Libraries had always been quiet. Predictable. Comforting in a way the rest of his world never was.

But today, as he sat across from Anika Singhania under the high arches of the East Wing, even the silence felt charged.

She was ten minutes early. Again.

He liked that about her — the discipline, the quiet fire she kept buried beneath her polished exterior. It wasn’t obvious at first. You had to pay attention to see it. Most people didn’t.

He did.

She wore her hair in a simple braid today, neat and practical. A few strands had escaped and framed her face as she bent over her notes, frowning in concentration. That frown had become familiar in the last few days — intense, precise, and completely unaware of how distracting it could be.

He exhaled and opened his laptop.

“You always bring the same pen,” he said, breaking the silence without thinking.

She glanced up, startled. “Excuse me?”

“That silver one. You use it every session.”

She looked down at the pen in her hand, as if surprised to find it there. “It’s just a pen.”

“It’s your lucky one, isn’t it?”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you even notice these things?”

Shivaay shrugged. “I observe. Comes with the name, I guess.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything.

They returned to their screens. For a few minutes, only the sound of typing filled the air. Shivaay glanced at the digital outline they’d drafted earlier that week.

“We need to work out the market behavior shifts in Q3,” he said.

“I’m already pulling quarterly reports. But I need Oberoi Industries’ segment data too.”

He looked up sharply. “Why?”

“For baseline comparison. They're the biggest in the luxury market this year. It’ll make the argument stronger.”

His lips quirked. “You sure it’s not just to roast my family’s numbers?”

She gave a sweet, unapologetic smile. “If they’re weak, I won’t lie.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I respect that.”

Anika blinked.

Maybe it was the first time he’d said something that wasn’t barbed or sarcastic.

She didn’t like this.

This ease. This familiarity. This comfort in the sound of his voice.

He was supposed to be the enemy. A walking, talking caution sign. Her father’s oldest feud wrapped in a dangerously attractive shell.

And yet...

The more she spoke to him, the more cracks she found. In the silence between his jokes. In the way he avoided talking about his family. In the way he noticed small things, like her silver pen.

No one ever noticed that.

She looked up from her laptop. “Your brothers... they study here too?”

“Both my brothers are in school,” Shivaay replied.
“They seem close to you.”

He gave a small nod. “They’re the only reason I’m not bored to death at home.”

“You don’t like college?”

“I like the learning. Not the politics.”

His words hit unexpectedly close to home.

“Yeah,” she muttered, returning to her notes. “Tell me about it.”

He watched her for a moment longer. The light from the window caught in her hair, and he suddenly remembered a childhood birthday party — one of those rare, blurry days where their families weren’t tearing each other apart yet. She must’ve been five. He’d given her his slice of cake because someone else had knocked hers to the ground.

She probably didn’t remember.

But he did.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything toward her except suspicion. His father had made that clear. She’s a Singhania. That’s all you need to know.

But here she was, smarter than most, sharper than all, and maddeningly beautiful in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

“Did you ever think,” he said suddenly, “how messed up it is that our fathers hate each other enough to dictate our friendships?”

She looked up. “All the time.”

“And yet here we are.”

She tilted her head. “Breaking the rules.”

A silence stretched between them — not awkward, but full.

Full of awareness.

Full of a warning neither of them voiced.

Anika closed her notebook slowly. “Let’s divide the deliverables. If we work efficiently, we won’t have to meet more than twice a week.”

“Are you scared you’ll start liking me?” he asked, a little amused, a little too close to the truth.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m scared I’ll forget not to.”

Her honesty caught him off guard.

For once, Shivaay didn’t have a comeback.

Anika packed up her things and rose. “Thursday? Same time?”

He nodded. “Thursday.”

She left without waiting for a response, her figure disappearing between the shelves.

And for the first time in a long time, Shivaay Singh Oberoi found himself sitting in the library, distracted not by noise or assignments or rivalry—

But by the girl who had just walked away.