Chapter Twenty-Six: The Morning After
904 Words
Pakhi’s POV
The soft hum of the ceiling fan above and the quiet chirping of birds outside her window gently pulled Pakhi out of her sleep. She turned to her side, eyes blinking open to the faint glow of morning peeking through the curtains.
And then she saw him.
Her breath caught.
Rehaan.
He was still there — on her screen — sleeping soundly.
The call hadn’t ended.
She instinctively reached for her phone, and there he was, sprawled across his bed, his face half-buried into a pillow, his dark hair tousled, his lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly in his sleep.
Her heart did a somersault.
She pulled the phone closer, not daring to say anything, simply watching. There was something unreal about this moment — a gentle kind of intimacy that didn’t need words. Just being there.
It was still early. Her room was drenched in a cool, muted blue of dawn, but her heart was wide awake, fluttering like it had grown wings.
His brow twitched.
Pakhi bit her lip, watching the creases on his forehead soften as he shifted. The blanket was draped carelessly over him, his t-shirt slightly wrinkled. He looked nothing like the sharp, suited Rehaan she dealt with on work calls. This version of him — raw, sleepy, unguarded — was one she wasn’t sure she deserved to see.
And yet… here he was.
A slow smile crept onto her lips.
I fell asleep talking to me, didn’t I? she thought to herself.
A few minutes passed.
Then his eyes fluttered.
Pakhi’s heart skipped. And then — he looked at the screen.
There was a moment of lazy confusion before a sleepy smile tugged at his lips.
“Good morning… bacha…” he murmured, voice deep and husky, soaked in sleep.
Pakhi froze. Her fingers clutched the edge of her bedsheet. “R-Rehaan…”
He stretched, a little groggy, then ran a hand through his hair. “Did we… fall asleep on call?” His eyes crinkled with amusement.
“I did,” she whispered, trying not to sound too breathless. “You didn’t cut the call either.”
Rehaan chuckled softly. “So you watched me sleep this morning? That’s kind of creepy, Sharma ji.”
Pakhi scoffed, though her cheeks were already warming. “I didn’t watch you. I… noticed. And you were snoring a little.”
“I do not snore,” he said dramatically, sitting up slightly, the blanket falling off his shoulder. “That’s slander, and I will sue.”
She giggled, pulling her hair back into a messy bun as she sat up herself. “Then you better hire a lawyer soon.”
He leaned closer to the screen. “You’re blushing, by the way.”
“I am not!”
“Jaan, you are.” His voice dropped to that deep teasing drawl again. “You’re all pink. Right there—” He pointed to the screen, “—on your cheeks. Want me to send a mirror?”
Pakhi rolled her eyes, trying hard to suppress the grin stretching across her lips. “It’s just the light.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, smirking. “I guess my morning voice did a number on you.”
It did. It really did.
But she wouldn’t admit that.
Instead, she buried her face in her pillow for a moment, composing herself.
“How did I even fall asleep?” she asked, propping her chin up. “You were teasing me about my laugh a second before.”
“I remember laughing…,” he yawned, “and then I blinked, and boom… dreamland.”
She softened. “You were tired as well.”
“Not too tired to smile when I saw you still on call this morning.”
There was a pause.
She didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t say anything. Just smiled.
He was quiet for a moment too, just looking at her.
Then, with a sleepy sigh, he said, “I should get up and get ready. Big day.”
She nodded. “Me too. Tuesday meetings. Chaos begins.”
He smiled. “Let’s suffer together?”
She laughed. “Always.”
As they both got ready in their separate cities — Rehaan in Bangalore and Pakhi in Ahmedabad — their chat continued.
A voice note while brushing their teeth.
A picture of Rehaan’s disheveled hair captioned ‘This is not CEO material.’
A selfie from Pakhi in her kurta, captioned ‘Do I look like I have it together? Because I really don’t.’
He replied instantly: "You look like my reason to smile today."
And that was it.
She stared at the message for a long second. Then smiled so widely her cheeks hurt.
By 10 AM, both were seated at their desks, Teams call ready, camera off as usual. Just names on the screen and voices filling the space.
The world didn’t know. Couldn’t know.
To their teams, they were just vendor and client.
But to each other… they were something far more sacred. Something still unspoken.
Yet growing louder with every morning voice, every secret look, and every unsaid feeling.
And Pakhi knew, in that moment — the moment he called her bacha, the moment she felt butterflies at a man’s sleepy smile — that she was in too deep.
But strangely… she didn’t want to swim back.
- Writer
