Hriday entered the meeting room without making a sound.

The door closed softly behind him.

But what caught him off guard wasn't the silence.

It was her.

Gauri was standing near the table, muttering under her breath, rehearsing.

"Look, Mr. Shekhawat, I want you to not take Mr. Saha's property. I know it must have some important value for your company, but I want you to think about Mr. Saha for once before anything else..."

"I don't think from someone else's perspective, Miss."

The deep, commanding voice sliced through the air.

Gauri flinched.

She turned instantly.

And for a second, their eyes locked.

He stood tall. Imposing. Black suit perfectly tailored to his broad frame. Sharp jawline. Unreadable expression.

"Wait..." Hriday narrowed his eyes slightly. "I've seen you somewhere."

Gauri blinked.

"That day," she said, folding her arms across her chest, "you made me cook your food. Now you remember?"

Recognition flashed across his face.

"Ah." A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "We meet again."

He walked toward the head chair and sat down leisurely.

"That day you left without saying anything," he added coolly. "You should remember — Hriday Singh Shekhawat does not appreciate that kind of disrespect."

Gauri stared at him, disbelief written all over her face.

"Mr. Shekhawat, that is not the way to speak. I came there by mistake. You could have corrected me. But you were too busy being... yourself."

His eyes darkened.

"Talk politely, Miss... whatever you are."

"First implement your ideas in your own talking skills," she shot back instantly.

His jaw tightened.

"You—"

A knock interrupted the charged atmosphere.

Vivek entered, slightly tense, holding a file.

"Boss, I got the file."

Hriday broke eye contact first.

"Leave it here."

Vivek placed the file on the table and quietly exited.

Silence settled again.

Gauri glanced at the file.

"Take a seat," Hriday said flatly.

"I'm fine here."

"As you wish."

He opened the file and slid it across the table toward her.

"Read it."

Suspicion flickered in her eyes, but she picked it up.

As she read each line, her expression shifted — confusion... shock... disbelief.

Hriday watched her carefully.

And without realizing it, the corner of his lips curved slightly at her reactions.

"What is this?" she demanded.

He cleared his throat, masking that faint smile.

"I will not acquire Mr. Saha's property."

Her eyes widened.

"But," he continued smoothly, "for that, you will work as my personal cook."

Silence.

Heavy. Thick. Almost absurd.

Gauri looked at him as if he had just suggested something completely outrageous.

"Why?" she asked.

Hriday stood up slowly and walked toward her. He maintained a respectable distance — but his presence still felt overwhelming.

"That," he said calmly, "is not something I need to explain to you."

He tilted his head slightly.

"For now, just understand that I urgently require a cook who can prepare food according to my preference. And that day..." his gaze lingered on her face, "you cooked... tolerably. I can manage."

"I cannot manage," she replied instantly.

He frowned. "What?"

"I have my own job. My own responsibilities. And if you are looking for a cook, you should hire a professional one. Chandigarh is a big city. I'm sure you'll find someone who meets your standards."

She closed the file firmly and placed it back on the table.

Then she turned to leave.

"Wait."

His voice was sharper now.

She didn't stop.

"I said I will not sign this!"

And she walked out of the room without looking back.

The door shut.

Silence filled the space again.

Hriday stood still for a moment.

Then his expression changed — not anger.

Determination.

His jaw set.

"Sign toh tumhe karna padega..." he murmured to himself.

"And this is Hriday Singh Shekhawat's promise to himself."

No one walked away from his terms.

No one.

The night felt heavier when Gauri finally reached home.

Their house wasn't grand or luxurious — but it was warm. Lived-in. Safe. The small veranda light was still on, casting a soft yellow glow across the doorway.

She pushed the door open gently.

Inside, she saw her mother sitting up from the thin mattress laid in the corner of the living room, awakened by the sound.

"Aa geyi meri baachi?"
(You came, my child?)

There was relief in Kishori's voice — the kind only a mother carries.

Gauri closed the door and forced a tired smile.

"Yes, Maa... bahut bhook lagi hai."
(I'm very hungry.)

She dropped her bag aside and sat cross-legged on the floor like she always did.

Kishori immediately got up.

"Bas, abhi deti hoon," she said softly and hurried toward the small kitchen area.

Within minutes, she returned with two steel plates and placed them on the floor.

Gauri's eyes lit up instantly.

"Puri... aur aloo dum?" she asked, almost like a child.

Kishori smiled.

"Tumhari pasand ka."

(Your favorite.)

Gauri's face softened. No five-star dinner could compete with this.

She picked up a piece of puri and dipped it into the spicy aloo dum, the familiar taste instantly comforting her restless heart.

Then she paused.

"You didn't eat?" she asked, looking at her mother's untouched plate.

Kishori shook her head gently.

"Main apne bacche ke bina kaise kha leti?"
(How could I eat without my child?)

Gauri sighed softly.

"Maa, you should have eaten. You have to take your medicines on time, right?"

There was mild scolding in her tone — but it was filled with love.

"I will take them after eating now," Kishori replied, brushing it off lightly. "First you eat properly."

For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence.

No chandeliers.

No business deals.

No ego.

Just the soft clinking of steel plates and the quiet warmth of home.

But while Kishori spoke about small neighborhood things, Gauri's mind wandered back to the meeting room.

To his voice.

To his eyes.

To that ridiculous condition.

Personal cook.

She shook her head slightly, pushing the thought away.

She didn't know yet...

That this matter was far from over.

And neither did Hriday.

The party was still in full swing when Hriday stepped out of the banquet hall.

Music echoed faintly behind him. Laughter, glasses clinking, deals being sealed.

But he wasn't in the mood anymore.

His gaze landed on his sleek black car waiting near the entrance.

"Sir?" the driver straightened instantly, surprised. He had assumed Hriday would leave after midnight — like most elite businessmen did.

"Drive," Hriday said curtly as he slid into the backseat. "And drive fast."

The driver didn't question further.

The car sped into the night, leaving behind the glittering lights of celebration.

Inside the moving vehicle, Hriday leaned back, closing his eyes.

But sleep didn't come.

All he could see was a pair of stubborn eyes.

And a girl who had walked away from his condition without hesitation.

The next morning.

Hriday woke up to the sharp vibration of his phone.

He reached for it, still half-asleep — only to see his parents on a video call.

"Mom? Dad?" he answered.

On the screen, Maithili smiled instantly.

"Hriday, what happened?"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm fine."

But Shikhar narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Your eyes are saying you didn't sleep on time, son."

"I slept, Dad," Hriday replied smoothly, then tilted his head. "You tell me — why do you both look like you're sitting miles apart?"

There was a visible gap between them on the couch.

Maithili hesitated.

"T-that's nothing, son. I'll talk to you later. I have to check some arrangements. We're returning to India in two days."

Shikhar stood up and walked away without another word.

Maithili's eyes followed him.

"Mom," Hriday said softly, his tone changing completely. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Hriday."

"Mom."

Only one person in the world heard that softness in Hriday Singh Shekhawat's voice.

His mother.

She sighed.

"We fought."

Hriday's brows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

"You fought with Dad?"

The fact that Maithili was admitting fault meant she truly felt guilty.

"Yes... and this time it was my mistake. I mentioned Sanjana in front of him... knowing how much he dislikes her."

"For what, Mom?" Hriday asked carefully.

He had grown up watching his parents. He knew how deeply his father loved his mother. While his friends talked about divorces and broken homes, he admired the unbreakable bond his parents shared.

"For... nothing," she quickly changed the topic. "Tell me about last night. How was your date with Disha? Did you like her?"

"Mom," Hriday exhaled lightly, "that was not a date. It was a business party organized by our company. I met her like a normal person. We talked. That's it."

"Hridyaaay..." she stretched his name. "You have to try."

"For what?"

"For getting a wife," Maithili replied seriously. "A suitable wife for you. For our family."

She paused.

"And more than that... I need a daughter for myself."

Hriday blinked.

"You know how bored I get between Papaji's stories, Shikhar's business talks, and your endless meetings," she continued dramatically. "I don't know why Mummyji left us so early. I miss her so much."

Hriday's expression softened.

"I miss Dadi too."

"See?" Maithili said gently. "I want someone sweet in this house again."

"Mom, you have your best friend. You have Kamla aunty to gossip with. Why do you need a daughter-in-law to gossip?"

"I said daughter, Hriday Singh Shekhawat," she corrected immediately. "Not daughter-in-law. I wanted a beautiful, sweet daughter. But God gifted me you — my workaholic but very handsome son."

Hriday stared at her.

"Is that why you used to make me wear frocks and tie my hair when I was little?"

He had always wanted to ask that.

Maithili burst into laughter.

"Yes, my dear son... I mean, my pretty daughter."

Hriday closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Mom..."

She laughed harder at his expression.

For a moment, the tension between his parents disappeared.

For a moment, he was just a son.

But once the call ended, the calm faded.

Because somewhere in Chandigarh...

A stubborn girl had refused him.

And Hriday Singh Shekhawat was not used to hearing no.