The grumpy boss sweet wife

Chapter 12: The Rainy Ride

The rain didn’t stop.

It started the moment Ayesha and Armaan stepped out of the office building. The sky had been grey all afternoon, but no one expected this. Within ten minutes, Dhaka was completely drowning. The streets were turning into rivers. Water was already knee-deep near the main gate. Rickshaws were stuck in the middle of the road. Cars were moving at a snail's pace, their headlights cutting through the heavy curtain of rain.

Ayesha pulled her dupatta tighter around herself. Her shoes were already soaked from walking to the gate. She was mentally preparing to take a rickshaw and get drenched completely when a familiar voice cut through the sound of rain.

"Get in."

Ayesha turned. Armaan was standing there, holding his black blazer above his head like an umbrella. Behind him, his black Mercedes was parked, hazard lights on.

"Sir?" Ayesha was confused. "You don’t have to-"

"No arguments," Armaan cut her off. His voice was firm but not angry. He walked towards her, holding the blazer over her head. Water was dripping from his hair onto his white shirt. "Get in. You’ll catch a cold."

Ayesha hesitated for only a second. The rain was getting worse. She nodded and quickly slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled like leather and Armaan’s cologne. It was warm. A sharp contrast to the cold rain outside.

The driver’s seat was empty.

"You’re driving, Sir?" Ayesha asked, surprised.

"Driver took leave today," Armaan said simply as he got in and started the engine. "Because of the rain."

The car moved slowly. The wipers were working overtime but the rain was too heavy. For the first five minutes, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rain hitting the roof, the wipers, and the soft hum of the heater.

Ayesha looked out the window. The city lights were blurry because of the water on the glass. Her mind was still stuck on what happened earlier in the office. Tania’s slap. The humiliation. The way everyone was staring. She could still feel the sting on her cheek.

"Are you cold?" Armaan asked suddenly. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.

"No Sir," Ayesha replied quickly.

"Then why are you hugging yourself?"

Ayesha looked down. She was. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. It was a habit. Whenever she felt nervous, scared, or upset, she did this.

"Force of habit," she whispered.

Without another word, Armaan reached over to the dashboard and turned the heater up. As he did, his fingers accidentally brushed against hers where they were resting near the gear.

Both of them froze.

"Sorry," Armaan said quickly, pulling his hand back like he got burned.

"It’s okay," Ayesha mumbled, staring at her lap. Her cheeks felt hot. Was it from the heater or from his touch?

Silence fell again. But this time it was different. Not awkward. Just... heavy.

After a while, Armaan spoke again. "Did you have lunch today?"

Ayesha blinked. "What?"

"Lunch. Did you eat anything today?"

The question caught her off guard. "I... I was busy with the proposal, Sir. I forgot."

Armaan’s jaw tightened. His grip on the steering wheel became tighter. He made a sharp turn at the next signal.

Ayesha noticed. "Sir? This isn’t the way to Mohammadpur."

"I know," Armaan said. His eyes were fixed on the road. "We’re going to Gulshan."

"Gulshan? But why?"

"Food," he said simply. "You can’t work on my proposal if you faint from hunger in the middle of the night."

Ayesha wanted to protest. She wanted to say that she could just go home and eat. But her stomach betrayed her and growled loudly. She felt her face go red with embarrassment.

Armaan heard it. The corner of his lips twitched. Almost a smile. "See?"

Ten minutes later, they stopped in front of a small restaurant. It wasn’t fancy. Not one of those 5-star places that CEOs usually go to. This was a normal, local restaurant with plastic chairs, yellow tube lights, and the smell of spices in the air. It was almost empty because of the rain. Only 2-3 tables were occupied.

Armaan got out first. He came around to her side and opened the door. Once again, he held his blazer over her head as they ran inside. Both of them were a little wet by the time they reached a corner table.

The waiter came. Armaan didn’t even look at the menu.

"Khichuri, begun bhaja, dim bhuna, and two cups of cha. Fast," he ordered.

Ayesha stared at him. "You... you eat here, Sir?"

Armaan leaned back in his chair. For a moment, the powerful CEO mask was gone. He looked younger. Tired.

"My mother used to bring me here when I was 12," he said quietly. "Before my father died. Before I had to become the CEO everyone is scared of."

He said it so casually, like it was nothing. But Ayesha heard the sadness behind his words.

The food arrived quickly. Steaming hot khichuri with ghee on top, crispy begun bhaja, and dim bhuna.

They ate in silence. But it wasn’t the uncomfortable silence from the car. This was peaceful. For the first time in days, Ayesha felt her shoulders relax. She realized how hungry she actually was.

Halfway through the meal, Armaan took the egg from his plate and put it on Ayesha’s plate.

"You need protein," he said. "You look exhausted."

"Thank you... Sir," Ayesha said softly.

"Armaan," he corrected her.

Ayesha looked up, confused. "What?"

"Call me Armaan. When we’re not in the office."

Ayesha almost choked on her cha. "I... I can’t do that. You’re my boss."

"And because of that," Armaan leaned forward, his dark eyes locked on hers, "I have to pretend in the office that I don’t care. That you’re just another employee." He paused. "But outside these four walls? I do care, Ayesha. A lot."

Ayesha’s heart stopped. The rain outside seemed to get louder, hitting the tin roof of the restaurant. She didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing. She just nodded slightly and looked down at her plate.

After dinner, they got back in the car. The rain had slowed down to a light drizzle. The streets were still flooded but it was manageable now.

The 20-minute drive to Mohammadpur was quiet. But it was a comfortable quiet. Armaan played soft instrumental music. Ayesha watched the raindrops race each other on the window.

When they reached her building, the gate was half underwater.

"Good night, Ayesha," Armaan said as she opened the door.

"Good night... Armaan Sir," she replied. Then she caught herself and corrected with a small, shy smile. "Armaan."

His lips twitched. For the first time, Ayesha saw a real smile on his face. Not a CEO smile. A genuine one.

"Good girl," he said softly.

Ayesha ran inside before her heart could beat out of her chest.

Up in her small room, she quickly changed into dry clothes and sat on her bed. Her phone was on the table. It buzzed.

Unknown number:

"You think you won? This is just the beginning. Stay away from him. Or you’ll regret it. - T"

Ayesha’s hands started shaking. Tania. It had to be her. Without thinking, she blocked the number immediately and threw the phone on the bed.

30 seconds later, it buzzed again. This time it was a saved number.

Armaan: "Reach basha safely?"

Ayesha picked up the phone with trembling fingers. She stared at the message for a long time.

She typed slowly, her heart pounding: "Yes. Thank you... Armaan."

She hit send and immediately regretted it. Was it too forward? Too informal?

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Finally:

Armaan: "Sleep well."

Ayesha put her phone down and hugged her pillow to her chest. Her heart was racing. Her mind was a mess.

Outside, the rain had finally stopped. The city was quiet.

But inside her, a storm had just begun.

Because the line between boss and employee...

Had just gotten very, very blurry.