Chapter 3 – The Delay

The return flight from the annual strategy meet was supposed to leave at 6:15 p.m.

It was now 8:00.

The lounge at Z Airport hummed with the dull sounds of travel—rolling suitcases across tiled floors, boarding announcements echoing overhead, the occasional crying toddler testing the patience of an entire gate. The air smelled faintly of strong coffee and overused air-conditioning.

Sana Kapoor shifted in the hard lounge chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. Her cream blazer hung over the backrest in defeat, and her once-neat ponytail had loosened into something messier, strands falling annoyingly into her face.

Her phone screen glowed in her hand, thumb scrolling through social media, though she wasn’t really reading anything. Memes, vacation photos, ads for skin serums—nothing stuck. She was tired. Tired of the day-long sessions. Tired of the small talk. And most of all, tired of waiting for an airline that seemed to think time was optional.

She let out a sigh, just as a familiar voice cut through her fog.

“Guess we’re not leaving anytime soon.”

Her head snapped up.

There he was.

Arjun Malhotra.

Hands casually in his pockets, his carry-on slung over one shoulder, suit jacket folded neatly over his arm like it belonged in a magazine ad. He looked—annoyingly—fresh for someone who had also just sat through twelve hours of endless presentations.

“Seems that way,” Sana said dryly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe they’re waiting for a full moon to take off.”

That earned her a low laugh, the kind that rumbled in his chest. It wasn’t loud, but it was warm enough to tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, nodding to the empty chair beside her.

She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as her pulse inexplicably quickened. “Suit yourself.”

He dropped into the seat, setting his bag by his feet. For a moment, they sat in silence. Not uncomfortable silence—just the kind filled by the background noise of the airport. A boarding call for some other flight rang out, muffled by the chatter of tired passengers. Somewhere nearby, a man argued with his wife about boarding passes.

Sana sipped from her overpriced airport coffee cup, focusing on the bitter taste rather than the awareness that Arjun Malhotra was sitting next to her.

Then his voice came again, quiet, curious.

“You don’t like these events much, do you?”

Her head turned slightly. “What gave me away? My sarcasm or my constant attempts to escape the crowd?”

His lips quirked. “Both. Most people force small talk at those things. You just… don’t bother.”

“Not with strangers,” she replied smoothly.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him like he had all the time in the world. “And I’m still in the stranger category?”

Sana smirked into her coffee cup. “We’ve met twice. I don’t give promotions that fast.”

That pulled a chuckle from him, one that made her stomach flip annoyingly.

“Fair enough,” he said, eyes glinting. Then, after a beat, he added softly, “You’re different.”

The words hung between them.

Her brows lifted. “Different how?”

He tilted his head, studying her in that quiet, steady way that made her want to fidget under the weight of it. But she didn’t. She held his gaze.

Finally, he shrugged lightly. “Not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out.”

Something in the way he said it—calm, certain, like it wasn’t a casual comment but more of a promise—made her heart skip.

She arched a brow, deflecting. “Sounds like you’re running a case study on me, Mr. Malhotra.”

“Arjun,” he corrected automatically, just like before.

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue this time.

Before she could come up with a comeback, the announcement system crackled overhead.

“Attention passengers on flight 6E-212 to Delhi. Boarding will now commence at Gate 14. We apologize for the delay.”

Relief rippled through the lounge as people began gathering their things, stretching, groaning, shuffling toward the gate.

Sana stood, slipping her blazer back over her arm, grabbing her bag. Arjun picked up his carry-on, and for a moment, they moved in sync, stepping out of the lounge and into the steady flow of passengers.

Side by side.

Not quite strangers anymore.

As they walked toward Gate 14, Sana glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked straight ahead, but the faintest smile curved at his lips—as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She looked away quickly, hiding her own smile.

Airports were strange places, she thought. Places where time stalled, where strangers sat shoulder-to-shoulder, where delays forced conversations that wouldn’t otherwise happen.

Maybe she still hated pie charts. Maybe she still hated long corporate events. But delays?

Maybe delays weren’t always so bad.

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