The soft chime of bangles filled the air as Mrs. Mehra rubbed her trembling hands together, her tear-streaked face turned away from the family. The weight of years of neglect, of missed signs and unspoken words, bore down on her frail shoulders.

"This is why," she whispered, her voice cracked like old porcelain, "this is why he acts like a child despite being a grown man."

Her mother-in-law, a woman of once unshakable composure, wiped her own glistening eyes. "His therapist said he's scared of responsibilities... scared of expectations," she echoed.

Across the room, Mr. Mehra sat rigid, his fingers curled tightly around the armrests of his chair, his knuckles white with the force of suppressed emotions. But when his wife broke down completely, shoulders shaking, gasping for breath between sobs, the dam cracked.

He reached out, pulling her into his chest. "We should have seen it," he murmured, his voice hoarse with guilt. "We should have paid more attention... should have known what was happening in that damn boarding school."

Ananya stood frozen, their sorrow settling around her like thick, suffocating fog.

"So, he's scared of responsibilities and expectations... But he-"

Her thoughts wove into each other, frayed edges struggling to connect. But before she could untangle them, the shrill ring of her phone sliced through the air.

She blinked.

Glanced at the screen.

Dev.

With a controlled breath, she answered, her tone as steady as ever.

"Ma'am!" Dev's voice rang through, carrying its usual dramatic urgency. "You need to come to the office. The deal with Mr. Kaushik needs to be signed today."

She shut her eyes briefly, willing the emotions swirling inside her to settle. "I'll be there."

Sliding the phone back into her pocket, she turned to the grieving parents. "I need to go to the office," she informed them, her tone devoid of the storm inside her.

Mrs. Mehra merely nodded, unable to form words. Mr. Mehra squeezed his wife's hand, nodding at Ananya in silent understanding.

She turned, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she made her way to the hall.

And then she saw them.

Aarav and Aanya sat cross-legged on the floor, locked in a fierce competition of building the tallest tower out of wooden blocks. Their laughter rang through the air like the purest form of joy.

And beside them-

Rihaan.

A small plate of neatly sliced apples rested on his lap as he watched over the kids, his eyes brimming with innocent excitement.

"But we don't wanna eat apples, Dadaaa," Aarav whined, pouting.

Rihaan gasped dramatically. "What do you mean, you don't wanna eat apples?!" He held up a piece like it was a golden trophy. "Anya said fruits are good for health! She never lies!"

Aanya, the little girl with sharp wit like her mother, folded her arms. "That's true, but she also says we should eat what makes us happy."

Rihaan faltered. Clearly, he hadn't anticipated his own logic being turned against him.

"But, but-" He scrunched his nose, then suddenly straightened his back, attempting a serious, authoritative tone. "You have to eat these apples now."

It was meant to be firm. Commanding.

But it came out soft, almost pleading.

The kids giggled. But with exaggerated sighs, they took the apple slices from his hand and ate them.

Ananya stood still, watching the scene unfold, a strange weight pressing against her ribs.

"He doesn't want responsibilities?"

She wasn't sure why, but something about that statement didn't sit right with her.

She tore her gaze away and walked out the door.

*****

The elevator ride to her top-floor office was silent, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. The moment she stepped into her office, however, work took over.

She slipped off her coat, draped it over the chair, and picked up the waiting files with practiced ease. Within minutes, the world of figures, contracts, and negotiations became her shield against the storm in her mind.

A soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she called.

Dev walked in, arms full of paperwork, his usual energy bubbling under the surface.

She signed the documents without hesitation, each stroke of the pen precise, controlled.

After a brief discussion about the deal, Dev placed an envelope on her desk. "An invitation from Mr. Kaushik," he announced. "His son's birthday celebration. You're invited."

Ananya nodded, fingers grazing the gold-embossed card.

Then, without looking up, she asked, "You're coming with me to the party, right?"

A pause.

A hesitant, almost guilty chuckle.

"Ah... actually, no."

Her sharp gaze flicked to him. "Why not?"

Dev scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I... uh..."

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess. Mahira?"

The moment the name left her mouth, Dev turned crimson.

Ananya leaned back in her chair, thoroughly enjoying his misery. "Another date?"

He shook his head so fast it was almost comical. "No, no! She's cooking my favorite dishes for me, and I just..." He trailed off, his voice small, his blush deeper.

She grinned. "So, it's a date."

"It's not a date!"

"She's cooking for you, you're going to her place, and you're excited." She tapped a finger against her chin. "Sounds like a date to me."

Dev groaned, covering his face. "Ma'am, please!"

Ananya laughed lightly, but then something clicked in her mind.

"Wait a second." She narrowed her eyes. "Isn't Mahira's birthday next month?"

Dev immediately shook his head. "Nope!"

Her gaze sharpened. "Do you even know her birth date?"

"Of course, I do!" Dev puffed up his chest proudly. "November 29th. Saturday. 9:43 at night."

Ananya blinked.

"That's... oddly specific."

Dev smiled sheepishly. "Uh, well..."

She stared at him, trying to process his precision. "And her favorite color?"

Without hesitation, he launched into an entire list. "Her favorite colors are different in everything. For dresses, she likes emerald green. For nails, she likes pastel pink. For walls, she prefers cool-toned neutrals. For cars, black. For lipstick, deep reds. For heels, metallic shades. For flowers, she likes-"

"Dev."

He stopped.

Ananya stared at him with wide eyes before slowly saying, "I don't know if it's sweet or creepy that you know so much about her."

Dev turned the deepest shade of red she had ever seen. "It's not creepy! It's just- I pay attention!"

She smirked. "Hmm."

He groaned, but then, sheepishly, he clasped his hands together. "Actually... I wanted to ask you something."

She raised an eyebrow. "I knew there was something."

Dev grinned, though still a little embarrassed. "I want to get Mahira a gift when I go over for dinner. What should I get?"

Ananya tilted her head, thinking. Then, she smirked.

"She loves books, right?"

Dev nodded eagerly.

"Then gift her a book you've already read. Add little notes inside."

His eyes widened. "Oh."

"Also, a small bouquet of different flowers, not just one kind. And dark chocolates. She loves them."

Dev listened intently, then smiled. "That's... perfect."

Ananya rested her chin on her palm, watching Dev with amusement as he wrote everything down like a teenager in love.

"So, when are you planning to confess?" she asked casually, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

Dev choked on absolutely nothing. "C-confess?! Who said anything about confessing?"

Ananya raised an eyebrow. "You remember the exact time she was born, Dev. 9:43 PM, on a Saturday." She folded her arms. "You also know her favorite colors for different things. You can tell the difference between what lipstick shade she likes versus what color she prefers for walls." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "If this isn't love, then what is it?"

Dev looked utterly cornered. His ears turned an alarming shade of red as he fumbled with the files in his hands.

"I-it's just appreciation," he mumbled.

Ananya hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider his words. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Okay, then tell me-what's your favorite color?"

Dev blinked. "What?"

"Your own favorite color. Don't think. Just say it."

Dev hesitated. "Um... maybe blue?"

Ananya smirked. "You think it's blue? But you know Mahira's preferences down to her favorite color for cars and lipstick. Sounds like you know her better than you know yourself."

Dev groaned, covering his face. "Ma'am, please stop. I came here for business, not to be bullied into self-realization."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. I'll stop."

He peeked through his fingers. "Really?"

"No."

Dev groaned dramatically, but she could see the small, shy smile tugging at his lips.

Ananya leaned back in her chair, watching him with amusement. "Just think about it, Dev. Feelings don't always need a grand declaration. Sometimes, it's just about knowing. And trust me-Mahira already knows."

Dev's eyes widened slightly, as if that thought had never occurred to him. He fumbled with the little notebook before clearing his throat. "I-I should get back to work."

Ananya smirked. "Go. And buy the gift I suggested. It'll win you some points."

He turned on his heel, walking towards the door.

Sighing, Ananya leaned back in her chair, her smirk faded.

Her thoughts went back to Rihaan.

"He's scared of responsibilities and expectations."

Mrs. Mehra's words echoed in her head like an unsolved riddle.

And yet-

Ananya had seen him. Just now, feeding Aarav and Aanya, coaxing them into eating their fruits. He hadn't abandoned them when they whined. He hadn't walked away when they resisted.

Instead, he had stayed. Patient. Soft.

Wasn't that responsibility?

She drummed her fingers on the desk.

Something still wasn't adding up.

And Ananya wasn't one to leave an equation unsolved.