29. Breakfast

Here is an early update, as you all made me very happy with your votes♡

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“I know you can’t cook, buttercu—” Aaryansh stopped mid-sentence, catching himself.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he corrected, “I know you can’t cook, Ammu.” His smile lingered, warm and teasing.

Amrita’s heart fluttered inexplicably as his words sank in. Hearing her nickname from him stirred something unfamiliar within her.

Her gaze lingered on his radiant smile, and for the first time, it felt almost impossible to look away.

Although she caught his slip over words, she didn't ask him anything.

"I.. yes.. I don't know how to cook.." Amrita agreed, her normal stoic expression now fully softened.

"Then let your man take care of it" Aaryansh whispered to Amrita and she looked at him with wide eyes

Did he just say that he was 'my man'? She thought

Aaryansh deliberately brushed his hands over Amrita’s as he reached out to take his apron.

The faint, accidental touch sent a shiver down her spine. He tied the apron around his waist in one fluid motion, his movements unhurried yet confident.

Amrita inhaled deeply, her eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She watched as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing veiny, muscular forearms.

His focus on cooking was mesmerizing—every precise movement of his hands adding to the strange fluttering in her chest.

Her gaze lingered a little too long. She noticed the way his lips curled slightly as he diced vegetables, the faint hum of a tune escaping him.

Aaryansh wasn’t just cooking; he seemed to be in his element, exuding a calm energy that somehow left her unsettled.

“You’re staring,” Ananya’s voice broke the spell, a teasing whisper that cut through the silence.

Amrita blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “No, I’m not,” she said in her usual cold tone, though the stoic edge was missing, replaced by something softer.

“Uh huh,” Ananya smirked, clearly not buying it.

While Amrita awkwardly looked away, Ananya’s attention shifted to Aditya, who was silently helping his brother.

She frowned, her curiosity piqued as she noticed how effortlessly he moved around the kitchen.

Aditya worked with quiet precision, his strong hands folding the dough with practiced ease.

For someone who exuded an air of disdain for domestic tasks, he seemed surprisingly skilled.

“So, Mr. Grumpy knows how to cook,” Ananya muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed herself off the counter and strolled over to where Aditya was working.

Sitting on the counter beside him, she grabbed an apple and bit into it loudly.

“So…? You know how to cook,” she said, her tone laced with mock surprise as she chewed.

Aditya didn’t look up. “Observant as ever,” he replied flatly, rolling out dough with deliberate care.

Ananya tilted her head, unfazed by his lack of enthusiasm. “Impressive. I didn’t think ‘Mr. Perfect’ could handle anything beyond barking orders,” she quipped, swinging her legs slightly.

Aditya’s jaw tightened, but his hands never faltered. “Unlike some people, I don’t make noise for no reason,” he shot back, his voice calm but cutting.

“Ouch,” Ananya said, feigning a wounded expression. “But if I didn’t make noise, how else would you know I was here to irritate you?”

He sighed, finally glancing at her. “And here I thought silence was golden,” he muttered, before turning back to his work.

Ananya smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, Mr. Grumpy, maybe one day you’ll thank me for keeping life interesting,” she teased, taking another bite of her apple.

Meanwhile, Amrita stood frozen in place, her eyes drifting back to Aaryansh.

She watched as he expertly flipped a paratha on the pan, the golden-brown surface puffing up perfectly. The smell of butter filled the air, making her stomach growl softly.

“Hungry?” Aaryansh asked, his voice breaking her reverie.

Amrita’s eyes widened slightly, and she quickly shook her head. “No,” she said curtly, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from his perceptiveness.

Aaryansh chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Liar,” he murmured under his breath, though loud enough for her to hear.

Amrita felt her cheeks heat up, but she kept her expression neutral. “I don’t lie,” she countered, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

“Of course, you don’t,” he replied with a smirk, plating the paratha and handing it to her. “Here, for when you’re ready to admit it.”

Amrita stared at the plate, her pride warring with her hunger. She hated how easily he seemed to read her, how effortlessly he could disarm her cold demeanor.

Ananya, noticing the silent exchange, rolled her eyes dramatically. “God, you two are worse than a slow-burn romance novel,” she muttered, hopping off the counter.

Aditya’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk at her comment, but he said nothing.

As silence settled over the kitchen again, Aaryansh leaned toward Amrita slightly, lowering his voice. “You might want to eat before someone steals it,” he said, tilting his head toward Amrita.

Amrita let out a soft sigh, finally giving in and picking up the plate. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aaryansh’s smile widened, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the stove.

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By the time breakfast was ready, the kitchen smelled of perfectly cooked parathas, eggs, and freshly brewed coffee.

The table was set, and everyone gathered around, their expressions expectant.

Amrita and Ananya sat silently as Aaryansh and Aditya served the dishes.

Amrita glanced down at the plate in front of her, trying to suppress the pang of guilt at not having contributed much.

As they all began to eat, Ishwar looked up from his plate with a small smile. “The food is excellent. Who made this?” he asked, glancing at Amrita and Ananya.

Before either of them could respond, Aaryansh spoke up. “Amrita and Ananya made it,” he said smoothly, his tone filled with amusement.

Amrita’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing at him. Ananya, too, shot him a glare. “What?” they both said in unison.

Aaryansh leaned back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. “What? It’s true,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You two were in the kitchen the whole time.”

Aditya chimed in, his voice dry. “Technically, they supervised.”

Ananya rolled her eyes, biting into her paratha. “Yeah, supervised. Right.”

The table chuckled, the tension easing as everyone enjoyed the food.

Ishwar turned to Amrita, his expression softening. “You’re adjusting well, Amrita. That’s good to see,” he said warmly.

Amrita nodded slightly, her tone respectful yet distant. “Thank you, Ishwar Uncle,” she replied.

The faintest flicker of disappointment crossed Ishwar’s face, but he quickly covered it with a smile. Geeta, too, exchanged a brief glance with him but said nothing.

Ananya, sensing the subtle exchange, leaned toward Amrita and whispered, “Ishwar Uncle, huh?”

Amrita ignored her, taking another bite of her paratha and keeping her gaze firmly on her plate.

Aaryansh, however, noticed the way Amrita’s shoulders tensed. His playful demeanor softened as he leaned toward her slightly.

“The food’s good, isn’t it?” he said quietly, his voice only loud enough for her to hear.

Amrita looked up, startled, before giving a small nod. “Yes, it is,” she admitted.

He smiled, the warmth in his gaze briefly making her forget the others at the table.

"After all, it's made by my husband," Amrita teased, her voice carrying a rare playful tone.

The words hung in the air, drawing the attention of those at the table. Aaryansh froze for a moment, his hand pausing midway to his mouth.

His heart skipped a beat, then picked up a giddy rhythm as her words replayed in his mind.

My husband.

Aaryansh’s gaze flickered to her, his expression carefully neutral, but the slight upward twitch of his lips gave away his emotions. She had said it so casually, but it hit him like a storm.

She called me hers...

He struggled to focus on eating, but his thoughts made it nearly impossible.

His grip on his paratha tightened as warmth bloomed in his chest. She may have said it playfully, but it meant everything to him.

Amrita, noticing his silence, arched an eyebrow. “What? Don’t tell me you’re shy now,” she quipped, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

Aaryansh cleared his throat, trying to appear composed. “Shy? Not at all,” he replied smoothly, though the light in his eyes betrayed his calm demeanor. “I’m just savoring the moment.”

Amrita’s cheeks warmed slightly, and she looked away, pretending to focus on her plate. “You’re impossible,” she murmured under her breath.

Ananya, sitting across from them, caught the exchange “Aww, bhaiya and Amul baby are too cute!”  she whispered so that no one could hear.

Aditya glanced at her with a raised brow. “No one asked you to comment,” he said flatly.

“Oh, look who found his voice,” Ananya retorted, leaning back in her chair. “Mr. Grumpy actually speaks during meals.”

Aditya didn’t dignify her remark with a response, instead returning to his food with his usual stoic demeanor.

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Once the meal was over, everyone dispersed, leaving Amrita and Aaryansh in the dining area.

She began gathering plates to take them to the kitchen, but Aaryansh stopped her by placing a hand over hers.

“I’ll do it,” he said softly, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Amrita looked up at him, her usual stoic expression faltering for a brief second. “I can manage,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

“You’ve already done enough by supervising,” he teased, his lips curling into a small smirk.

Amrita narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at her lips. “Fine. If you insist.”

As she walked away, Aaryansh watched her go, his heart still fluttering from her earlier words.

He couldn’t help but smile again, knowing that for the first time, she had called him hers.

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LOVE IS NOT JUST WHAT WE FEEL, BUT WHAT WE DO.💙