“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know.” There’s no hesitation in Aryan’s voice. No regret. And something inside my chest twists so sharply it almost hurts. Because I understand. Not the action. But the reason behind it. And it makes me feel worse. He had to take such a drastic step to bring me closer because I couldn't be an adult and talk about that night.
I push the door open without any warning. Both of them look up. Ajay immediately straightens, expression smoothing out into something neutral.
Aryan—Aryan freezes. Just for a second. But I catch it. The way his body stills. The way his eyes flicker over my face like he’s trying to read exactly how much I heard. It doesn’t take long for him to figure it out.
“Ajay,” he says quietly. Ajay nods once and leaves without another word.
The door closes behind him and silence fills the room. My eyes don’t leave Aryan. “What was that?” My voice is steady. Too steady. That’s how I know I’m angry.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches me very carefully.
“Sunshine—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to call me that right now.” He flinches, only a bit but I notice it. “What did he mean?” I ask, taking another step forward. “About the fire.”
He exhales slowly and runs a hand through his hair. “...It was under control.”
“That’s not what I asked.” My grip tightens around the file until the edges press into my palm.
“Did you do it?” The question hangs between us.
“Yes.” The word is quiet. But it lands like a blow. For a second, I just stare at him. Waiting for him to take it back. To laugh. To say it was a joke. He doesn’t.
“Why?” I know why but I want to hear it from him.
“You were avoiding me.”
My chest rises sharply. “You set your office on fire—”
“It was controlled—”
“I don’t care,” I snap, my voice finally breaking through the calm I was holding onto. “You put yourself in danger.”
“I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“That doesn’t make it better!” The words echo louder than I expect. I don’t lower my voice this time. I don’t try to soften it. Because this—This is not something I can just…accept.
He takes a step closer. Like approaching something fragile. “I couldn’t take it.” His voice is quieter now. “I couldn’t take you pulling away like that.” My breath catches. “I thought I messed everything up that night,” he continues, words coming faster now, like they’ve been sitting in him too long. “I thought I pushed too far. And then you just—shut down. You wouldn’t look at me. You wouldn’t talk to me. Everything went back to how it was before and I—”
He stops and runs a hand through his hair again, frustration slipping through now. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”
I stare at him. “You don’t fix something like that by—burning your office down.”
“I didn’t burn it down.”
“You set it on fire.”
“It was small—”
“Don’t you dare!” I jab my finger into his chest, “I have seen the damage!” My voice cracks. That’s what stops him. Becausethis isn’t just anger anymore. It scares me how easily his thought went to putting himself in danger rather than maybe…trying to cage me. He may have wanted to not push my boundaries but the thought of something happening to him feels me with equal part of rage as it does with fear.
“You could have gotten hurt,” I say, quieter now, but the words feel heavier than before.
“I didn’t—”
“You could have.” I bark. His eyes are intense as he gazes at me and my breath shakes now, “I don’t…” I shake my head, trying to steady my breathing. “I don’t understand how you thought that was okay.”
