The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the Budapest office, casting long shadows on the pristine desks and sparse decor. Tara Tandon entered. She swept in like a gust of wind, her infectious smile filling the sterile office with warmth.

"Good morning, Rahul!" She chimed, bustling to her seat.

"Morning," he replied, turning from the window. The shimmering Danube reflected his moods—a mix of calm and turbulence.

Tara transitioned effortlessly into work mode, her excitement palpable. "The software's looking solid! I think we're almost there. I can't wait for the client to see it!"

"Fingers crossed," Rahul said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Last time was a near disaster."

"Remember when we accidentally uploaded the wrong version?" Tara laughed, leaning back in her chair, her smile contagious. "Piya and Zoltan saved us by staying up all night fixing that glitch."

"Someone had to do it," Rahul smirked, already feeling the pulse of camaraderie reestablishing its place in the office. "How soon can your daughter join us?"

Tara laughed as she deftly swiped her phone and showed him pictures of her newborn daughter. "Look at this little angel! She keeps me up all night, but every moment is worth it."

He leaned in closer, his grin widening at the sight. "She has your eyes."

"Is that a good thing?" Tara chuckled, "Her father says I have eyes like a cat!"

"Absolutely," Rahul replied, memories of his childhood with Kavita flooding his mind—a fleeting joy. "You really are a natural, Tara."

"But enough about me," she transitioned, her tone shifting. "What's going on with Piya? I've been worried."

The smile faded from Rahul's face. "I should've seen it coming," he murmured, guilt tinging his words. "Her outburst at the party rattled everyone."

"No one who cares about her should be surprised," Tara added gravely. "She's been bottling everything up for so long. It was bound to happen."

A silence settled, heavier this time. "I didn't realize the depth of her struggles," Rahul admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I thought she was managing."

"She hides it well," Tara replied, her voice softer. "I remember when we first met."

"Tell me," he encouraged, curiosity igniting amidst his concern.

"It was in this tiny computer repair shop. Full of clutter. She worked day and night, even slept there. though I think it was because she could't afford a place" Tara's eyes lit up with the memory. "I was so impressed by her determination."

"Sounds like her," Rahul mused, recalling all the times Piya managed to disappear within her headphones, a fortress of solitude. "Did she ever take a break?"

"No." Tara sighed. "One time, my father needed to get his desktop repaired. That is when he saw her. He was worried sick. A week later, my parents decided she needed to move in with us. But Piya, she refused to come home unless she could contribute."

"Contribute how?" His brow furrowed.

"She cleaned the whole house as repayment. Even washed the clothes, and keeping her job that the omputer repair shop. Can you imagine?" Tara shook her head. "That was Piya—too proud to accept help."

"Proud, but... is that really strength?" Rahul questioned, leaning forward, the intensity in his eyes sharpening.

"It's her shield," Tara stated firmly. "After her mother died, that pride shifted into a wall of solitude. She has such a hard time letting anyone in, even me."

Rahul frowned, reflecting. "I always thought she just enjoyed being alone. It felt like she needed space."

"More like she's terrified of it." Tara bit her lip. "Sometimes, I think her refusal to accept help or charity makes her vulnerable."

Rahul's expression darkened. "Did my father and I add to her burdens? All those times I thought she was strong..."

"Maybe she felt like she had to prove herself," Tara suggested, her voice gentle. "You're not the only one who knows her as that talkative, vibrant girl before her mother passed. I never met that girl and I am her best friend"

Silence enveloped them, the weight of truth resting heavily on Rahul's shoulders. "You're right. I only see her through the lens of our current relationship."

Tara looked at him, unwavering. "Her past shapes her; we both know that. And then she was alone to navigate that pain."

"What can I do?" Rahul's voice tightened, anxiety bubbling beneath the surface.

"Be patient. Show up," Tara advised, her gaze steady. "She needs to see that she's not a burden."

"Easy for you to say," he quipped lightly, though the struggle quaked within. "You've been her voice when she's lost it."

"But you have a way to reach her. You just need to break those barriers down gently," Tara urged, leaning in as if to bridge the space between them and Piya.

"Gently," Rahul repeated, feeling the weight of her innocence. "When I approached her at the office, it felt like I was walking a tightrope."

Tara chuckled softly. "Those are some delicate ropes. Trust takes time. We can create a safe space for her."

"Safe space..." He nodded, considering how to construct that for both himself and Piya. "That's the key."

"Yes! Let's brainstorm ways to encourage her to start talking about her feelings instead of locking them up. We can't push too hard, but we can't give in to her silence either," Tara encouraged, a fire igniting in her eyes.

"I might've been oblivious, but I can be better," Rahul declared, resolve knitting itself into his tone.

"You already are better," Tara countered, allowing the compliment to hang in the air, shifting the mood around them. "Just remember, every time you reach out, she sees your support, even if she doesn't respond."

Rahul nodded, his determination crystallizing. "Maybe I can write her a letter—something to show my willingness to hear her out. A reminder that she doesn't have to shoulder this alone."

"Great idea! Only that kind of thing works in movies and romantic novel," Tara said, growing more animated. "Get real Rahul."

Tara's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We could organize a surprise lunch, where it'll just be the three of us, and the baby and maybe Zoltan."

"A distraction?" Rahul chuckled, picturing Piya's sceptical expressions.

"Not a distraction—just a safe space to let down her guard," Tara corrected. "We'll ease her back into camaraderie."

"She'll probably feel cornered, you know?" Rahul quipped, recalling Piya's avoidance tactics.

"Corners can't hold us down if we come in with love and support," Tara countered lightly.

Rahul chuckled. "You make it sound so easy. But she's stubborn, Tara. You know how she is."

"Stubborn, yes," Tara acknowledged, her expression thoughtful.

"Hmm. I'll think about how to weave everyone in," he replied, the gratitude in his eyes unmistakable.

The conversation drifted lightly back to office matters, but Tara's initial commitment to Piya prolonged the buoyancy. Their laughter rang out, infusing the workspace with renewed energy.

As the office buzzed around them, Tara's attention momentarily flicked to a coworker. "Oh no, not another tech mishap?" she exclaimed, shaking her head in mock despair.

"It wouldn't be a normal day otherwise!" Rahul responded, fighting the remnants of weightiness with shared lightness.

As they mulled over trouble-shooting, Tara glanced at him, her expression softening. "We can't lose patience with Piya."

"Never," he vowed, the sincerity of his tone wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

"I hope she knows we're here for her, because she's not alone in this," Tara said, her voice ringing with devotion.