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After dinner, everyone settled in Preeti’s home. The cozy living room buzzed with quiet conversations as the night deepened. Akshat and Vikram had retreated to the balcony, their voices a low murmur over the sound of the cool breeze. Preeti was sitting with Kavya on the couch, the two women chatting, while Vedant found himself sitting beside Amrit. His attention, however, was far from the room—they were on the door, his gaze shifting every few seconds, expecting someone.

Amrit noticed his distracted state and nudged him gently.” Ek baat kahun? Girls aren’t that easy to convince. Ek baar hum naraz ho jaayein, toh bahot time lagta hai to make things right again."

Vedant glanced at her, his brows furrowed. "But I apologised! I don't know what else to do. Why is it so complicated?"

"Apologizing is just the first step," Amrit explained, her tone gentle but firm. "We want to see actions that show us you really mean it. Words are important, but they’re not always enough."

Vedant groaned, frustrated. "You’re telling me I have to do something grand to get her forgiveness?”

Amrit shook her head "It’s not about doing something grand. It’s about making her feel like you genuinely care. We don’t stay mad for too long if we see effort."

Vedant paused for a moment, thinking. "So, do you really think I should try again? I mean... do you think she’ll even listen this time?"

Amrit raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really want her forgiveness? Or are you just doing it because you think you have to?"

Vedant’s face softened. "Of course I want her to forgive me.”

Amrit studied him for a moment, then smiled. "If you really want to make things right, ek rasta hai."

Vedant leaned in, intrigued. "What? Tell me."

She grinned mischievously. "If someone were to make a girl’s favorite food and apologize while she’s enjoying it...she might just think about forgiving him."

Vedant blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of her suggestion. "That’s it? Just food?"

Amrit laughed, shaking her head. "Not just any food. Her favourite food. Something that shows you know what she likes, that you’ve put thought into it."

Vedant sat back, considering her words. "So... if I make her favourite food and apologise, there’s a chance she’ll forgive me?"

Amrit smiled. "Maybe, but maafi sachi lagni chahiye.”

Vedant nodded slowly, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. "Okay...I think I can do that. Thank you so much."

***************************************

As the night drew to a close, the air was filled with the soft murmurs of people bidding each other goodbye. One by one, everyone started to head back to their homes, the warmth of Preeti’s house fading into the quiet night.

Akshat walked beside Krishiv toward the elevator, his phone in hand. He quickly typed a message to Amrit, his thoughts still lingering on her.

"I’m going to home. Will you be fine alone?" he typed, glancing back over his shoulder at her, just to make sure she was okay.

Amrit, who had been standing quietly by the doorway, looked down at her phone as it buzzed. She read the message and typed back, "Ji," and when she looked up, she caught Akshat’s eyes for a fleeting moment. She gave a small nod, signaling she was alright, though her eyes carried a mix of uncertainty and gratitude.

Bulbul, however, had been observing them closely, her curious gaze shifting between the two of them. Her little brows furrowed, trying to understand the quiet exchanges between the adults.

Krishiv, always the cheerful one, leaned down and smiled at Bulbul. "Chalo bye, Bulbul. Good night," he said with a grin, giving her a little wave.

Bulbul, with her usual mischievousness, flashed a toothy smile and said, "Bye bye, cheatel uncle!"

His eyes went to Kavya and he gave her a polite nod, his smile softening. "Good night, Bulbul ki mummy," he said.

Kavya shook her head with a tired smile. "Good night, sir," she replied, her voice gentle.

As Akshat sat behind the wheel of his car, his thoughts raced. The drive was supposed to take him home, but something gnawed at the back of his mind—the memory of last night. The nightmare she had, the way she clutched her pillow in fear. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"What if she gets another nightmare?" he thought, his heart pounding with concern.

Without giving it another thought, he abruptly turned the car around, the tires screeching as he made a U-turn. His mind was made up—he couldn’t leave her like that. Not tonight.

Moments later, he parked the car at the backside of the apartment complex, quietly slipping out and heading toward the back door. The key in his hand felt heavier than usual, as if his guilt and worry had transferred into the cold metal. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside silently, careful not to make a sound.

He reached out to his room. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the room, and there she was—Amrit, curled up under the thin sheet, her body shivering slightly.

He frowned. The air was too cold. No wonder she was shivering. With quick steps, he moved to the AC unit and adjusted the temperature, bringing it up to a more comfortable level. Then, he grabbed the blanket from the side of the bed and gently covered her, making sure she was warm.

As he stood there, watching her, he whispered to himself, "Nightmares toh nahi aa rahe."

But his suspicion was confirmed when he looked closer. Her face, though peaceful in sleep, was pale—too pale. Her brows were furrowed, her breathing shallow. The telltale signs of distress were all there. He cursed under his breath, knowing she was on the verge of another nightmare.

Without hesitating, he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. Her fingers, cold to the touch, instinctively curled around his. Instantly, her tense body seemed to relax, her breathing steadying. Akshat watched as the lines of stress on her face slowly disappeared, her grip on his hand growing firm, as if she had found an anchor in him.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusted his legs on the bed, kicking off his shoes, making himself comfortable beside her. As he settled in, his eyelids began to grow heavy.

It was strange. Akshat was used to sleepless nights, haunted by his own thoughts, relying on sleeping pills just to rest. Yet, last night, he had slept deeply—something that hadn’t happened in a long time. And here he was again, feeling that same wave of drowsiness, just sitting beside her.

His gaze shifted back to her face, now peaceful and soft in the glow of the nightlight. He sighed softly, his mind growing hazy.

Before he knew it, Akshat's eyes fluttered closed, his body relaxing into the bed. The world around him faded into the background as sleep overtook him, far more easily than it ever had before.

***************************************

Amrit’s eyes fluttered open as she stirred from her sleep, the weight of warmth surrounding her. She felt something beneath her and, with a soft frown, turned slightly to find Akshat’s arm draped beneath her, holding her close in an almost unconscious gesture.

A small smile formed on her lips as she watched him, his face peaceful in his sleep. He looked so different from the guarded, stoic man she had once imagined him to be. Her heart warmed as she let her eyes close again, savoring the brief serenity of their proximity, her hand instinctively tightening around his.

After some time, she stirred again, this time fully waking up. She blinked in confusion, finding the bed empty beside her.

"Was I dreaming?" she muttered to herself, sitting up slowly, her mind still a little groggy from sleep. Just as she was about to brush it off as a figment of her imagination, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the room.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Akshat, walking in with a cup of tea in his hand. He was fully dressed in his shirt and coat, looking every bit the professional, yet the sight of him holding that simple cup for her made her heart flutter again.

"Uth gayi? Your tea," he said with a gentle smile, walking over and placing the cup on the bedside table.

Amrit stared at him for a moment, her mind still catching up to the reality of the situation. "Aap... aapne kyun kiya? Chai toh mai khud bhi bana sakti thi. Mujhe utha dena chahiye tha," she said, her voice filled with a mix of guilt and surprise. She wasn't used to someone else taking care of her like this, especially not him.

Akshat shrugged lightly, a casual smile playing on his lips as he straightened up. "I prepared for myself toh bana diya. It wasn’t a big deal," he said, waving off her concerns. "Accha, I’m getting late. I have an extra online lecture to attend today."

"Maine breakfast bhi bana diya hai," he added, gesturing toward the door. "After one hour, I’ll be free. Tum ready ho jana, we’ll go buy groceries."

"But... I have to go to Preeti aunty's home today. Unhone bulaya tha na," she said, her voice tinged with concern as she looked at Akshat.

Akshat, who had been gathering his things, paused for a moment, processing her words. "Ohh, haan!" he said, scratching his head slightly. "How could I forget?" He turned towards her, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Ye batao, tumhe dosti karne ke liye puri building me mera hi parivaar mila tha?"

Amrit's eyes widened even further as she sat up straighter on the bed, panic beginning to creep into her voice. "I... I am so sorry, sir! I didn't even know they were related to you. I swear, if you want, I can deny their invitation and start maintaining distance from them!" She was flustered now, her words coming out in a rush as she imagined she might have overstepped some invisible boundary.

Akshat held up his hand, signaling her to stop. "Shh! Calm down," he said, his tone soft but firm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, meeting her eyes directly. "I'm not angry, Amrit. Just surprised, that's all." His voice was gentle, meant to reassure her, and slowly, she felt herself beginning to relax.

Seeing her calm down, Akshat continued, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "They’re actually nice people. You’ll be happy in their company." He paused, his tone turning more serious. "But, we will have to be careful. We can’t have them finding out... you know." His eyes held hers for a beat longer, the unspoken words hanging between them.

Amrit let out a sigh of relief, a small smile of gratitude gracing her lips.

Akshat waved off her worries, standing up once more and adjusting the cuff of his shirt. “ Masi ne dophar ko kaha hai na aane ko, uske pehle we will return back. Toh ready rehna. I should leave now. Take care."

Amrit watched as he turned to leave the room, his usual confident stride returning as he opened the door.  She sat there for a moment, smiling softly to herself.

***************************************

Vedant paced back and forth in his room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Nandini. Her teary eyes from earlier flashed in his memory, and guilt twisted in his chest.

Unable to bear the thought of leaving things as they were, Vedant grabbed his phone and quickly opened YouTube. “Kaise manaun usse...,” he typed, furiously scrolling through the suggestions. After a moment, he clicked on a video titled ‘Best Ways to Apologize to a Girl After Hurting Her’.

The video started, and the host’s overly enthusiastic voice filled the room. "Step one: Hug her from behind when she’s least expecting it!"

Vedant stared at the screen in disbelief. “What the hell?! Chappal se maar ke bhagayegi agar aisa kiya to!” he exclaimed, horrified. “Aur upar se molestation case kar degi! Idiot!”

Frustrated, he hit the back button and tried searching again. ‘How to say sorry to a girl in a unique way (not girlfriend)’.

As he scrolled through more videos, he shook his head. “Ye kya nibbo ki tarah search kar raha hun mai,” he grumbled, closing the laptop with a snap. “Kuch apne dimag se sochna padega. Ye bakwaas tips kaam nahi aayenge.”

Vedant sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking hard. Suddenly, a memory of a conversation popped into his mind.

"Amrit ne kaha tha jo usse psnd hai wo banane ko par kya pasnd hoga usse….Jalebi! Usse jalebi bahot pasand hai… mummy ko bataya tha usne jab hum last time mile the!"

A grin spread across his face as he got up with renewed energy. “Haan! Ye idea sahi hai! Jalebi! Mummy bhi Akshat ke ghar gayi hain, toh mai kitchen mein aram se bana sakta hun.”

With a new sense of purpose, Vedant rushed to the kitchen. He pulled out his phone again, this time searching for jalebi recipes.

“Bas! Jalebi tayyar karke Nandini ko sorry bol dunga... aur sab theek ho jayega,” he murmured to himself, rolling up his sleeves, ready to face his culinary challenge.

Vedant stood in the kitchen, his phone propped up against the spice rack as the recipe video played.

"Okay, so first step: mix the batter,” he said to himself, glancing at the screen. He grabbed a bowl, flour, and other ingredients, pouring them in with little precision. Flour puffed up into the air, dusting his shirt and hair.

“Haan, theek hai… thoda zyada ho gaya, but it’s fine,” he muttered, coughing through the cloud of flour.

He reached for the water, carefully pouring it into the bowl. The water splashed out, hitting the counter and his feet. “Arre yaar!” he yelped, grabbing a rag to mop up the mess.

The next instruction popped up on the screen: “Mix the batter until smooth.”

Vedant grabbed a whisk and started mixing with all his strength. After a few minutes, his arms were already aching. “Kya ye workout chal raha hai?” he muttered, switching hands. “Isse toh gym ka membership cancel karna padega.”

Finally satisfied with the lumpy mixture, he moved to the next step. “Now, heat the oil.”

He set a pan on the stove and turned the heat to high, dumping a generous amount of oil in. The sizzle was almost immediate, and the kitchen began filling with smoke as the oil heated too fast.

“Bhai yeh jalebi ka tel hai yaa bomb ban raha hai?” Vedant coughed, waving his hands to clear the smoke. He quickly turned down the heat, muttering to himself, “Aaj ke baad kabhi khud se cooking nahi karunga.” He said and opened the exhaust.

The video then instructed him to pour the batter into a piping bag or a plastic bottle with a hole. Vedant rummaged through the kitchen drawers, finally finding a ziplock bag.

“Yeh bhi chalega... improvisation,” he said proudly, filling the bag with the batter. He snipped off a corner with a pair of scissors, but in his excitement, he cut the hole too big. Batter gushed out onto the counter in a gooey mess.

“Great, ab yahi hona baaki tha.” he groaned, grabbing more tissues to clean up the sticky mess.

Undeterred, he finally managed to squeeze some of the batter into the oil. The shape was less ‘jalebi’ and more ‘abstract art.’ It splattered and sizzled, some pieces looking more like squiggles than spirals.

“Kya bana raha hun main… jalebi ya alien?” he muttered, watching the misshapen creations bubble in the oil. After a few attempts, he managed to create something that vaguely resembled a jalebi.

"Okay, okay! Yeh thoda thik lag raha hai!" he cheered, flipping the jalebi with a spoon. But as he lifted it out, it slipped from his grasp and fell back into the oil, splashing hot oil onto his shirt.

"Arre!" Vedant yelped, hopping back in pain. "Aaj toh jalebi ke chakkar mein meri jalebi ban jayegi.”

Finally, after what felt like hours of chaos and a kitchen disaster zone, Vedant managed to produce a small plate of golden, crispy jalebis. They weren't perfect, but they looked good enough to pass off as edible.

Panting and wiping sweat from his forehead, he grinned. “Yeh lo! Toh finally, Doctor Vedant Mathur ne jalebi bana hi li!”

He glanced around at the kitchen, which looked like a war zone with flour, sugar, and batter smeared everywhere. “Bas ab agar mummy ne yeh kitchen dekha... toh meri khud ki jalebi bana degi!”

Vedant quickly cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, wiping the counters and sweeping the flour off the floor. He glanced at the clock—no time to waste. Grabbing the box of jalebis, he dashed out the door and made his way to Nandini's apartment.

Standing outside her door, Vedant felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he rang the bell.

Inside, Nandini grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she reluctantly got out of bed. “Sunday ko toh mein aaram karne do, bhai!” She trudged to the door and opened it.

Vedant stood there with a nervous smile. “Hiii!” he greeted cheerfully.

Nandini, unimpressed, gave him a blank look and immediately tried to close the door. “Byeee!!”

Vedant quickly stopped the door with his hand, pushing it back slightly. “Arre suno to!” he protested, holding it open.

Nandini glared at him, crossing her arms. “Aur kya sunehre lafz nikalna baaki reh gaya hai apne muh se jo aa gaye hain?” she snapped, rolling her eyes.

Vedant chuckled nervously. “Nahi, nahi... wo... kuch aur kaam tha.” He fidgeted with the box in his hand, clearly uncomfortable.

“Kahiye ab kya hukum hai sarkar ka?” Nandini’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Aapke ghar na aane ka hukum to suna diya tha... ab kya iss flat se bhi nikal jaun?”

Vedant felt his patience thinning. “Tum sun nahi sakti kya? Main baat karne aaya hoon.”

Nandini sighed dramatically and turned her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “Boliye.”

Vedant, now visibly nervous, held out the box of jalebis toward her. “Tumhare liye...”

Nandini blinked in disbelief. “Kya?”

Vedant cleared his throat. “Haan, wo... I am really sorry. Mujhe aise nahi chillana chahiye tha bina poori baat sune.”

Nandini eyed the box suspiciously. “Ye jo bhi hai, mujhe dekar ehsaan mat dilana baad mein. Nahi chahiye.” With that, she turned and walked back inside, leaving the door open.

Vedant, refusing to give up, followed her inside. “Please, ek baar dekho to... maine khud banaya hai.”

Nandini, still not looking at him, shook her head. “Jo bhi hai, thank you, par mujhe nahi chahiye.”

Vedant felt the guilt grow heavier. “Nandini, I am really sorry. Tumhe pata hai na, main kaisa hoon. Gussa jaldi aata hai mujhe. Aur Mom ko lekar uss din... achanak gussa tumpe nikal gaya... par ab main guilty feel kar raha hoon. I’m sorry... main chidchida hoon, gusse wala hoon... par tum to achhi ho na... tum maaf kar do.”

Nandini finally turned to face him, her expression softening slightly. “Main hurt hui thi.”

“I know,” Vedant said softly. “Tabhi to maafi maang raha hoon.”

Nandini pursed her lips, still upset. “Bahut ehsaan hoga aapka.”

Vedant sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mujhe nahi pata aur tumhe kaise sorry bolun... ye maine poore dil se banaya hai taki main dil se maafi maang sakun.” He placed the box gently on the table. “Yeh yahan table par rakha hai. Agar tumne isse accept kiya, to mujhe lagega tumne mujhe maaf kar diya hai.”

Without waiting for a response, Vedant turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving Nandini standing there, staring at the box of jalebis.

Nandini stood in the living room, arms crossed as she watched Vedant leave, the door clicking softly behind him. She turned her gaze toward the box of jalebis he had left on the table, curiosity gnawing at her. With a reluctant sigh, she walked over to the table and picked up the box.

Gently lifting the lid, she was greeted by the sight of golden, spiraled jalebis. The sweet aroma wafted up, making her mouth water.

“Wow!! Jalebi!! Par unhe kaise pata ki I like these?” she murmured to herself, her fingers hesitating over the delicately arranged jalebis. She remembered telling his mother once about her love for sweets, especially jalebis, but she hadn’t thought Vedant would remember.

Unable to resist, she picked up a piece and took a bite. The sugary syrup flooded her taste buds, and her face scrunched up slightly as the intense sweetness hit her.

“Kitni meethi hai,” she mumbled, making a face as the syrup dripped from the corner of her mouth. But there was something endearing about the jalebi—it wasn’t perfect, slightly uneven and thicker than usual, yet she could tell it had been made with effort.

Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. “Ye unhone khud banaya... mere liye!” The thought hit her, and her heart softened a little. She imagined Vedant, usually so careless and impatient, fumbling around the kitchen, trying to make something he knew she loved. It wasn’t just any jalebi; it was a symbol of his apology, his effort to make things right.

She took another bite, this time more thoughtfully, letting the sweetness melt on her tongue.  A small smile tugged at her lips, despite herself.

“He can be so infuriating... but he really did try,” she thought, nibbling on another jalebi. With each bite, her anger seemed to melt away, replaced by a warmth she hadn’t expected. He may have been stubborn and quick to anger, but he had a heart, and this was proof of that.

As she finished the jalebi, she licked her fingers, her mind still on Vedant. "Kitne ajeeb hai yeh... Kawdi baatein suna kar naraz kar do, phir aise meethi jalebi bana ke sorry keh do," she muttered to herself with a chuckle, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

Still holding the box, she sat down on the couch, her mood lightened.

In the evening, Nandini stood outside Preeti's apartment, her mischievous grin already hinting at the playful drama she was about to unfold. “Preetu Darling!” Nandini called out sweetly, her voice carrying through the quiet hallway.

Preeti, hearing her, rushed to the door with a wide smile. “Nandu baby, come na!” she said, opening the door wide to let Nandini in.

Nandini walked inside, casually glancing around the apartment. Meanwhile, Vedant, who had been lounging in his room, heard Nandini’s voice and immediately sprang up, rushing into the living room. As soon as he saw her standing there, chatting with his mom, he let out a sigh of relief. “Finally, she’s forgiven me,” he thought to himself, a weight lifting off his chest.

“Baby, ye box mein kya hai?” Preeti asked, her curiosity piqued as she saw Nandini holding a familiar box.

Nandini flashed a bright smile. “Wo... aapke ghar se lekar gayi thi ek baar jab aapne halwa banaya tha, uss time dena hi bhool gayi thi.”

Preeti nodded in understanding. “Ohhh, theek hai! Isme kuch rakha hai kya?” She opened the box, her eyes lighting up as she saw the jalebis inside. “Wow baby, tumne banai?”

Nandini smiled coyly. “Haan, aap taste kar ke bataiye na, kaisi bani hai.” Her gaze shifted to Vedant, who was now standing awkwardly in the doorway, a puzzled expression plastered across his face. He was watching her intently, trying to understand what she was up to.

Vedant’s mind raced. “Yeh Nandini meri jalebi ko apna bata kar Mummy ko kyun de rahi hai?!” he thought, completely bewildered by her bold move.

Preeti picked up a jalebi, admiring the slightly uneven spirals, and took a small bite. She chewed for a moment, her expression shifting as she tasted the overwhelming sweetness.

“Baby, ye bahut jyada meethi hai...” Preeti said with a slight frown. “Tum toh itna perfect jalebi banati ho... phir aaj ye kaise?”

Nandini glanced sideways at Vedant, her grin widening. “Haan na, meethi thodi jyada ho gayi hai,” she agreed, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she spoke. She was clearly enjoying herself, watching Vedant squirm under the pressure.

Vedant clenched his jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He wanted to speak up, to tell his mother that it was his hard work, not Nandini’s. But before he could, Nandini spoke again, her voice dripping with mock sincerity.

“Actually, aunty, thoda jaldi-jaldi banayi thi na, toh shayad isliye...” Nandini said, throwing a casual glance at Vedant, who now looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

Preeti, unaware of the silent war between the two, gave an encouraging smile. “Koi baat nahi, baby. Tumhari jalebi hamesha acchi hoti hai.”” She chuckled, oblivious to the playful tension brewing in the room.

As the playful banter continued, Vedant shook his head, a frown forming on his brows ,“Itni bhi kharab nahi hai,” he said, trying to maintain his dignity despite the lighthearted teasing.

Nandini shot him a playful glance. “Tumhe kaise pata, baby? Tumne khayi hai kya?” Preeti asked, surprised by Vedant's sudden defense of her jalebi-making skills.

Nandini chimed in, “Bol to aise rahe jaise khud hi banai ho.” She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Vedant's discomfort.

Vedant shrugged, trying to keep his cool. “Dekh kar hi pata chal raha ki thik-thik bani hai.” His tone was earnest, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his amusement.

“Kya baat hai, aaj Nandini ki tareef kar rahe ho?” Preeti teased, noticing the playful back-and-forth.

Nandini bit her lip to suppress her laughter as she looked at Vedant, who was still grappling with his disbelief. She picked up another jalebi, broke off a small piece, and popped it into her mouth, savoring it with exaggerated delight. “Mmmm,” she hummed, the sound echoing in the kitchen. “Vedant... aap bhi try kariye na,” she urged, leaning closer, the challenge evident in her eyes.

“Of course,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he reached for a piece of jalebi.

The moment the sweet treat touched his tongue, his facial expressions shifted dramatically. His eyes widened, and he almost grimaced as the overwhelming sweetness hit him. “Kya hua, aap aisi shakl kyun bana rahe hain?” Nandini smirked, clearly enjoying his reaction.

“Bahot meethi hai, sach mein,” Vedant managed to say, shaking his head in disbelief.

Nandini crossed her arms, a teasing grin plastered on her face. “Maine to pehle hi kaha tha.”

“Tumne kha kaise liya isse?” he asked, genuinely curious as he took another cautious bite, still battling the sweetness.

“Dil se bani hui cheejon mein achai ya burai nahi hoti; usme bas dil se ki hui mehnat hoti hai. Aur ye to bahot shiddat se bani hai. Isme kaise koi burai nikaal sakta hai?” Nandini said, her eyes sparkling with sincerity as she met his gaze. The connection between them felt electric for a brief moment, their eyes locked for a few seconds.

“Sach kaha, Nandu baby,” Preeti interjected, breaking the spell as she took the box from Nandini’s hands and peered inside, inspecting the remaining jalebis.

“Acha, ab chalti hun main. Phir aaungi, abhi office ka kaam hai thoda,” Nandini said, glancing at Vedant one last time, her voice playful yet slightly more serious.

Preeti nodded, waving her off as she moved towards the kitchen to put the box away. “Theek hai, baby.”

Nandini turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back at Vedant. A soft, radiant smile lit up her face, making his heart skip a beat. Vedant, leaning casually against the wall, felt a warmth spread through him as he returned her smile, the earlier tension melting away like ice under the sun.

“Thank you for accepting my apology,” he said, his voice low and sincere, the weight of his remorse evident in his gaze.

“Thanks for the jalebi,” Nandini replied, her tone genuine, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of playfulness and warmth. There was an unspoken connection in that moment, a flicker of something deeper passing between them.

As she slipped out of the apartment, the door clicked shut behind her, echoing softly in the stillness. Vedant leaned back against the wall, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. It felt as if a heavy cloud had lifted, leaving him feeling lighter and more hopeful than before.

He replayed her smile in his mind, the way her laughter danced in the air, and he realised that perhaps, just perhaps, he had taken a significant step forward in their friendship—a moment that hinted at the possibility of something more.

***************************************

After few hours, Akshat stood outside the supermarket, scanning the area while impatiently tapping his foot. The phone pressed to his ear rang a couple of times before Amrit finally picked up.

"Amrit, where are you? Maine kaha tha na supermarket ke paas hi rehne ko?" His tone held a hint of frustration, as he expected her to be waiting nearby.

"Haan sir, I’m right here. Main sabzi le rahi hoon. Supermarket ke paas hi hoon. Left side mein dekhiye," she replied calmly.

He quickly glanced to his left, and there she was, standing at a street vendor’s cart, checking fruits. Sighing in mild annoyance, Akshat disconnected the call and walked toward her, his strides quick and determined.

As he reached her, he looked at the cart filled with fruits and vegetables and couldn’t help but voice his concern. "Why are you buying these from here? Maine supermarket se lene ko kaha tha, na?"

Amrit looked up at him, unfazed by his tone. "Arre, unme toh itna paisa le rahe the. Itne mein toh main pura stall khareed lun," she replied casually, inspecting an apple in her hand.

Akshat sighed, his voice dropping as he spoke. "Amrit, these aren't healthy. Pata nahi kab ke rakhe honge. You don’t know how long they’ve been sitting here."

Amrit, still focused on the fruit, waved off his concern lightly. "Hum toh hamesha road ke stalls se kharidte hain. Kabhi koi problem nahi hui. Abhi tak beemar nahi pade," she said with a small smile, confident in her decision.

However, her confidence wavered as she noticed the serious expression on Akshat’s face. His frown deepened as he looked between her and the vendor. He wasn’t angry, but there was a clear tension that made her pause.

She began to realize something. “Tu bhi na, Amrit,” she mentally chided herself. He must be feeling uncomfortable or even embarrassed, she thought. Akshat wasn’t the type to buy groceries from street vendors; he probably never had to deal with these situations. Maybe she was making him feel out of place.

Not wanting to upset him further, Amrit turned to the vendor and spoke quickly, "Bhaiya, yeh sab humein nahi chahiye. Chaliye, supermarket se hi le lete hain." She stepped away from the cart, glancing back at Akshat to gauge his reaction.

Akshat blinked in confusion, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand her sudden change of heart. "Kya hua ab? Why did you stop? You seemed fine with buying from here a minute ago."

Amrit exhaled softly, turning to face him fully. "I just thought... I mean... You must be uncomfortable with all this, right? You're not used to buying fruits and vegetables from the roadside stalls. I realized I might have made you feel embarrassed," she explained, feeling a little guilty for not thinking of his situation earlier.

Akshat glanced over at the vendor, his expression firm and decisive. “"Amrit, it’s not about feeling embarrassed. It's about health. That's it. I don't care where it's bought from, just that it's fresh! Buy from here only,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Amrit, who had been cautiously watching his reaction, lit up with a gentle smile. Her worry faded slightly as she turned to the vendor. “Bhaiya, do kilo oranges aur apples pack kar dijiye,” she said, her voice soft but with a sense of satisfaction.

The vendor nodded, beginning to pack the fruits. Just then, Akshat glanced over at the apples again. “Pack some apples for me too,” he added casually, his hands in his pockets.

Amrit, not expecting this, widened her eyes in shock. “Aap kyun?” she asked, clearly astonished by his sudden interest in the street vendor’s fruits.

“Haan, I’m taking these with me,” Akshat replied with a hint of amusement, looking at her sideways. “You guaranteed they’re healthy, right?”

Amrit blinked rapidly, processing what he had just said. “You’re taking these to your home? St. Singhania Mansion?” she asked, her voice growing more incredulous as she tried to imagine him walking into his lavish home with street-bought fruits.

Akshat shrugged nonchalantly. “Our home,” he said, with emphasis, “And yes, I will.”

The phrase "our home" sent a wave of warmth through Amrit, making her momentarily freeze. Her heart fluttered, her thoughts racing.

“Arre, but aapke ghar mein ye sab?” she asked, now more worried than before. “Wahan toh sab kuch supermarket se aata hoga, organic aur imported. Your mummy will scold you. Bhaiya, rehne do,” she said hurriedly, stopping the vendor from packing further.

Akshat’s brows furrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm. He turned to her with a gentle but firm look. “Wo mai dekh lunga,” he said, brushing off her concerns without a second thought.

Amrit’s heart raced again at how easily he dismissed her worries. She couldn’t understand why he would want to take street-bought fruits to such a posh place. “But—” she started to protest, but Akshat cut her off.

“Kuch ‘but’ nahi,” he said, his voice light but insistent, as he looked at the vendor. “Bhaiya, don’t listen to her. Pack karo,” he commanded.

Amrit stood there, slightly stunned. “Arrey, par!” she tried again, her voice tinged with urgency.

Akshat shook his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Kuch par nahi!” he said, his tone final.

Frustrated yet amused by his stubbornness, she muttered, “Akshat sir!”

He turned to her, smirking. “Ji, Amrit ma’am?” he replied, mimicking her tone with a playful glint in his eyes.

She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head in disbelief. This man, who lived in a world of luxury, was standing here buying fruits from a street vendor without a care in the world. She couldn’t help but be amused and touched by his actions, even if they left her slightly confused.

As the vendor finished packing, she couldn't help but glance at Akshat again, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

After buying the fruits, Akshat paid the vendor and turned to Amrit. “Ho gaya?” he asked, his tone casual.

Amrit shook her head, signaling that she wasn’t done yet, and started walking towards the vegetable stalls. As she was distracted, her eyes scanning the various vendors, she didn't notice a car speeding toward her from the side.

In an instant, Akshat’s reflexes kicked in. His heart raced as he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, out of harm’s way. The sudden action startled her, and she found herself pressed against his chest, his arms protectively around her.

“Dekh ke nahi chal sakti?” he said, his voice sharp with concern, though his tone softened as their eyes met.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Their proximity was undeniable, and Amrit could feel his heart beating steadily under her hands. She looked up at him, her breath catching as their gazes locked. Akshat, realizing just how close they were, quickly averted his eyes, releasing her almost as fast as he had pulled her in.

He took a step back, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but to her. “Careful next time,” he muttered, still avoiding her gaze.

Amrit stood there for a second, slightly flustered, before nodding quietly. She turned away from him and resumed her walk towards the vegetable stall, her heart still racing from the near-accident and the unexpected closeness.

She stopped at one of the stalls and began checking the potatoes, trying to distract herself from the lingering feeling of Akshat’s arms around her. “Bhaiya, aloo kitne ke hain?” she asked, her voice more composed as she inspected the vegetables.

“50 rupees per kilo, madam,” the vendor replied.

Amrit’s eyes widened in disbelief. “50 rupees? Kya bhaiya! Pagal samjha hai kya! 35 ke dene hain toh do!” she declared firmly, crossing her arms. Akshat, standing beside her, frowned slightly, watching the scene unfold with a curious expression.

“Madam, nahi ho payega... ye itne ke hi aa rahe hain,” the vendor replied, trying to reason with her.

“Dekhiye, don’t try to fool me, okay? Mai har hafte aati hun!” Amrit shot back, her tone filled with confidence as she continued to inspect the vegetables.

The vendor, looking a bit flustered, said, “Par itna kam kaise kar doon, madam? 50 ke hi aate hain.”

Amrit narrowed her eyes, not backing down. “Maine aaj hi newspaper me dekha! Utne me dena ho toh dijiye.” Her words were filled with the stubborn determination of someone who knew how to bargain.

Akshat, observing her with a mix of amusement and surprise, finally spoke up. “Amrit, what are you doing? Itna kam price toh hai,” he said in a low voice, genuinely concerned that she might be pushing too hard.

Amrit turned toward him, her hand gesturing for him to be quiet. “Shh! Aapko kuch pata nahi hai,” she whispered sharply, giving him a glance that shut down his protest immediately.

The vendor, sensing an opportunity to resolve the situation, looked toward Akshat for support. “Sir, aap hi samjhaiye na apni patni ko,” he pleaded, hoping Akshat would convince her to accept the price.

Akshat was about to say something, but Amrit jumped in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Arre waah! Mere pati aapki side kyun lenge?” she said.

For a moment, Akshat just stood there, looking at her. The word "pati" echoed in his mind, and something stirred in his chest. The way she said it, so naturally, sent a strange but pleasant flutter through him.

The vendor’s patience was wearing thin. “Madam, aap kyun bina wajah behes kar rahi hain? Sahi price hi bata raha hun,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

Amrit, unfazed, retorted, “Kya sahi price? Sahi sahi lagayenge ya mai jaun?” Her challenge was clear, and she stood her ground, arms crossed defiantly.

Akshat, observing the exchange, decided to intervene. “Ok, stop! I will check the correct price from the internet,” he said, pulling out his phone.

Amrit’s eyes widened in mock horror as she quickly grabbed his hand. “A..aap Google kyun kar rahe hain? Kya din dekhna par raha hai! You trust Google more than me?” she exclaimed dramatically, though the exaggeration was lost on the vendor.

Akshat’s eyes widened, realizing he might have unintentionally upset her. “No no no! It’s nothing like that,” he said, his voice rising in a panic as he tried to reassure her.

“Rehne dijiye, I understand!” Amrit said with a resigned sigh, her tone softening. She released his hand, taking a step back.

Akshat, now feeling even more flustered, said, “Accha ok, I won’t search.” His voice was a mix of relief and confusion.

Amrit’s face brightened with a smile as she turned back to the vendor. “Accha, 40 me done kariye!” she said cheerfully, her earlier frustration replaced by satisfaction.

The vendor, worn out by the back-and-forth, sighed and nodded. “Thik hai,” he said, conceding to her terms as he packed the potatoes.

After they had picked up some groceries from the supermarket and even bought a new phone for her.

"Aap kya car mere purane ghar ke paas rokenge please? I have to take my books and other belongings from there," she asked softly, looking at him with a hopeful expression.

Akshat glanced at her, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and after a beat, he nodded

As he parked the car near the old house, Amrit’s heart was heavy with nostalgia.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, the air felt thick with the weight of the past. She walked through the rooms of her old home, every corner seemed to echo with memories of her mother. The house was quiet, but within its walls, the past was alive, and it was hauntingly vivid.

In the living room, the once bright and lively space felt like a sepia-toned photograph. She could almost hear the familiar, loving scolding from her mother: "Amrit, kya hai ye sab? Sare kapde har jagah phailaye hue hain," she would say, her voice a blend of irritation and affection. Amrit could see her mother, a picture of grace and strength, bustling around.

Moving to the kitchen, Amrit’s heart ached with every step. The kitchen counter, still bearing the marks of countless meals cooked with love, seemed to whisper her mother’s words. “Tu kitchen me kyun aa jati hai baar baar! Mana kiya hai na,” her mother’s voice echoed, as if urging her to remember the lessons learned here.

Amrit hesitated before her mother’s bedroom door, her heart pounding. She pushed the door open slowly, as if afraid of what she might find. The room was untouched, a silent testament to the past. The bed, neatly made, seemed to hold the last traces of her mother’s presence.

As Amrit sank to the floor, she could no longer hold back her tears. The weight of the memories, the echoes of her mother’s voice from every corner of the house, pressed down on her. Her body shook with the intensity of her sobs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

She fell to her knees, her cries growing louder as she clutched at her mother’s belongings. Her sobs were raw, each one a painful release of the grief she had carried for so long. She sobbed uncontrollably, her breaths coming in short, desperate bursts. The pain of her loss was overwhelming, and she couldn’t breathe through the intensity of her emotions.

Akshat paced outside the old house, glancing at his watch repeatedly. Amrit had been inside for an unusually long time, and his concern was growing. Unable to wait any longer, he finally decided to check on her. As he approached the entrance, he heard muffled sounds, and his heart sank when he recognized the sobs coming from inside.

Without hesitation, he pushed the door open and walked quickly through the house. The soft, heart-wrenching cries led him to the bedroom. He stopped at the threshold, his heart pounding. The room was dimly lit, but he could see Amrit huddled on the floor, her body shaking with each sob.

“Amrit!” He whispered,as he stood there for a moment, paralyzed by the sight of her anguish. He was never good at dealing with emotional situations and felt unsure about how to approach her. He had always struggled with comforting people, especially when their emotions seemed so overwhelming. His mind raced as he tried to recall the right words or actions to help.

He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and slowly moved towards her. As he neared, he saw her face buried in her hands, her body trembling violently. He knelt beside her and hesitated for a moment, his own anxiety bubbling up as he tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he reached out and gently placed a hand on her head, his touch tentative but filled with concern.

Amrit looked up, her tear-streaked face a portrait of anguish. Her eyes, clouded with pain, met his. She mumbled incoherently, her words a jumble of despair. “I-I can’t… I miss her so much… why did she have to go?” Her voice cracked with the weight of her grief.

Akshat's heart broke at the sight of her pain. Before he could react, she suddenly threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The abruptness of the hug caught Akshat off guard, and he stiffened, his body tensing as he struggled to process the unexpected contact. His hands trembled as he tried to keep calm. He had never been comfortable with physical touch, and this was no exception. However, the urgency of the situation and the need to comfort her pushed him to act.

He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to stay composed. He knew this was not the time for him to panic. With a mixture of determination and trembling hands, he gently patted her head, trying to offer solace. Despite his discomfort, he managed to wrap his arms around her in return, his embrace awkward but earnest.

Amrit clung to him, her body shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I-I feel so alone… so lost…” Her words were barely intelligible through her cries. “Everything… every corner of this place… it’s all her. I can’t escape it. I thought I was ready, but I’m not. I need her. I need her so much…”

Akshat’s heart ached for her. Despite his own fear and discomfort, he wrapped his arms around her, trying to provide the comfort she needed. His embrace was awkward but sincere. He took deep breaths, trying to steady himself, and his hesitation gradually gave way to a determination to be there for her. His own unease seemed to dissolve in the face of her need. He hugged her tightly, his grip firm but gentle.

Akshat continued to hold Amrit tightly, sensing her still trembling from her earlier outburst. He knew that comforting her required more than just physical closeness; he needed to offer her a story that could speak to her heart and ease her pain.

“Amrit,” he began softly, his voice steady and calming, “There was once a girl who lived in a beautiful valley surrounded by lush forests and gentle rivers. She had a close-knit family and a special bond with her younger brother. They would often explore the woods together, collecting herbs and wildflowers, their laughter echoing through the trees.”

As Akshat spoke, he gently stroked her hair, his voice soothing. “One day, a great storm rolled into the valley. The winds howled and the rain poured down in torrents. She and her brother were caught outside, and they struggled to find shelter. The storm raged for hours, and they finally found refuge in a small cave nestled between the rocks.”

“Inside the cave,” Akshat continued, “they huddled together, their clothes soaked and their spirits low. But as they sat there, the girl noticed something extraordinary. Despite the storm outside, the cave was warm and dry, and a faint, soft light glowed from within. It was a cluster of luminous fireflies that had taken shelter there too. Their gentle light illuminated the cave, casting a warm, comforting glow.”

Amrit’s breathing began to calm as she listened, her eyes closing slightly as if picturing the scene.

“She watched the fireflies, and the fear began to fade. They realised that even though they were surrounded by the storm’s fury, the light within the cave was a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is always a glimmer of hope and comfort.”

“After the storm passed,” Akshat said, his voice gentle, “They both emerged from the cave, and the valley was transformed. The storm had left its mark, but the valley was also renewed, the trees glistening with raindrops and the air fresh and clean. They knew that the storm had tested them, but they had also discovered that even in the worst of times, there is light and renewal to be found.”

Akshat paused, his hand still moving gently through Amrit’s hair. “Life can be like that storm, Amrit. It can be overwhelming and frightening, but there’s always a place of warmth and light within us, just like that cave. Your mother’s love is that light. It might feel like a storm right now, but remember, it will pass, and you will find comfort and renewal again.”

Amrit looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and hope. “I feel like I’m in the storm right now,” she whispered.

“I know it feels that way,” Akshat said, his voice tender. “But just like that girl found comfort in the fireflies, you have your own light within you. Your mother’s love is part of that light, and so are the people who care about you.”

As the minutes passed, the heavy sobs that had once wracked Amrit’s body slowly subsided. She lay in Akshat’s arms, her breathing still uneven but more controlled now. The warmth of his embrace, combined with the story he shared, had soothed some of the sharp edges of her grief.

But then, a soft tension crept into her awareness. The realization of their closeness hit her suddenly. She was leaning into his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, and his arms were still wrapped protectively around her. Her heart fluttered, but for a different reason now—a mixture of surprise and awkwardness. Her gaze shifted slightly, noticing how firm his grip had been, how gentle his hand on her head was, and how unfamiliar the warmth between them felt.

She shifted, her body stiffening as she slowly pulled back, her eyes rising to meet his. Akshat noticed her subtle movement, feeling the change in the air between them. He released her, his hands lingering a moment longer, as if hesitant to let go of her completely. Her tear-streaked face met his concerned gaze, and for a moment, neither spoke.

Akshat, sensing her discomfort, cleared his throat softly, his eyes lowering to the ground before he reached out. His fingers gently wiped away the remnants of her tears, brushing across her cheeks with surprising tenderness. He cupped her face lightly, his thumbs tracing over her skin as if ensuring all the traces of her sadness were gone.

"Want to cry more?" he asked softly, his voice full of gentle understanding. There was no judgement in his tone, just a quiet question, as if letting her know it was okay if she still needed more time.

Amrit shook her head, her expression sheepish. "Nahi..." she whispered, her voice still hoarse from the crying, "Bas ho gaya..."

Akshat smiled, a small but comforting smile that reached his eyes. "Chalein?" he asked, his voice now lighter, as if trying to ease the awkwardness that had settled between them.

Amrit nodded, her body still feeling the heaviness of her grief but relieved that the storm inside her had calmed. She glanced at him again, and for a fleeting moment, her heart skipped. She had never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so caring. It felt strange but in a way, comforting too.

Akshat rose to his feet, then extended his hand toward her. She hesitated for a second before placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her gently to her feet. Once she stood, he didn’t let go immediately, instead holding her hand for a moment longer than necessary. There was something steadying in his grip, something that made her feel safe.

Akshat began gathering some of her belongings, the ones she had come for—the books, the small keepsakes from her past life. Without a word, he carried them toward the door. Amrit watched him, her heart still fragile but beating more steadily now.

Before they left, she glanced one last time at her mother’s room, her eyes softening. The memories were still there, but they didn’t feel as suffocating now. There was a certain peace in knowing she wasn’t facing them alone.

Akshat waited by the door, watching her silently, not rushing her but letting her take all the time she needed. When she finally turned toward him, ready to leave, he nodded and smiled gently again.

Together, they walked out of the house. Akshat held her belongings in one hand and reached out with his free hand to gently guide her down the steps.

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