Gauri pressed the doorbell of the apartment.

It was a very luxurious residential area. Outsiders usually needed prior appointments to meet the residents. Gauri had come to meet one of her clients who wanted to change the interior design of his house.

She dialed his number.

"Hello, sir, I'm here, but I'm not able to find your house."

"Look at the blue-colored house."

"Yes, sir, I found it. Is it your house?"

"No, no. Besides that, look at the two white houses. The right one — that's our house. Come quickly, Ms. Poddar. I have to leave for the office."

The man cut the call.

Gauri looked ahead and noticed two white houses beside the blue one. They looked almost identical.

"Which one could it be...?"

She hesitated for a moment.

"Wait, let me check."

Assuming it was the right-side house, she walked toward it and rang the bell. A guard opened the gate.

"Who do you want to meet?" the guard asked in broken Hindi. He was not Bengali.

"Mr. Singh hai?" Gauri asked politely.

"Yes, he is inside. Come in. Boss also informed me that a new girl is going to come for work."

Gauri frowned slightly at his words but followed him inside.

"Mukesh... take her inside," the guard instructed another servant.

The servant nodded and guided Gauri in.

As she entered, her eyes widened. The interior of the house was stunning — elegant chandeliers, imported marble flooring, perfectly placed decorative pieces, and high-end furniture. She had never seen such rich and refined interior detailing this closely before. It was her first time entering a house of this standard.

"Ma'am, sit here. When boss calls you, you have to go inside," the servant said.

Gauri nodded and sat down. She looked around again, studying the placement of the lights and the textures of the walls. Unable to resist, she took out her phone to click a picture of a beautifully designed flower vase arrangement.

Just as she was about to capture it, her phone was suddenly snatched from her hand by a strong, muscular man. Startled, she lost her grip, and as he released it abruptly, the phone fell to the floor.

"It's not good to click pictures of my house without my permission, Miss," the man said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Gauri quickly picked up her phone.

"Sorry, sir. I was just curious about the design, so I took a picture. If you don't like it, I'll delete it."

She tried unlocking her phone, but the screen wouldn't respond. It seemed to have malfunctioned after falling.

"Sit there, Miss," Hriday said coldly.

He sat down on the sofa, and Gauri took the seat opposite him.

"Tell me, what can you make?" he asked carelessly, taking out his phone.

"Sir, I don't think you need any de—"

"Shut up and tell me what type of food you can make," Hriday interrupted, massaging his forehead. He wasn't feeling well.

The weather wasn't suiting him, and he hadn't had proper homemade food since shifting here just a day ago. His secretary had arranged everything according to his preferences — except finding a proper cook.

"Fo... food?" Gauri asked, confused.

"Come with me."

He stood up and walked toward the kitchen. Gauri followed him, still unsure of what was happening.

Inside, everything was neatly arranged, fresh ingredients laid out.

"Sir, why are we in the kitchen?" she asked.

"Because I don't believe in words. I check people's qualifications myself. You're going to cook a dish for me. After that, I'll decide whether to give you this job or not."

"But sir, I am— I mean, if you want to know about my qualification, you have to see my work—"

Hriday finally looked at her properly. His gaze paused on her lips, then shifted to her eyes. Something about them felt familiar.

"Sir...?" she called, noticing his silence.

"Cook whatever you make best and serve me within thirty minutes."

He walked out of the kitchen.

Gauri stood there for a moment, confused and slightly irritated. But as a struggling interior designer, she had faced worse. Once, a client had asked her to change their bedsheet just to test her neatness. Another time, an elderly woman had asked her to mop the floor, assuming she was a maid.

So, cooking... perhaps this was just another "test."

She removed her dupatta and tied it properly around her waist. Her hair was already braided, so it wouldn't disturb her.

Now the question was — what to cook?

"I'll make simple rice and dal. I can prepare that in thirty minutes," she muttered to herself.

After thirty minutes, a maid informed her that the boss was waiting in the dining area.

With the help of a servant, Gauri placed the dishes on the table.

Hriday looked at her.

"You just cooked these simple dishes?" he asked.

"Sir, simple is always best. Let me serve you."

She served him quietly.

Hriday looked at the plate and then at her. She appeared slightly nervous, though she was trying not to show it.

"If the food tastes—"

He stopped mid-sentence and took a spoonful.

He paused.

The taste was simple. Warm. Homely.

He finished the entire plate.

Gauri stood there, waiting, thinking about telling him her design ideas for his house.

After washing his hands, Hriday returned to the living room where she was seated, checking something on her phone.

He cleared his throat.

"Ahem."

"Oh, sir."

"Yes, Miss... wait, what is your name?" he asked, sitting down.

"It's Gauri Poddar."

"Are you Bengali?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you can't work under us."

Gauri frowned. "Why, sir?"

"Because we are vegetarians."

She stared at him in confusion. "Sir, I don't understand what you are trying to say. What does be vegetarian have to do with interior designing your house?"

"Interior designing?" Hriday repeated.

"Yes, sir. I'm here for that."

"But aren't you a cook?" he asked.

"Cook?" Gauri was completely confused now.

Hriday raised his eyebrows.

"You are Mr. Singh, right?"

"No. Correct it — Mr. Hriday Singh Shekhawat."

He said it firmly.

Gauri looked at him, stunned.

"But I thought you were Mr. Singh who called me for interior renovation."

Hriday stared at her.

"What are you saying? Speak clearly."

Gauri realized the mistake.

There were two white houses beside the blue one.

She had entered the wrong one.

Without saying anything further, she turned and walked out.

Hriday watched her leave.

"The audacity of this girl," he muttered.

"She walked away without my permission."

He stood there, still confused about what had just happened.