The morning sun streamed into the modest Bangkok apartment, slipping through the gauzy white curtains like threads of molten gold. It painted soft, glowing stripes across the floor, bathing the living room in gentle warmth. Outside, the city stirred awake. A tuk-tuk honked cheerfully in the distance, the driver's call mingling with the crisp sizzle of oil from the street vendors below. The rich aroma of spices, garlic, lemongrass, and soy sauce floated into the room like an invisible invitation to indulge.
Inside, Rhea stretched languidly on the couch, yawning like a lazy feline. She rolled onto her side, squinting at the clock on the wall.
"Aarohi!" she called, her voice a mix of urgency and amusement. "Wake up! We're not in India anymore where you can charm the auto-rickshaw guy into waiting!"
The bedroom door creaked open as Rhea padded over, her bare feet barely making a sound against the tiled floor. She peered inside.
Aarohi lay sprawled across the bed, her long, jet-black hair splayed across the pillow like a silk waterfall. She groaned in sleepy protest, curling deeper into her blanket.
"Five more minutes," she mumbled. "I dreamt I was riding a white elephant through clouds made of mango sticky rice."
Rhea raised a brow and chuckled. "Only you would dream in dessert metaphors. You foodie. Now, come on! It's our second day! You've got to make a good impression at work. Who knows? Maybe there's a hot Thai guy waiting to fall for you."
"I'd rather fall back into bed," Aarohi muttered.
"Nope! Not happening," Rhea said brightly, already turning toward the kitchen. She poured two glasses of orange juice and slathered kaya jam onto slices of warm toast. The sweet, coconut-pandan scent filled the apartment.
By 8:00 AM, both girls were dressed and ready. Aarohi chose a soft lavender blouse tucked into high-waisted cream trousers, her curls tamed into a sleek ponytail that brushed the nape of her neck. Rhea wore a pale blue shirt dress, her white sneakers spotless, a crisp contrast against her tanned legs.
Their shared excitement buzzed between them as they headed to the office. But that energy shifted the moment they stepped into the building.
The atmosphere felt... different.
Gone was the vibrant chatter and friendly chaos of the previous day. The open-plan office was unusually quiet. Footsteps padded softly over the marble floors, and conversations were reduced to mere whispers. Heads were lowered. Eyes avoided.
Aarohi slowed her steps, frowning slightly. "What's going on? It's like someone died."
From behind the front desk, Mali, the petite receptionist, leaned forward, her eyes wide. "He's here," she whispered.
Rhea blinked. "He?"
"The CEO," Mali said, her voice hushed as if speaking his name might summon him. "Mr. Rithvik Veerayut. He's back."
Before they could respond, Pim, the HR manager, appeared at their side.
"Girls," she said crisply, adjusting her glasses. "Remember what I told you about protocol? Keep your heads down. Be respectful. Do not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"
Rhea arched an eyebrow. "Is he really that scary?"
"Scary?" Pim scoffed. "He's more terrifying than a thousand final exams. Cold. Ruthless. And he loathes distractions. Especially from interns."
They were ushered toward their desks like obedient students. Aarohi and Rhea exchanged wide-eyed glances.
Rhea leaned in, whispering, "I heard he once fired someone for chewing gum too loudly."
Mali joined in from the next desk. "No one's ever seen him smile. He doesn't talk to women unless it's business—and only if it's absolutely necessary."
Aarohi tilted her head. "Why not?"
Mali shrugged. "Rumor has it, he doesn't believe in love. Says emotions make people weak."
And then—
the elevator chimed.
The sound sliced through the air like a warning bell.
Everyone went still.
The doors slid open with a soft whoosh.
He stepped out.
Rithvik Veerayut.
Tall. Towering. Imposing. Easily over six feet, his broad shoulders and commanding presence seemed to suck the air from the room. He wore a flawlessly tailored charcoal-gray suit, not a wrinkle in sight, the fabric clinging perfectly to his lean, muscular frame. His crisp white shirt contrasted starkly against his tanned skin, the top button undone in a calculated nod to effortlessness.
His black hair was slicked back, revealing a sharp widow's peak and a forehead that spoke of intelligence and calculation. His features were almost too perfect—an angular jawline, straight nose, and lips set in a neutral, unreadable line. But it was his eyes that held the room hostage—dark, penetrating, like bottomless wells that could freeze fire. Those eyes scanned the office slowly, landing on no one and yet making everyone feel seen... and judged.
He didn't walk.
He moved.
With the deliberate grace of a predator.
Every step was calculated. Measured. He walked not like a man but like a force of nature—controlled, commanding, magnetic. His assistants flanked him, but they remained two steps behind, never daring to match his pace.
No one breathed.
No one dared.
Even the air seemed to bow to his presence.
As he passed, employees averted their gaze. Some bowed slightly. Others pretended to type furiously, hands trembling. One man dropped a pen and didn't even try to pick it up until the CEO had vanished into his private glass-walled office at the far end of the hall.
And then—
the collective exhale.
Like the room had been holding its breath the entire time.
Rhea let out a low whistle. "Okay. That man is the human embodiment of a glacier. We should stay far away. Like outer-space far."
But Aarohi didn't respond.
She was still staring at the hallway where he had disappeared.
Her lips slightly parted.
A strange flutter blooming in her chest.
Because, for the briefest second—the tiniest flicker of a heartbeat—their eyes had met.
Just once.
But it had been enough.
She had seen something there—something fleeting but real. A storm behind the stillness. Fire trapped under ice.
And then he had looked away. As if she didn't exist.
She blinked, dazed.
Rhea waved a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Aarohi. Don't tell me you're falling for the Thai Darth Vader."
Aarohi smiled faintly. "Did you see his eyes? They were... intense."
"You're doomed."
---
The rest of the day passed in a strange blur. Aarohi tried to focus on her tasks—marketing research, compiling brand reports, drafting outreach ideas—but her thoughts kept slipping back to that moment.
Those eyes.
That presence.
Every whisper in the office was about him.
"He was once engaged, you know," someone said.
"To a girl who left him for his business rival."
"That's why he doesn't believe in love. He thinks it's a weakness."
"He believes emotions cloud judgment."
"They say he built this empire from the ground up just to prove her wrong."
The stories twisted and layered upon themselves, painting a man who was more myth than human. But Aarohi didn't buy it.
Because when she looked into his eyes—brief as it was—she had seen something breakable.
Not weakness.
But pain.
And pain... was very human.
---
The sun dipped lower. One by one, employees began to leave. Desks emptied. Computers shut down.
Aarohi stayed behind, finishing her notes. She liked the quiet. It gave her space to think, to breathe.
And then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Sure. Echoing through the empty hallway.
She looked up.
And froze.
Rithvik Veerayut.
Walking directly toward her desk.
Alone.
No assistants.
No barrier.
His expression unreadable. Cold. But those eyes—they burned.
He stopped in front of her.
Looked at her for a long moment.
Then said, voice like velvet and steel:
"You. Come with me."
Her heart skipped.
Was this the beginning... or the end?
---
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading Chapter 3! Rithvik's cold entrance marks the start of something intense. Aarohi's curiosity is only just beginning—and so is the storm brewing beneath his icy exterior. Stay tuned for more sparks and secrets!