Chapter 4 – Distance

The project began with momentum.

Teams moved in precision. Deadlines were met. Approvals flowed. The tech park rose on paper and concrete, layer by layer, exactly as Veeresh Rathore had envisioned. To the world, he was untouchable—focused, ruthless, brilliant.

And invisible.

To Poornima.

No calls.

No messages.

No casual orders at the juice centre.

No “See you at our place.”

At first, Poornima told herself he was busy. He always got like this when work consumed him. She waited for a missed call that never came, a text that never appeared.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Every time her phone buzzed, her heart lifted—only to fall again. Slowly, painfully, the truth settled in.

He was avoiding her.

She sat alone one evening, files open but unread, her saree pallu clenched tightly in her fist. Her eyes burned, and before she could stop herself, tears slipped free. She wiped them away quickly, angry at herself for feeling so much.

He’s just my childhood friend, she reminded herself.

Then why does it hurt like this?

She had stood by him when he was nothing more than a sharp boy with dreams too big for his circumstances. She had celebrated his wins silently, defended him when the world judged him harshly. And now, the absence felt louder than any argument ever could.

Across the city, Veeresh stood on the balcony of his office late at night.

The tech park lights glowed in the distance—his empire in progress.

A cigarette burned between his fingers.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the dark like a confession he refused to make. His phone lay untouched on the table beside him. Her name stayed locked in his contacts, unsent messages trapped behind pride and fear.

He knew she would understand if he explained.

That was the problem.

Understanding her was dangerous.

Every time he saw her smile, heard her laugh, felt her hand on his arm—it threatened the walls he’d built so carefully around himself. She didn’t belong in his world of power games and political traps. This project alone had enemies circling, watching for weakness.

And Poornima was his.

His weakness.

“This is best,” he muttered to himself, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “Let it end here.”

Let the friendship fade.

Let her stay safe.

Let him stay in control.

He turned back to his desk, burying himself in blueprints, budgets, and contracts—anything that kept him from thinking about her eyes filled with quiet hurt.

The tech park project moved forward flawlessly.

But somewhere beneath the concrete and steel, two people were breaking in silence—

one pretending not to feel,

the other wondering why she suddenly mattered too much.