“Ma’am, you can’t enter. Hriday sir doesn’t allow anyone into his room—only Gauri is permitted.”

One of the security guards stood firmly in front of Disha, blocking her path.

Disha raised an eyebrow, irritation flashing in her eyes.

“And who is this Gauri?”

“She’s the cook, ma’am.”

Disha gave a forced smile.

“Oh... don’t worry. You can go. I’m Hriday’s fiancée.”

The guard hesitated but eventually stepped aside, and Disha let herself in.

She wandered through the living room, eyes sweeping over the space, until she spotted Gauri in the kitchen.

“Gauri, right?”

Gauri turned, surprised.

“Yes. Who are you? Are you sir’s sister or—”

“NO!”
Disha’s sharp voice cut her off, startling Gauri.

“I’m his fiancée.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,”

Gauri said, startled but respectful.

“Bring me a cup of tea.”

Without argument, Gauri nodded and turned back toward the kitchen.

Hriday stepped out of his room and stopped cold at the sight of Disha casually handling one of his antiques.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was clipped with irritation.

“Oh Hriday!”

Disha grinned.

“How are you?”

“That’s none of your business,”

Hriday said flatly.

“Don’t be rude. I’m your guest.”

“You’re an unwanted guest,”

he retorted, taking the antique from her hands.

“And I don’t remember inviting you to touch anything in my house.”

“I was just looking…”

“Disha Ranawat,”

Hriday snapped, placing the item back in its spot. “This is my house. You don’t get to stroll in and pretend we’re engaged.”

He raised his voice.

“Gauri!”

Gauri rushed out, drying her hands.

“Sir, I was just making tea for your—fiancée.”

“Fiancée?”

Hriday scoffed.

“Whose fiancée? Because I’m pretty sure no one asked me.”

Disha shifted uncomfortably. Gauri looked between them, confused.

“Guards!”

Hriday called out.

“Who let this woman in?”

The guards looked terrified. One began to stammer, but before he could respond, Hriday grabbed Gauri by the hand and pulled her into the kitchen.

“Sir, what are you doing? Let go!”

“Ssh.”

“But—”

“I said ssh, Ms. Gauri.”

He stopped a few inches from her, his breath warm on her cheek. Gauri stood frozen, heart pounding in confusion.

Hriday held the moment just long enough—for Disha to witness it from the hallway—and then stepped back.

As expected, Disha spun on her heel and stormed out.

In the car, Disha dialed a number furiously.

“Hello my baby!”

Sanjana answered sweetly.

“Bua! You said Hriday would love me. But I just saw him practically kissing his maid!”

“What?! Hriday Shekhawat, the son of Shikhar Singh, falling for a maid?”

Sanjana laughed bitterly.

“He has poor taste. His father wouldn’t let a woman within ten feet if she wasn’t his wife.”

“Bua! I’m serious! He was touching her face—like they were already lovers!”

Sanjana smirked over the line.

“Let him do what he wants. But mark my words: whatever he’s doing now, it’s you he’ll spend his wedding night with.”

Disha smiled.
“I believe you, Bua.”

Back in Chandigarh…

“Where’s your madam?”

Shikhar asked, noticing the empty dining table.

“Sir, she’s in the garden. Sanjana madam came to meet her.”

Shikhar sighed.

“Serve me dinner after I freshen up.”

Later, as he ate silently, Maithili joined him.

“Shikhar, when did you get back?”

“While you were busy with your best friend.”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

Shikhar didn’t respond. He had his reasons—reasons he kept to himself. He only tolerated Sanjana for Maithili’s sake.

One week later…

Gauri hadn’t spoken to Hriday at all. She performed her duties with robotic precision and ignored his presence. Hriday, though seemingly unaffected, was inwardly restless.

“Why is she ignoring me?”

he muttered, pacing in his study.

“You didn’t touch her, Hriday. You were just close…”

He shook his head.

“Still. It was wrong. You have to say sorry.”

The next morning...

Gauri stood silently beside Hriday after serving breakfast. He cleared his throat—twice.

“Attitude toh dekho madam ke…”

(Look at Madam's attitude )

he muttered under his breath.

He even fake-coughed. Another maid walked by and handed him water.

“Sir, water,”

she said. Hriday glared at her. It wasn’t her he wanted attention from.

Later that day, there was a knock on Hriday’s door.

“Yes?” he said, not looking up from his laptop.

“Sir… Gauri wants to take a leave today,” a maid said softly.

Hriday stopped typing. “Why?”

“I… I don’t know, sir.”

“Then why are you asking? Doesn’t she have a tongue?”

The maid flinched. “S-sorry sir. I’ll send her.”

Hriday leaned back in his chair, tension tightening his jaw.

“Let’s see what excuse she gives me now.”