After stepping out of her house, Gauri called her client once again.

"Hello, sir."

"Where are you? I've been waiting for the last thirty minutes!" the client replied irritably.

"Sir, you said the blue house on the right was yours."

"No, no! I meant the one on the left," he corrected hurriedly.

"But earlier you said the right one."

"That house isn't mine. A new man moved in there a few days ago. I don't even know his name, but he seems very arrogant."

Gauri sighed softly and pressed the doorbell.

The door opened.

The man appeared to be in his mid-forties.

"Oh, finally you came," he said with relief.

"Yes, sir. Shall we sit and go through the designs now?"

"Of course. Let me call my wife."

He stepped inside, calling out to her.

On the other side of the city, Hriday angrily dialed his secretary.

"Good morning, boss," Vivek answered.

"Bad morning, Vivek."

Vivek, who had been sitting at the breakfast table with his tea, immediately stood up. His wife looked at him with raised brows. He gestured for her to stay quiet.

"W-why, boss?"

"You're sending me unprofessional cooks who waste my time. I gave you one simple task — find a suitable cook. You know I'm vegetarian and I don't like outside food. Yet you failed."

"Boss, there must be some misunderstanding. I haven't sent anyone yet. I'm still searching according to your preferences. Please give me some time. Until then, I can personally cook breakfast and dinner for you."

His wife covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"No need. I've arranged a home catering service for now. You have one week. Your time starts now."

Hriday cut the call.

Vivek stared at his phone helplessly while his wife giggled.

"I'll deal with you after office," he muttered playfully.

She gulped dramatically. "V-Vivek, no..."

"What happened? Last night you were screaming my name," he teased, kissing her cheek.

She blushed and pushed him lightly. "Go!"

He laughed and left for work.

Gauri's House 

"Gauri, you're turning twenty-five," Kishori said.

"Ma, I know."

"When will you get married? All your friends are married. Some even have children."

"Ma, I'm getting late for work."

"Stop avoiding this topic. One day when I'm gone, you'll understand what I worry about."

Gauri froze. "Ma! Don't say things like that. This is the last time we're discussing this. Otherwise, I won't talk about it again."

"Beta, at least eat properly."

"I'm full."

She hugged her mother tightly.

"Bye, Ma. I'll call you once I reach work."

"Take care. And have lunch on time."

 At Hriday's Car 

"Mom, this is the last time I'm saying this. Don't send me on blind dates."

"Hriday, you're not getting any younger."

"My hair hasn't turned white yet," he replied dryly.

"It will soon."

"I don't care. I won't marry someone you choose."

"What's wrong with my choices?"

"You pick girls who try too hard."

"Hriday! As a boy, you should appreciate that."

"Mom, I'm a man — not a teenager who gets impressed easily."

"Watch your language!"

"Sorry, Mom. But I'm not going."

"Hriday, listen—"

Beep.

He cut the call.

"Sir, we've reached the office," the driver said.

"Get out."

His tone was calm but commanding.

Just then, his phone rang again.

"Yes, Dada ji."

"Hriday, what am I hearing?"

"Mom must have complained again."

"Maithili said nothing. I have already fixed your meeting with Kanika Singhania's daughter."

"Dada ji, I—"

"You will go. That is my order."

Hriday closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, Dada ji."

He could never refuse his grandfather.

The restaurant was dimly lit, soft golden lights reflecting against polished marble floors. A pianist played something slow in the background. It was the kind of place meant for romance.

Hriday hated it already.

He sat straight in his chair, one hand resting on the table, the other casually holding his phone. His expression was unreadable — calm, distant, controlled.

Then she arrived.

Shipra walked toward him confidently, her heels clicking against the floor. She was wearing a deep wine-colored one-piece dress, fitted perfectly, deliberate in design. Her perfume reached him before she did — strong, sweet, overwhelming.

"Hi..." she smiled brightly as she took her seat without waiting for him to pull the chair.

He gave a slight nod. No smile.

She leaned forward immediately, resting her elbows lightly on the table, neckline dipping lower than necessary.

"Hriday, your name sounds so royal. Very old-fashioned... in a powerful way," she said, dragging his name slightly as if tasting it.

He looked at her indifferently.

She tilted her head. "Can I call you Hriday? It sounds... intense."

"No." His voice was calm but firm. "Call me Mr. Shekhawat. I don't like strangers using my name."

For a second, her smile flickered — but she recovered quickly.

"Oh... okay. I'm Shipra." She extended her hand across the table, brushing his fingers intentionally while shaking hands.

He withdrew his hand almost instantly.

The waiter arrived, but she barely looked at the menu.

"I don't usually go on arranged meetings," she said, twirling a strand of her hair. "But when I saw your picture... I was curious."

"I'm not interested," he said bluntly.

She blinked.

"In... what?"

"In this." He gestured vaguely between them. "Marriage. Compatibility. Whatever this is supposed to be."

She straightened in her chair, slightly offended.

"Look, I'm not desperate either," she replied, crossing her legs slowly. "I just thought we could... explore possibilities."

He remained silent.

She leaned closer again. "You seem very possessive. I like that. Dominant men are rare."

"I'm not possessive," he said coldly. "I'm just clear."

She smiled as if she had decoded him.

"You're the silent, dangerous type, right? The kind who acts tough but melts in private?"

His jaw tightened.

"I don't melt," he replied flatly.

She laughed softly. "Oh come on. Every man does."

She intentionally let her fingers trace the rim of her glass, watching his reaction.

There was none.

That irritated her now.

"So tell me, Mr. Shekhawat," she said playfully, "what kind of women do you like? Simple? Bold? Or someone who can handle you?"

He looked directly into her eyes for the first time — and that look was not warm.

"I like peace," he said quietly.

The way he said it made the air between them colder.

Shipra shifted in her seat. For the first time, she felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Relax," she forced a laugh. "You're acting like I'm attacking you."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You're trying too hard."

That hit.

She stopped smiling.

"Excuse me?"

"This performance. The tone. The leaning. The flirting." His voice wasn't loud — but it was sharp. "You don't know me. Yet you're behaving like we're already familiar."

Her face stiffened.

"You think too highly of yourself," she snapped.

"And you mistake confidence for compatibility," he replied.

Silence fell.

The pianist continued playing.

Shipra picked up her purse abruptly. "If you're this arrogant on the first meeting, I can't imagine living with you."

"That makes two of us," he said calmly.

She stood up, heels clicking faster this time. "You could have been polite."

"I was," he replied. "You just didn't like the truth."

She left.

Hriday remained seated for a moment, exhaling slowly. The waiter looked confused from a distance.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

As soon as he sat inside his car, he called his mother.

"Yes, son?" she answered immediately, excitement obvious in her voice.

"Mom... where did you even find her?"

"Oh! Sanjana aunty recommended her. Why? Did you like her? Should I move forward?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "Mom, please. I didn't like her."

Before she could respond, his father's voice came from the background.

"Because you're no less difficult yourself, my son!"

"Dad!" Hriday sighed.

"Shikar!" Maithili scolded. "How can you speak like that?"

"Darling, I'm just joking," his father replied.

Hriday could hear them bickering softly.

A faint smile appeared on his lips despite himself.

He ended the call.

Leaning back against the seat, he stared out of the window at the city lights.

"They'll never change," he murmured to himself.

But somewhere inside, something else bothered him.

Not the girl.

Not the date.

The fact that he was tired of pretending he didn't care.