"Auntyyyy!!!"

A sharp, overly cheerful voice echoed through the living room.

Maithili looked up from the flowers she was arranging and smiled.

"Disha! Beta, how are you?"

Disha walked in confidently, dressed perfectly as always. Polished. Composed. Slightly too sweet.

"I'm good, Aunty. How are you? And Uncle?"

"We're good, come... come sit."

Maithili guided her to the couch warmly.

Meanwhile—

Hriday walked into the living room, phone pressed to his ear, finishing an important call.

"Yes, send the file before evening. I don't want delays."

He ended the call.

Then he looked up.

And froze.

Disha.

His jaw tightened.

What is this girl doing here?

He inhaled slowly, masking his expression.

"Mom, I'm hungry. I'm going to have lunch. Do you want to come?" he asked casually, completely ignoring Disha's existence.

Disha noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"No Hriday, I'll eat later. I already had so much prasad. I'm not hungry," Maithili replied.

"Okay then, Mom."

He turned to leave.

"Wait," Maithili stopped him. "Tell someone to bring prasad for Disha. And Hriday... she has come to our house for the first time. At least say hello properly."

Hriday's shoulders stiffened for a second.

He turned slowly.

Looked at Disha.

Blank expression.

"Hello."

No smile. No warmth.

"Hello, Hriday," Disha replied, maintaining her sweetness. "How are you?"

"Fine."

One word.

Flat.

And he walked away without waiting for her response.

Disha's smile flickered slightly.

Maithili sighed softly. "Don't mind him, beta. He must be hungry."

"It's okay, Aunty," Disha said, though her eyes followed Hriday's retreating figure. "How is Uncle? And... how are things?"

"We're all good. Tell me, how is your father? And your bua?"

"They're good. Bua was telling me in the morning that her vacation is ending. She'll be back soon."

"Oh, that's good news, Disha beta," Maithili said pleasantly.

But something in Disha's tone hinted at more.

And upstairs—

Hriday ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Why is she here now?" he muttered.

He already had enough confusion in his life.

He didn't need Disha adding to it.

And from the kitchen doorway—

Gauri had unknowingly witnessed the cold exchange.

She didn't know who Disha was.

But she knew one thing.

Hriday never looked that irritated without a reason.

And suddenly—

The house didn't feel peaceful anymore.

Hriday entered the dining area, loosening the sleeves of his kurta.

He stopped.

Gauri was arranging the plates carefully, making sure everything was aligned properly.

"I'm hungry."

His voice came from right behind her.

She flinched.

The spoon in her hand almost slipped.

She turned quickly.

"O–okay sir... I will serve the food."

"Do it fast."

He pulled out his chair and sat down, leaning back impatiently.

Gauri hurried, placing the dishes in front of him.

Plain vegetables. Dal without tadka. Simple rotis.

Hriday stared at the plate.

His eyebrows slowly drew together.

"Why does this look like hospital food?"

She swallowed.

"Sir... today is puja. Madam said to make satvik food."

He poked the sabzi with his spoon.

"No spices. No color. No life."

He looked up at her.

"I can't eat this. It's tasteless."

He pushed the plate slightly and stood up.

Gauri's heart jumped.

"Sir—please don't leave food like this."

He paused.

"If you don't want this... I made kheer. You can have that."

He turned back.

Kheer?

He hadn't eaten breakfast properly. Just juice.

He sat again.

"Fine. Only kheer. Not this tasteless food."

She nodded quickly and brought the bowl.

She placed it in front of him.

For a second, he looked at the kheer.

Then at her.

She gave a small nod.

He took a spoonful.

Tasted it like a strict food critic.

"The sugar—"

Her eyes widened.

"Is it too much?"

He swallowed.

"...Yeah. It's sweet. Very sweet."

Her face fell instantly.

"But I'm hungry. I'll eat it," he added, continuing.

Then he looked at her again.

"I think you're getting distracted from your work."

She lowered her eyes.

The maid had called her while she was making it. She must've added sugar twice.

He finished the entire bowl anyway.

Placed it down.

"Okay, okay. Don't look like that. Just try to make better kheer next time."

She nodded quietly.

Then he leaned back.

"I'm warning you... if you keep feeding me this much sugar, I'll cut your salary when I become diabetic."

He said it casually.

But it hit her differently.

"I'm sorry, sir. From next time I'll be careful."

He looked at her for a second longer than necessary.

Then got up and left.

In the kitchen—

"Jiya, keep the kheer aside," Gauri said softly.

"Why?"

"It's too sweet. Sir didn't like it. Others also might not like it."

Jiya's face changed.

"Oh no... but I already told Mukesh bhaiya to serve that at the dining table. Everyone must be eating it now."

Gauri froze.

"What? Should I go and stop them?"

Jiya immediately shook her head.

"No! Don't. Shikhar sir doesn't like disturbance during meals. I heard he scolded a servant this morning when Pandit ji was late."

Gauri frowned slightly.

"I don't think Shikhar sir is bad," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe he was stressed. At this age people worry more. Sometimes stress makes people harsh."

Jiya shrugged.

"Maybe... but still. Be careful."

After some time, Jiya left to serve at the dining area.

Because Gauri's role was clear.

She was hired only to cook.

And to personally serve Hriday.

It was written clearly in the contract.

She would not serve anyone else.

Only him.

And standing alone in the kitchen, that line echoed in her mind.

Only him.

For some reason—

It didn't feel like just a job anymore.