Jace was at his place, hosting his new team for a casual get together, some dinner, and light conversation. He was mid-sentence—something about vision, ownership, the usual firestarter stuff—when the bell rang. Hari went to get it. Jace barely paused.
Jace and his team was standing in a casual circle, laughing and chatting, when he heard—
“Oh my God, is there a party going on here?!”
That voice. Reva.
He turned to see her standing there, a mix of shock and confusion on her face. Before Jace could move, she seized Hari’s hand, her words a hushed scold. “Why did you call me here? Are you crazy?”
Hari shrugged, casual as ever. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. Chill,”
“It is a big deal,” she shot back. Still, after all the arguing, she ended up leaning quietly against the wooden table near the entrance, standing there with her face turned away, observing from a distance.
Jace moved toward her, slow, measured.
“Oh… you’re here?” she said, almost caught off guard.
“Come, have a pizza,” Jace offered warmly.
“Oh no, no, I can’t,” She waved her hand, polite but firm. “God knows whose party is this—Hari just dragged me here. I wasn’t even invited. I can’t just eat here.”
Her restraint amused him. “It’s my party,” he replied evenly, “And I’m really glad you came.”
Her eyes flicked up to him, surprised, like she hadn’t considered that possibility.
“Hari mentioned you might show up—it’s completely fine,” he added, almost as if reassuring her mattered more than anything else in the room.
After a pause, she finally accepted a slice, and when Hari returned with a drink for her, she took it too. Her gaze wandered, taking in the wide rooms, the high ceiling, the glass windows spilling city light into the hall.
“Hari, you have such a big house,” she said, genuine curiosity softening her voice.
“It’s actually Jace’s house,” Hari clarified.
Her lips parted. “Oh.” And for a second, Jace saw her thoughts flicker across her face—so he’s rich?
The realization seemed to unsettle her. She set the plate down abruptly. “What am I even doing here? I should go.”
“Wait, don’t. Don’t make a big deal out of it—it’s fine. I’ll just grab the list. Stay here,” he vanished before she could argue again.
Left with no excuse, Reva crossed to the sofa and perched on the edge, phone in hand, her focus deliberately away from Jace. He lingered with his team for a while longer, but when her soft laughter drifted toward him, it pulled his attention.
“What’s so funny?” Jace asked, sliding into the seat at the other end of the couch.
“Oh, Kung Fu Panda. It’s such a funny movie,” she replied, still smiling.
“You laugh watching cartoons?” he smirked.
“I laugh at everything,” she replied easily. “Cartoons, dramas, even ads sometimes. And I cry too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She turned back to her screen, unbothered, leaving Jace oddly charmed by her lack of pretense.
Soon, a teammate sat beside her on the couch. “Uhh, I think I’m getting late. Should leave.”
“Yeah, traffic…” Jace nodded.
“It’s just 8 km but takes like 30 minutes in this jam.”
“Where do you live?” Reva asked.
“Sector 15.”
“Uhhh, yeah. Try leaving after 10. Lesser rush.”
“And you? Where do you live?”
“Oh, not here. I’m from Central Delhi—almost a 2-hour drive.”
“Wow. But you seem to know Gurugram pretty well.”
“I used to live here. Then WFH happened so I moved back to my parents’. Now it’s WFO again and I’m struggling to find a decent rental.”
“Yeah, prices are crazy—but the quality?” the guy added.
“Exactly! Not one place I’ve seen so far feels right.”
Jace quietly observed how easily Reva carried a casual conversation.
“Are you engaged?” the guy asked.
He seemed married, probably in his late 30s, so Reva felt comfortable replying.
“No.” she smiled.
“Well, if you were, you’d probably have a big diamond ring,” he chuckled.
“I wouldn’t want one anyway. I’d ask for a simple ring… just like our simple love.”
She smiled warmly.
The warmth in her words settled in the air. Jace, unable to stop himself, added, “Whoever it is—he’ll be lucky.”
“Come on, let’s eat. It’ll be late otherwise.” He stood up, gesturing toward the dinner table. He said goodbye to the teammate and walked with Reva.
They sat down to eat while Jace kept standing up every now and then to bid farewell to his team members.
“Thanks so much for the dinner, it’s really good. I had no idea there was a party here—I thought Hari invited me to his place,” Reva said.
“It’s not really a party, just a small team gathering. Like I said, don’t worry. Hari informed me—I was expecting you.”
There was a subtle smile on Jace’s face, one of those rare ones that seemed to calm everything around it.
“By the way, where is Hari?”
“His place is about 20 minutes from here, so a round trip should take 40… maybe 60 with traffic,” Jace replied.
“Oh,” Reva nodded.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll keep you company till he gets back—and if it’s too late, I’ll send you home.”
What a gentleman, Reva thought. But she said, “Oh no, it’s fine. He should be here soon. And you should focus on your guests.”
“That’s my new team,” Jace smiled. “I host them for dinners or small gatherings to hear their thoughts, bond with them outside work. It helps.”
Eventually, the last guest left. The two of them remained at the table, silence draping itself comfortably between bites, glances meeting and breaking apart.
“You know,” Jace said suddenly, his tone almost careless, “if you ever need to—you can stay here.”
Reva’s eyes widened. “What?! You’re inviting me to stay?”
“You said you’re looking for a place in Gurugram.”
“Do you invite everyone to stay like that?” she asked, half-laughing, half-shocked.
“No. You just saw—they all left. I’m just offering you.”
“How can you offer that to someone who’s basically a stranger?”
“I’ve known Jenna and Hari since childhood. If you’re their friend, you’re not a stranger. And… you seem safe.”
Silence again as they continued eating, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.
Finally, Hari returned. “Forty minutes, exactly. Did you rush?” Jace asked.
“Of course, couldn’t keep her waiting,” Hari said, handing Reva some fabric samples.
“Help me pick baby clothes and sleeping stuff with this material,” he requested.
“Don’t worry, I’m a local here,” Reva replied confidently. “Leave it to me.” and started heading out.
“Will you be okay going alone? I can drop you,” Jace offered.
“No, no—it’s okay, don’t worry,” Reva replied.
“Really. Let me.”
Hari interrupted, “Don’t worry—he’s not dropping you. His driver will.”
“It’s fine, really. I’ll go,” Reva insisted and left.
Jace gave Hari a long look.
“What?” Hari asked, genuinely confused.
“Seriously, what?!”
“…Ohhh. Don’t tell me you were planning to drop her?” Hari finally realized and looked shocked.
“Of course I was. Was that not obvious?” Jace muttered, annoyed, and walked away.
That night, as Reva reached home and got ready for bed, she checked her phone—and guess what?
Jace had followed her on Instagram.
She smiled wide as she scrolled through his profile.
“OMG, so many followers! Who are you, seriously?” she texted.
Jace replied:
“An open account! Who are you, seriously?”
She teased:
“Your profile’s too boring. All work and no soul. Not a single picture that shows the real you. I’m not following back.”
And with that, Reva and Jace stopped texting for the night.
But as Jace sat scrolling through his own profile, he noticed—every reel was about productivity, ambition, business insights—like a personal TED stage on loop.
He used to be proud of that.
Now… he wasn’t so sure.
—
Reva’s POV
I sat across from him—me on a chair, him on the couch.
The space between us pulsed with tension, thick with something unspoken.
I looked into his eyes, then down to his lips—and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. They pulled me in like gravity.
In one swift move, he reached forward and dragged my chair closer.
Closer.
Until my knees brushed his.
He leaned forward, slowly, deliberately.
His fingers brushed against my shoulder, featherlight, then glided down the length of my arm—tracing every inch until they found my hand.
He laced his fingers through mine. Our palms pressed together, warm, tight.
My breath hitched.
I leaned in, barely an inch at a time.
Nose to nose, we hovered.
So close, I could feel his breath mingling with mine.
Our lips hovered—aching, hesitant, hungry—but held back.
Just the tension of almost.
His eyes flicked to my mouth. Mine to his.
We watched each other, holding back fire by the thread of a breath.
Then—he tugged me up, off the chair, onto his lap.
My thighs slid across his, heat meeting heat.
His chest against mine.
My breath stuttered.
He let go of my hand. One hand slid up the back of my neck, firm but gentle, pulling me even closer.
The other slipped down, firm and unashamed, gripping my waist… my ass… guiding me, pressing me down onto him.
I moved, just slightly—and the friction was enough to send sparks crackling down my spine.
His lips brushed my cheek, then lingered near my ear.
His voice dropped, husky, rough with restraint.
“We… can’t do this.”
And then—
I woke up.
I stared at the ceiling, heart racing, breath still uneven.
The sheets clung to my skin—sweat or heat or shame, I couldn’t tell.
That dream. His hands. The way he looked at me.
I touched my lips, like they were still tingling.
I pressed my palms into my face.
What the hell, Jace.
The first time I’ve ever had one like this—so vivid, so real—and you were in it.
Why’d you hold my hand like that?
I rolled onto my side, groaning into my pillow.
We’ve been meeting for quite some time now.
Every time I go to the office, a quick coffee turns into our silent excuse to see each other again.
You’re adorable Jace, you know that?
You laugh with me like it matters.
You listen to me—really listen.
I see it in your eyes… the way you look at me with that warm smile and those calm, steady eyes.
And God, it’s shy of me to ask, but damn it—I want to.
I want to ask why he looks at me like that.
But I can’t.
I’m too scared.
Scared of what you’ll say.
Because you confuse me.
Why do you keep asking to meet again and again… only to rush off to meetings right after?
You keep space between us, like a wall I can’t cross—
Is it because you want me to feel safe…
or because you don’t see me as your match?
You open doors for me.
Carry my bag sometimes.
Put your arm out when the crowd surges—to shield me.
But then you tell me to put my seatbelt on myself.
You don’t talk about your family, or your life beyond work.
Only your new project. Things I could find in your interviews online.
Once, I tried to bring up relationships—casually.
You said you had none.
None? Really?
A man like you—perfect, composed, so damn attractive—and no dirty history?
I didn’t buy it. Still don’t.
You always pay the bill, even when I fight you over it.
“No girl pays” policy, you say. So I’m not being treated specially, huh?
But then, why do you wait to drop me to the metro?
Is that part of your “no girl” policy too?
I could’ve handled all of this—until you touched me.
When that car sped past in the parking lot and nearly hit me—
You grabbed my hand and didn’t let go.
Walked me all the way to your car.
I saw it in your face, Jace.
The shift.
The anger. The fear.
You were disturbed.
But still—you don’t get to hold my hand like that.
You don’t get to make me feel all this… and leave me guessing.
I blinked into the half-dark room.
Did I just say that?
Please tell me no one heard that.
Great. 6 a.m. and I’m arguing with a dream version of him.
Enough, Jace.
You don’t get to keep me confused anymore.
No more mixed signals.
I need to know what you feel—
Because I’m not going to sit in the fog of almost any longer.
Chai & Matcha Diaries 
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