“I’m going there.”“Boss, what do you mean?” Peter asked, suspicion clouding his face. He had been watching Ashvin since yesterday, ever since he had tasted those pastries. Something had shifted. It was subtle—but Peter knew his boss well enough to notice.Ashvin had been distracted. Not just distracted—unsettled.There had been a look in his eyes. One Peter didn’t like.“I want to go to the bakery,” Ashvin finally said after a brief pause, his tone calm but firm.Peter blinked. “You can’t possibly eat pastries for the rest of your life, boss. You know there is something called real food, right?”Ashvin didn’t respond.Instead, he stood up smoothly, reaching for his suit jacket. He slipped it on with practiced ease, his expression unreadable, distant—like his mind was somewhere else entirely.“Boss, we have a meeting,” Peter continued, following him quickly. “You can’t just leave.”Ashvin paused, then slowly turned his head.“Last time I checked,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his
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