Chapter 1 The Girl Who Didn't Believe in Love

The Girl Who Didn't Believe in Love

Mira had always believed that love was nothing more than a beautiful distraction—a myth wrapped in flowers, promises, and pain. Her world was made of deadlines, coffee-fueled nights, and the quiet comfort of books that didn’t lie. While her friends dreamed of roses and rings, she focused on job interviews, savings goals, and getting promoted before 30.

To her, love was chaos. And Mira hated chaos.

Her parents’ failed marriage had taught her early on that people change, promises break, and the only person you can rely on is yourself. So she became her own safe place—strong, focused, and guarded.

Until the day she met him.

---

It was just another rushed morning. Mira spilled coffee on her white shirt and cursed under her breath as she tried to clean the stain with a tissue that only made it worse. She rushed into the elevator of the office building, cheeks flushed from running. The doors were about to close when a hand stopped them.

A tall figure stepped in.

He wore a dark blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a faint smile on his lips. His eyes met hers, and something in their warmth caught her off guard.

“Rough morning?” he asked.

She blinked. “You could say that.”

“I’m Riyan,” he said casually, as if they were already friends. “New consultant here.”

Mira gave a small nod. “Mira.”

Silence.

Then came the ding of the elevator. They stepped out. She didn’t expect to see him again.

But fate—Mira didn’t believe in fate—had other plans.

---

Riyan kept showing up.

In the cafeteria line, offering her a fresh coffee the next morning—“No sugar, right? I overheard you cursing yesterday.”

In the corridor, making her laugh with a stupid pun.

In meetings, where he somehow knew exactly how to support her ideas without making it obvious.

She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or intrigued.

Mira wasn’t used to attention. Not the soft kind, anyway. And Riyan’s attention was never loud or overwhelming—it was patient, like he was waiting for her to notice he was still there.

One afternoon, after a particularly stressful meeting, he handed her a KitKat bar and said, “For surviving the war.”

She stared at it. Then at him. “You’re very persistent.”

He grinned. “Only when I see something worth the effort.”

Her heart did that annoying thing again—a small flutter she hadn’t felt in years.

---

She told herself it meant nothing.

That Riyan was just being friendly.

That her heart was just tired, not interested.

But the truth?

A tiny crack had formed in her well-built walls.

And that was how it started—the unraveling of a girl who didn’t believe in love.

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