The morning at Zenith Global felt different. The lobby buzzed with anticipation as Fiona — Dev’s ex-girlfriend — walked in with effortless grace. Her cream suit, her confident stride, and the way she greeted the receptionist made heads turn instantly.

Thripthi noticed her immediately. Not because Fiona demanded attention, but because Dev’s expression shifted the moment he saw her. It wasn’t shock. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter, something Thripthi couldn’t read.

Scene 1: In Dev’s Office

Thripthi carried her files into Dev’s office, but Fiona was already seated across from him, laughing softly at something he had said. Thripthi paused at the door, her grip tightening on the folder.

Thripthi (calmly, placing the file): “Your schedule for today. I’ve highlighted the key meetings.”

Dev (nodding, distracted): “Thank you.”

Fiona (smiling at Thripthi): “You must be Thripthi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Thripthi (smiling politely): “All good things, I hope.”

Fiona (with a hint of playfulness): “Depends on who’s telling the story.”

Thripthi’s smile didn’t falter, but inside, something twisted.

Scene 2: Dev Watching Thripthi

Later that afternoon, Fiona lingered in Dev’s office, reminiscing about old projects. Thripthi entered with another file, her steps slower this time.

Fiona (laughing): “Remember Paris? That deal almost fell apart until you charmed the investors.”

Dev (smiling faintly): “I remember. Discipline saved it, not charm.”

Thripthi (interjecting, voice steady): “Discipline and adaptability. That’s what saves deals.”

Dev glanced at her, catching the spark in her eyes. Fiona tilted her head, amused.

Fiona: “You’re quick, Thripthi. I like that.”

Thripthi (smiling faintly): “I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to deliver.”

Thripti did not face or see Dev eye to eye instead she kept the files and left his office room.

When Fiona stepped out to take a call, Dev leaned back in his chair. Through the small gap of his office door, he saw Thripthi at her desk. She was restless — tapping her pen, adjusting her files, glancing toward his office every few seconds.

Her thoughts raced: Who is Fiona? Why is she here? Why does she laugh like she belongs here?

Dev watched silently, amused. Every flicker of her expression — the narrowed eyes, the faint pout, the way she pressed her lips together — was a revelation.

Dev (to himself, smiling faintly): “Cute.”

Thripthi’s Restlessness

By late afternoon, Thripthi couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed her chair back, muttering under her breath.

Thripthi (to herself): “I can’t break my head anymore. I need to know.”

She walked straight to the receptionist, her tone calm but her eyes sharp.

Thripthi: “The woman who came in this morning — Fiona. Who is she?”

Receptionist (hesitant): “She’s… Mr. Dev’s former girlfriend. She’s here to propose a business collaboration.”

Thripthi’s heart skipped.

Thripthi (quietly): “Ex-girlfriend?”

Receptionist (nodding): “Yes. They were close once. Some say they might get together again.”

Thripthi’s grip tightened on her folder. She forced a smile, thanked the receptionist, and walked back to her desk. But inside, her thoughts spiraled. Ex-girlfriend. Business proposal. Getting together again?

Evening Tension

That evening, Fiona was still in Dev’s office. Thripthi hesitated at the door, then spoke.

Thripthi (softly): “Long day.”

Dev (looking up, steady): “Long, but productive.”

Fiona (smiling): “We were just catching up. Old friends, you know.”

Thripthi (calm, but sharp): “Old friends don’t usually spend the whole day in someone’s office.”

Dev’s gaze flickered toward her, amused.

Dev (quietly, to Thripthi): “You’re jealous.”

Thripthi (defensive, but playful): “I’m observant.”

Dev (leaning back, enjoying it): “Observant with a spark. Adorable.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t look away.

Closing Scene

Later that night, Thripthi replayed the day in her mind. Fiona’s laughter, Dev’s rare smiles, her own sharp words. She couldn’t explain why it mattered so much, but it did.

Dev, meanwhile, sat in his study, recalling Thripthi’s reactions. He had seen jealousy before, but never like this — never so subtle, so unspoken, so… endearing.

Chapter Eighteen wasn’t about Fiona’s return. It was about jealousy — the kind that reveals what words cannot, and the quiet joy of watching someone care more than they admit.