Page 32 of Cherish my Heart
I fold my arms and lean on the doorframe. “That laptop has been buffering for ten minutes. Maybe take the hint and rest.”
She doesn’t even look up. “I’m perfectly capable of working from home, thank you very much. I’m not dying.”
“Could’ve fooled me. The way you passed out yesterday in the online meeting is not exactly confidence-inspiring.”
Her fingers pause on the keys. “I have a concussion. I’m fine now.”
“The doctor said three days of rest.”
“It’s been two.”
“I can count, Aditi.”
She rolls her eyes and finally sets the laptop aside. “You’ve locked me inside this house for forty-eight hours straight, by the way. That’s not protective; it’s borderline criminal. If you wanted to take a vacation, you didn’t have to use me as an excuse, Mr. Abhimaan.”
I arch a brow. “You think I’m vacationing?”
“You haven’t been to work.”
“And?”
Her mouth parts. Then closes. Then parts again. “Wait. You are saying you do not care?” I do not reply.
She straightens up. “You’ve never taken a day off. Radha told me. She said you don’t even leave the building most days.”
I shrug. “She exaggerates.”
“She said once you worked on Diwali with a fever.”
“That was years ago.”
“And now, suddenly, you’re skipping work because your assistant is sick?” She whispers, her eyebrows furrow, and she looks at me as if I have done something extremely thoughtful.
“She was in an accident,” I say evenly.
She stares. I stare back. Then she throws a cushion at me, which I dodge away from. “Oh my god, admit it—you care.”
“I do not.”
“Liar.”
“You’re being irritating.”
“You’re being obvious.”
I cross the room, grab the cushion off the floor, and toss it back on the couch. “You’re not going back to work until the doctor clears you. End of story.”
She huffs. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re reckless.”
Her arms cross tighter, like a shield. “You know this technically qualifies as confinement, right? I haven’t seen sunlight in two days. I should be charging you rent.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You were in a car crash.”
“And I survived. I even stood without wobbling this morning. That’s practically recovery.”
“I’m not debating this, Aditi,” I say sternly, crossing my arms.
