The city buzzed with life, but her heart was a storm of nerves.
Malishka Kapoor stood outside the glass doors of KnightCorp, the towering building that scraped the sky like it ruled it. Her resume was clutched in one hand, her phone in the other, and a thousand thoughts tangled in her mind.
This is it. My shot. My dream job.
She adjusted her blazer, took a deep breath, and walked inside.
The lobby was nothing short of intimidating—white marble floors, glass chandeliers, and a silence that screamed money. People in designer suits walked past her, their steps echoing confidence.
She tried to mirror it. Tried to remember the lines she rehearsed. Tried to calm the chaos inside her head.
"Excuse me, miss?" the receptionist called out. "You're here for the assistant project manager interview?"
Malishka nodded. "Yes. Malishka Kapoor."
"Please take the elevator to the 38th floor. Conference Room B."
She murmured a thanks and turned toward the elevator, her heart climbing faster than the floors. She didn't know why she was so anxious. She had done dozens of interviews before. But something about this company felt… heavier. Bigger. Like a turning point.
As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped into the cold, quiet space, alone. Her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back—sharp eyes, soft curls, and lips pressed into a determined line. She had to get this job. She had to prove herself.
She had no idea that destiny had just hit the 'up' button on her past.
---
When the elevator pinged open, the 38th floor was silent.
She walked through the glass corridor, her heels clicking softly. Conference Room B was at the end, its door slightly ajar. She peeked inside—and found three people seated at the table. Two men in suits and one woman with glasses scanning through files.
They all looked up.
"Miss Kapoor, right?" the woman asked. "Please, take a seat."
She nodded politely and sat across from them.
The interview began—typical questions at first. Her background, qualifications, work experience. Malishka answered confidently. She'd prepared hard. She knew her numbers, her projects, her worth.
But just as the final question ended, the door to the conference room opened.
And her world stopped.
Her heart dropped.
No. It can't be.
The man who entered was tall, dressed in a black tailored suit that screamed quiet power. His presence was magnetic—commanding. Dangerous.
His gaze met hers.
Rivan.
Her breath hitched.
Rivan Knight.
The man she once loved. The man who had disappeared from her life five years ago without a word. The man who had broken her heart like it meant nothing.
She felt her throat close, but she forced herself to stay still.
Rivan looked at her for barely a second before turning to the panel. "I'll be concluding this interview."
His voice was deeper now. Colder. Controlled.
The others stood instantly and exited the room without question.
Malishka sat frozen, confused, burning inside. Her fingers gripped the edge of the chair as she watched him walk toward the head seat, sit down, and flip open her resume like this was any ordinary meeting.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to ask a hundred questions.
But instead, she whispered, "You're the CEO?"
He didn't look up. "Surprised?"
Her voice was cold. "You think I'd show up here if I knew?"
Now he did look at her. His eyes—dark and unreadable—met hers.
"I thought you hated corporate."
"I grew up," she snapped.
A flicker passed through his expression. Regret? Amusement? She couldn't tell.
"Why did you apply?" he asked.
"I didn't know you owned KnightCorp."
"Would you have stayed away if you did?"
She didn't answer. Her silence was louder than words.
His eyes stayed on hers. "You're hired."
Her lips parted. "What?"
"You want the job. You've got it."
Her blood boiled. "I don't need your charity."
He leaned forward slightly. "It's not charity. It's business. You're qualified. And I need someone who doesn't flatter me."
"I don't want your offer."
"You'll take it."
She stood up. "You think you can control everything just because you have money now?"
His jaw clenched. "I always had money. You just didn't know the truth back then."
She froze.
The truth.
The word stung.
He didn't explain. Didn't soften. Just stared at her like she was a storm he had once survived.
"First day is Monday," he said, coolly. "8 a.m. sharp. Don't be late."
"Rivan—" she started, but the door opened again, and a sharp voice interrupted.
"Aryan said— Oh."
The man who walked in was tall, fair, stylish, and clearly not expecting company.
He paused, looked between them, and smirked. "So this is the famous Malishka."
Her breath caught again.
Rivan's voice was steel. "Aaryan, not now."
Aaryan laughed. "You didn't tell me she was this pretty."
"Out."
"Alright, alright." He winked at Malishka and left, whistling.
She glared at Rivan. "He knows everything, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
"And I didn't even get a goodbye."
His silence was deafening.
"I hate you," she whispered.
"You'll be here Monday," he replied.
She turned and walked out, her hands trembling, her heart bleeding with a pain she thought she had buried long ago.
---
Outside the building, Malishka finally breathed.
The wind hit her face, but she didn't feel it.
Why is he here? Why now? Why this company?
She wanted answers. She wanted closure. But most of all, she wanted to forget how his eyes still made her heart stutter.
She promised herself that night—she wouldn't fall again.
But the truth was, she never stopped falling.
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