The moon hung low over Bangalore, casting a pale silver light over the city that never truly slept. But on the third-floor balcony of the Malhotra mansion, everything was still — except for one man lost in his thoughts.

Arav Malhotra stood there, his back to the door, one hand loosely gripping a glass of water, the other buried in his pocket.

His shirt sleeves were still rolled up, his collar slightly open. The breeze ruffled his hair, but he barely noticed.

His eyes stared ahead — not at the skyline, but somewhere far deeper. Into the memory he couldn't shake off.

Meher Sharma.

That name.
Her words.
That calm but determined voice.

He wasn't sure why she was still in his head.

Until—

"Lost in the moon or in your mess of a mind?" came a familiar voice behind him, breaking the stillness.

Arav turned slightly.

It was his father, Vikram Malhotra, standing at the balcony entrance with a small smile. He held a cup of coffee in his hand — clearly not there just by accident.

Arav blinked, shaken from his thoughts. "Didn't see you come in."

"I noticed," Vikram said casually, stepping closer. "I even coughed once for dramatic effect."

A tiny corner of Arav's mouth twitched.

They stood there for a few moments in silence, until Vikram sipped his coffee and spoke again — quietly this time.

"Thinking about her?"

Arav's jaw clenched ever so slightly. "No."

"Lying doesn't suit you, son," his father said gently, placing the cup down on the railing.

Another beat of silence.

Vikram sighed, folding his arms. "I know it still haunts you. The betrayal. The trust you gave... and how she shattered it."

Arav didn't answer. He didn't need to.

His silence said it all.

"She didn't just cheat the company, Arav," Vikram said softly. "She cheated you. That's what hurt the most."

Arav finally spoke, voice flat but hollow.

"I didn't see it coming. I let her in — into the boardroom, into my trust... into everything. And she handed our strategy papers to our biggest rival like it meant nothing."

His grip on the glass tightened.

"And when I confronted her, she didn't deny it. She just smiled and said, 'You were too easy to fool.'"

Vikram's eyes darkened. Even after all this time, the pain in his son's voice cut deep.

"She was a mistake, Arav. But one mistake doesn't define your entire journey."

Arav looked away, jaw locked.

"I don't let people in anymore," he muttered. "It's easier that way."

Vikram placed a steady hand on his shoulder.

"But that's not living. That's hiding. You have a strong mind, son. Don't let a weak hearted woman be the reason you stop trusting the right ones."

Arav didn't reply, but something shifted in his expression — like the ice cracked a little.

Vikram gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

"Not everyone's here to use you, Arav. One day someone will show you that — not with words, but actions."

He picked up his coffee again and turned to go.

"Goodnight, son," he added before walking inside.

Arav remained there, eyes lifted to the moon again.

The name "Meher Sharma" floated again through his thoughts.

And for some strange reason... this time it didn't bring weight.
It brought a question.

...

The moonlight spilled in through the tall window of Arav Malhotra's bedroom, brushing across the floor in pale silver. The room, though lavish, was silent — a quiet too familiar to the man who lay on the edge of his king-sized bed.

Arav stared at the ceiling, hands folded beneath his head, shirt still unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves still rolled. His mind, however, was nowhere near sleep.

Vikram's words still echoed faintly in his ears...

"Not everyone's here to use you, Arav."

But Arav knew better. He had learned the hard way.

His jaw clenched as memories flickered like a cruel slideshow.

The girl he once trusted.
The employee who became more.
The woman who laughed when she walked out with their confidential data.

His ex.

Not just a personal heartbreak — she had been a part of his inner circle at the company. A senior strategist. Smart, confident... fake.

He had given her access to boardroom conversations, quarterly plans, even investor insights — thinking she was loyal to both him and the company.

But she wasn't.

She was loyal to winning.

And she had played him — both in business and in love.

Arav turned to his side, resting his cheek on the pillow, eyes still wide open.

And that night, he made a decision.

"From now on, no employee crosses the professional line," he muttered to himself.

"No friendships. No personal attachments. No blurred lines."

"Especially not with assistants."

He let out a slow breath.

"This company is my shield. No one's getting past it again."

There was a finality to those words — as if they had been carved into stone.

And yet...

In some corner of his mind, the image of a certain girl flashed by.

Meher Sharma — confident, poised, and composed in her silence.

He brushed the thought away.

She's just an employee. Like everyone else. Nothing more. Nothing ever will be.

And with that — Arav turned off the bedside lamp, letting darkness drown the room again.

Only this time, it wasn't peace that followed... it was guarded determination.