Naina exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax as she watched the mysterious Mr. Malhotra disappear into the crowd. She had no idea who he was, but something about him lingered—his gaze, his presence, the sheer weight of his words.
Shaking off the strange tension, she turned her focus back to the event. She wasn’t here to get distracted by entitled businessmen. She was here for architecture.
The seminar started, and she scribbled notes in her sketchbook, occasionally glancing at the panelists. Some of them were professors, others renowned architects whose work she had studied. But halfway through the discussion, she noticed something odd.
People kept stealing glances toward a particular table. Whispers, subtle nods of acknowledgment. It didn’t take long for her to realize that all of them—these industry elites—were directing their attention toward one man.
Him.
Aarav Malhotra.
Naina stiffened. She still didn’t know who he was, but he clearly wasn’t just another guest.
Unlike the other panelists, who discussed theories and philosophies, he didn’t speak much. But when he finally did, the entire room seemed to pause.
“The future of architecture isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about dominance. Control over space. You don’t just design buildings; you design how people exist within them.”
His words were precise, deliberate, spoken with an authority that made it sound less like an opinion and more like a fact.
For some reason, they unsettled her.
She had always believed architecture was about harmony, about creating spaces that breathed life into their surroundings. But to him, it sounded like something else entirely.
As the discussion continued, she found herself watching him, studying the way he carried himself—how he leaned back in his chair like he owned the room, how his eyes skimmed over people like he was assessing them, and how, without effort, he commanded attention.
Then, suddenly, his gaze met hers.
Naina’s breath caught.
His expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, as if he had been waiting for her to look at him.
She quickly averted her gaze, her heartbeat picking up.
Why did it feel like he was pulling her into something unknown, something she wasn’t ready for?
By the time the seminar ended, she was desperate for fresh air. She gathered her things and slipped out onto the terrace, letting the cool night breeze wash over her.
But she wasn’t alone.
“Running away already?”
Her grip tightened around her sketchbook as she turned. He was there, standing near the railing, watching her like he had expected her to be here.
“I wasn’t running,” she said evenly.
Aarav took a slow step closer. “Good. I don’t like unfinished conversations.”
Naina frowned. “I don’t think we had a conversation to begin with.”
His lips curved into a smirk—slow, deliberate. “Then let’s start one now.”
Something about the way he said it made her feel like she was stepping into dangerous territory.
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