The flight from Mumbai to Mauritius was six hours of pure venom. I spent the first three deleting every trace of Richard from my phone. Click, delete. Click, delete. Three years of anniversaries, holidays, and promises, all wiped out in a flurry of thumb taps while the cabin hummed around me. The next three hours were filled with a suffocating realization that I was flying to a non-refundable, ultra-luxury Mauritius resort that he was supposed to pay half for.

Instead, he was probably sitting in our apartment, tangled in the sheets with the twenty-four year old receptionist from his firm.

“If you sigh one more time, I’m ordering a third mini-bottle of vodka and pouring it directly into your brain.” Trisha murmured from the seat next to me, not taking the pain of lowering her sleep mask. “I still can’t believe the resort wouldn’t waive the cancellation fee,” I muttered, staring blankly outside the window. “Forty five thousand down the toilet.”

“It’s not down the toilet,” Maya chimed in, leaning across the aisle, her eyes bright with the chaotic energy she always carried. “Because Trisha and I are here. It is a girls’ trip now. Rich-the-witch is out, Mauritius is waiting, and you are going to get your mind blown by a sunset, some fresh seafood, and hopefully a hot guy named xyz. Now, put your heartbreak away. We are landing.”

When the plane finally touched down and we came out, the sheer contrast of the weather slapped me in the face. The air was thick, humid, and smelled of salt. The water wasn’t just blue, it was blinding, that made my chest ache. For a second, the weight of Richard’s betrayal flared up– he was supposed to see this with me. But as Maya grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the balcony, the heavy dark cloud in my chest lifted a millimeter.

Our villa was a dream, and by nightfall, the quiet lap of the waves against the stilts was making me twitchy. I was overthinking. I was remembering the way Richard looked when I caught him.

“Nope, absolutely not.” Trisha said, catching me staring blankly at my reflection in the mirror. She wore a slip dress, handing me a glass of champagne. “We are going to the resort club. There's a DJ from Ibiza, the drinks are loaded, and you are going to dance until your feet hurt. No heels girls.”

“I don’t really feel like–” They cut me off. “We didn’t fly across the country for you to mope in a five-star hut.” Maya applied an aggressive layer of red lipstick, she was going to make somebody’s night.

The resort’s attached lounge club, The Azure, was an open pavilion built right over the water. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the soles of my sandals, and the neon blue lights cast everything in a surreal underwater glow.

Three rum cocktails in, the sharp edges of my reality finally began to blur. The music was infectious, it drew me towards the center of the floor. For the first time, in six months, I wasn’t thinking about branding strategies, or apartment leases, or the text messages I’d found on Richard’s phone. I was just moving. I closed my eyes, letting the ocean breeze and the rhythm take over, laughing as Trisha and Maya danced wildly around me.

I spun around, throwing my arms out to catch my balance, and a hard-cardboard reality struck back. My elbow collided with something solid. A sharp sound echoed over the music, followed by a wet splat of a full drink splashing across someone’s chest.

I opened my eyes, my heart dropping straight to my stomach. The residual panic of three years with Richard, who would have immediately snapped, called me clumsy, and ruined the rest of the night, came rushing to the surface. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry–! I didn’t see you, I just–”

I looked up, and the apology dried in my throat. The man standing in front of me was tall, probably 6’2, wearing a linen shirt that was now thoroughly soaked in dark, amber liquid. But instead of the scowl I had prepared myself for, his lips parted into a wide, impossibly charming smile. His eyes, a warm amber-brown, crinkled at the corners with genuine amusement.

He looked down at his ruined shirt, then back up at me, his eyes gleaming with the neon lights. “Huh, well, shit happens. Wanna dance?”

I blinked, thrown completely off balance. “I… what? I just spilled your drink. And your shirt.”

“It is an old shirt, and the drink was mostly ice anyway.” He chuckled, his voice low, gravelly enough to cut right through the thumping bass. He stepped closer, wiping a leftover drop of alcohol from his collarbone with a flick. “I am Kunal. And you at least owe me a dance to make up for my tragic shirt loss.”

The sheer, magnetic ease of him pulled me in. Before my brain could formulate a polite refusal, I smiled, “I’m Anya. And fine, but only one.”

One dance turned into two. Two turned into three. Kunal moved with a lazy, confident grace, his hands never crossing a line but always close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. The banter between us was effortless, witty, and sharp. When the club finally decided to close its doors at 2 am, the ocean air felt cool against my skin as we walked out on the beach.

“My friends are staying over the eastern villas,” Kunal mentioned, as I stood at the stairs, the stars looking down upon us. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his jawline. “But I have a private suite at the end. Come back with me. Just a night-in.”

I hesitated. The old cautious Anya was screaming at me. I looked back towards the lobby where Maya and Trisha were waiting, watching us like hawks. Maya caught my eye, and gave me a massive thumbs up, and mouthed, “Gurl, we got you. Go. You’re safe.”

Trisha flashed her phone, letting me know my location was active.

I turned back to Kunal, I saw nothing but warmth and patience in his eyes. No pressure, just an open invitation.
“Alright,” I whispered, “Just movies,”

A night-in turned into the most breathtaking, uninhibited week of my life.

We didn’t talk about each other’s pasts. We didn’t talk about our jobs, our last names, or our hometowns. It was an unspoken rule, an agreement that made this vacation separate from reality. Our friend groups inevitably collided the next day– his friends were loud, and technology corporates from Delhi. We rented boats, ate fresh seafood, spent nights drinking wine beneath the stars. Kunal was attentive, fiercely intelligent, and possessed a sense of humor that made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t a rebound– he was a revelation.

But everything comes with an expiration date. On the final night, sitting on the steps of the villa, the reality of tomorrow weighed heavily between us.

“So, this is it…” I said softly, staring at the sky, “Back to the real world.”

“Back to the real world,” Kunal parroted. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “No numbers? No socials?” His eyes were heavy with sadness.

I shook my head, swallowing a lump in my throat. I needed to heal from Richard properly without jumping straight into this long-distance fantasy. “Let’s keep this perfect. Just a beautiful getaway in Mauritius.”

He stared at me for a long time, but this was the thing about him, he never forced, he never pressurized. He just patiently waited. He leaned down and kissed me one last time, a slow, bruising goodbye that tasted like regret.

Three weeks later, Mauritius felt like a dream, I’d dreamt up to survive a breakdown. I was back in Mumbai, buried under spreadsheets, brand decks, and the relentless pressure of being the Chief of Branding. The tan lines from the beach were fading, but the memory of Kunal’s laughter still echoed.

“Anya, they’re calling you on the executive floor,” My assistant said, knocking on my office door. “Mr. Mehra wants you in the final interview for the new CEO candidate before the board votes.”

“On my way,” I answered, buttoning my tailored charcoal-grey blazer. I took a deep breath, and walked towards the private executive elevators. Mr. Mehra, our retiring CEO, was a legend, and whoever was replacing him, had massive expectations to meet. I needed to ensure that the new guy understood our brand identity. Mr. Mehra didn’t have an heir, and he wanted somebody to work, and not own this place, hence, the interviews with CMOs, CFOs of different companies were being held.

The elevator chimed, and I entered the executive floor. The glass walls offered a dizzying view of the city. “He’s a visionary,” Mr. Mehra whispered to me as we walked towards the heavy, soundproof doors of the main boardroom. “A bit unconventional, but brilliant. Perfect fit to where we want to take our company.”

I nodded, gripping my notebook. “Let’s see if his philosophy matches our image.”

Mr. Mehra pushed the door open. I walked in, my eyes scanning the room, and landing on the lone man sitting at the far end of the conference table. He was holding a coffee cup, staring out at the sky.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat, it just stopped beating. The air left my lungs in a sharp silent gasp. The man turned his head, he was wearing a three-piece Italian suit, far different from the linen garments I’d seen him in, but I was not mistaken. The broad shoulders, the sharp jawline, the amber-brown eyes. It was Kunal.

My brain short circuited. Was Kunal a CFO or a CMO? Weren’t his friends in technology?
Again, no. Kunal was the potential candidate for being the CEO of my company, he was supposed to be my new boss.

I froze in the doorway, my fingers gripping my notebook so hard my knuckles turned white. Kunal’s eyes met mine. For a fraction of a second I saw a flash of pure shock ripple across his eyes, but it vanished so quickly that I thought I imagined it. He replaced it with a cold, blank, unreadable face. He looked at me as if I was a stranger.

Mr. Mehra cleared his throat, taking a seat. “Anya this is…”

Kunal didn’t let him finish. He kept the coffee mug down on the glass table and stood up. Buttoning his suit jacket with slow movements, his eyes locked into mine the entire time.

“Mr. Mehra,” Kunal said, his voice deep, smooth and entirely professional. “You know this is a wonderful opportunity. But I’ve always trusted my gut, and this is simply not where I’m supposed to be. I’m going to resign my candidacy for the position of CEO. Thank you for your time.”

The room felt stunningly silent. Mr. Mehra’s mouth fell open. “Kunal, wait, we haven’t even begun our final briefing.”

“My apologies,” Kunal said curtly, bowing in respect. He picked up his phone, gave a polite nod to the other board members who were present in the room, whom I hadn’t even noticed until now, and walked straight past me, his shoulder brushing mine, sending a violent jolt of electricity through my body.

He walked out, shutting the door behind him. The boardroom erupted into panicked whispers. My mind was racing a thousand miles a second. He’s leaving because of me. He threw away the biggest role of his career the second he saw my face.

“I’ll… I’ll check, and walk him out.” I didn’t wait for anyone’s response and spun on my heels bolting out of the door.

I caught up to him at the common elevator area, he was standing there. His hands thrust deep down into his pockets, staring intensely at the digital floor numbers coming up. He looked unbothered by the fact that he’d turned down a multi-million dollar company.

“Kunal,” I hissed, grabbing his forearm. The heat of his skin sent a wave of memories rushing back, the beach, the stars, his hands on my waist. He didn’t turn, his face tight.

Without thinking, I dragged him by the sleeve towards the private executive elevator a few steps away. I swiped my keycard against the scanner and the doors slid open. I shoved him inside, hitting the button for the ground floor. The doors sealed us into the box, cutting off the outside world noise.

“What did you just do?” I demanded, my hands trembling with fury, confusion and panic. “You’re just going to pretend you don’t know me? What the hell was that back there?”

Kunal turned his back against the other wall of the elevator, looking down on his polished shoes. A slow infuriating chuckle left his mouth, his shoulders shaking lightly.

“Is this funny to you?” My voice cracked, the raw vulnerability that I was suppressing suddenly exploded. All the hurt from Richard, the beautiful weekend escape with Kunal, the agonizing three weeks of thinking I’d never see him again, everything collided. “What? You had a girlfriend back home? You spent a week with me, felt guilty, and now you have to pretend I don’t exist anymore just to make yourself feel better? Is that it?”

His chuck died instantly. His jaw tightened, the playfulness in his eyes vanished, replaced by an intense hunger that made my breath stop. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between us. The sheer size of him crowded me, trapping me against the corner of the elevator. He slammed his hand against the glass right next to me, pinning me in place. His scent, sandalwood and expensive coffee, invaded my senses.

“Is that what you think?” He murmured, his voice dropping so low, that it vibrated through my skin. “Yeah,” I snapped, my patience crossed, trying to hide how hard my heart was hammering, “That’s exactly what I think.”

“That’s not it, at all.” He emphasized, his graze dropping to my lips before snapping them back to my eyes, burning with fierce intensity.

“Then why?” I whispered, “Why did you just resign your candidacy for the position of CEO? Do you even know what you just threw away?”

Another intense, breathless chuckle escaped him, his face now inches away from mine. “Because, I couldn’t be your boss Anya. I couldn't sit up there in a cabin, looking at financial reports, and not think about you twenty-four-seven. I couldn’t command a room knowing what your skin feels like under me.”

My head spun. The corporate walls hitting me with reality. “Kunal, please. We are professionals. No one had to know what happened in Mauritius. We can keep it a secret. We can just be colleagues.”

He let out another chuckle, this time amusing. His eyes flashed, “A secret? Darling, there is absolutely zero chance that everyone in that boardroom wouldn’t know exactly what happened between us within five seconds of us getting into the same vicinity. The way I look at you? The way you’re looking at me right now? We’d be caught even before the first quarter ended.”

My anger evaporated into pure mindlessness. I swallowed hard, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” His voice turned gentle, as if he wasn’t somebody who had pinned me against the elevator, “Fate gave you to me once, and I let you walk away because I thought I was being patient, and that’s what you wanted. I lost you then, and I’ve spent every night since wishing that I’d asked an ounce of something about you. Now it has given you back to me, right here, and I’m not ruining this second opportunity.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

“There will be other jobs,” he whispered against my lips, “But there won’t be another you.”

“We have no, non-dating policy in our company,” Before I could explain any further, his mouth slammed into mine. It wasn’t the gentle exploratory kisses of our weekend, it was possessive, desperate and filled with a month’s worth of longing. My hands grabbed his collar, gripping the fabric as I pulled him closer, completely forgetting that we were in an executive elevator, accelerating towards a lobby full of people. He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet, crushing me against him as if I’d disappear if he left.

The elevator chimed, the doors opening to a bustling crowded lobby. We broke apart, both breathless, a little disheveled, my lipstick slightly smeared. Kunal looked at the lobby, and then back at me with a sudden change of expression, his smirk returned to his face. He reached into his pocket, clicked on the top floor button, and passed me his phone.

“Now,” He said, “Type your number in before I have to do something highly unprofessional in front of the HR.”
I laughed, a bright grin covering my face.

A crisp email waited in my inbox, two weeks later, bearing the company’s official stamp, coming directly from Mr. Mehra.

Hi @All,

Following an extensive executive search and a newly approved corporate restructuring clause regarding internal disclosures, we’re pleased to announce the official appointment of our new Chief Executive Officer, Kunal Oberoi.

Please join us to welcome him.
Regards.

I smiled, marking the email read, as my phone buzzed on the desk. A text from a contact saved as Kunal (CEO Mauritius) popped up–

Kunal
Board meeting wrapped. The restructuring clause is officially active, which means I’m legally allowed to take the Chief of Branding out for dinner tonight. See you in the boardroom in five? Bring coffee, I’ll bring the elevator keycard.