional headquarters, it was already close to 10:30 p.m. The glass doors slid shut behind him while the remaining executives filtered toward elevators carrying laptops, phones, and the collective fatigue of twelve straight hours of negotiations.

The day had been relentless from the moment their flight landed.

Investor discussions.
Regulatory restructuring.
Acquisition review.
Board introductions.
Crisis forecasting.
Operational integration timelines.

Every hour scheduled down to the minute. And Sam had handled all of it with his usual terrifying efficiency. Calm voice. Controlled expression. Precise answers. No wasted words.
The Indonesian board trusted him because he never looked uncertain even once. Unfortunately, Chinmay had known him long enough to notice the smaller things.

Like how Sam checked his phone between meetings without realizing it. How his replies during dinner became shorter whenever notifications failed to appear. How he kept glancing automatically toward the Singapore time displayed on his watch. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But enough for Chinmay to privately conclude: pathetic.

Thankfully, he kept that observation to himself for survival reasons.

The hotel lobby carried the muted luxury typical of high-end business hotels-dark marble flooring, warm lighting, soft instrumental piano near the lounge bar. Staff greeted Sam immediately the moment he entered, already recognizing him from the morning arrivals.

"Good evening, Mr. Mehta." He nodded once politely before stepping into the elevator alone.

The quiet finally settled around him as the doors closed. For the first time all day, there were no presentations glowing across screens. No negotiations. No strategy discussions.
No one asking for decisions every thirty seconds.

Just silence. The elevator mirrored his reflection back at him-tie loosened slightly now, sleeves folded once at the forearms, exhaustion visible only around the eyes.

And beneath all of it sat one very inconvenient realization. He missed her already. The hotel suite overlooking central Jakarta was immaculate in the way expensive business accommodations always were. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the city lights outside while traffic moved endlessly below like glowing rivers beneath the rain-damp streets.

Sam stepped inside, dropped his keycard onto the console table, and finally exhaled properly.
His jacket came off first. Then his watch. Then the endless professional mask he wore all day loosened slightly around the edges. His phone sat silent in his hand for exactly three seconds before he unlocked it anyway.

Nothing.

He stared at the screen briefly before tossing the phone beside the bed with controlled irritation at himself. This was ridiculous. Amritha Srinivasan had been busy for maybe four hours. Not missing. Not kidnapped. Not lost somewhere inside Singapore.

Busy.

And yet his brain apparently considered this a humanitarian crisis. Sam walked toward the minibar, poured himself water, then loosened his collar further while mentally reviewing tomorrow's schedule. Eight a.m. investor briefing. Site inspection afterward. Private dinner with Indonesian stakeholders. Conference call with Singapore by night. Unpleasant. His phone buzzed suddenly against the bed. Sam turned instantly.