I stepped out of the wardrobe room, dressed in my night suit, and jumped onto the bed. "Did you have dinner?" I asked casually.

"Hmm," Kritika hummed, adjusting the AC temperature.

I hesitated before saying, "Mujhe lagta hai ab mujhe move on kar lena chahiye." My smile faltered as thoughts of that girl clouded my mind.

[ I think I should have move on now ]

"Kyun?" she asked, pulling the blanket over us.

[ Why? ]

"You know, there was this girl there. They were talking, and when I asked him—"

"Wait, what the hell?!, Did you guys met? Di, did you confess? What did he say? And how—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" I pressed my palm over her mouth, shutting down her excitement. She was too eager.

"Okay, let me tell you from the start." I pulled back my hand. "Quick!" she urged impatiently.

"When he arrived, he walked past me—just a few steps away, Kritika. Mahadev ki kasam! He looks even more handsome up close. Those hunter eyes, that sharp gaze… He was talking on the phone as he walked upstairs. I sat there, waiting for him, but the meeting ended earlier than I expected. I panicked and ran outside, hiding behind a tree. Ugh, it was so embarrassing! I don’t know how I survived."

I dropped onto my knees, burying my face in my pillow.

"What, did they catch you?" Kritika guessed.

I groaned. "I forgot to turn off my flashlight. He was talking to that girl, and while he didn’t notice, his stupid bodyguard did. I tried to run, but they grabbed me and dragged me to him."

"Wow," she breathed, her face flushed with excitement. She clapped and patted my back, urging me to continue.

"Wow?" I frowned. "Kritika, you can’t even imagine how humiliating that was! I had to lie and say I was conducting a survey, but guess what? He recognized me. I mean, dude! How the hell did he know about me?"

"He lives in the same world, and you belong to a royal family," she rolled her eyes and smacked my head.

"Oh… Maybe." I frowned before a memory struck me. A smile tugged at my lips. My cheeks burned as the scene replayed in my mind.

Kritika was staring, waiting for me to speak, but words refused to leave my mouth.

"He… he held me," I murmured, almost to myself. "His arms around me… we were so close."

Kritika gasped. "WHAT?!"

My legs kicked the air as I giggled uncontrollably.

"You know what, Kritika—" I started, but another memory hit me, wiping the smile off my face. My gaze hardened, fixed on the wall ahead.

"You know what? I hate him. I don’t love him anymore." My voice was sharp. "He made fun of my height! And he—he read my diary on purpose just to provoke me! He was too tall. I climbed onto his car to snatch it back, but he pulled me too hard—I fell to the ground, thank God he was underneath me." I clasped my hands, looking at the ceiling. "Mahadev, apko dhanyawad!"

"Wait… WHAT?! Are you serious?" Kritika shook my shoulders, barely holding back her scream.

"Yeah, but guess what? I still hate him. When I told him I had to leave, he forced me to sit there for half an hour!" My jaw clenched.

"Oho, maybe he wanted to spend more time with you," she teased, covering her mouth.

"No! He wanted to punish me. He threatened to call the police—I had no choice." My tone dropped.

"And when you asked about that girl? What did he say?" she probed.

"He said she was 'someone special,'" I mocked his tone, rolling my eyes. "Maybe he was lying. Have you ever seen her with him before?" She inquired.

I shook my head. "No, she was with his client. They even exchanged numbers." My fingers clenched the blanket.

"What if he did that on purpose, just to tease you? Did he behave differently than you expected?"

I froze. Flashbacks flooded my mind.

"He… laughed." My voice softened. "That's rare. He smiled. He wasted his precious time just sitting in his car for half an hour. He stared into my eyes, and while leaving, he made a last eye contact."

Kritika’s eyes sparkled. "Di, believe me or not—he was lying."

I hesitated before looking at her, "He didn’t call the police. He had a chance, but he didn’t. In my mind, I always thought that if he caught me, he’d file a case, tie me to a chair, torture me like he does others, or point a gun at me. But all he did was laugh. He smirked, and his gaze… it met my soul." I exhaled deeply. "I have to move on someday, but this… this is making it impossible."

"Or maybe," Kritika smirked, "he fell for you too."

I scoffed. "That girl was too beautiful. Why would he choose me when he has thousands of better options—more successful, more beautiful, taller—"

Before I could finish, Kritika slapped my shoulder—hard.

"Listen to me," she scolded. "Don't ever choose a partner based on whether he finds you beautiful. Be with someone who falls for you. Not your beauty. Not your height."

I stared at her, stunned.

"We find people beautiful because we love them, We don't love people because they are beautiful ," she added firmly.

I swallowed hard. "I do love myself, Kritika. My face, my body, my height, I love everything about me but—"

"Then end the sentence right there. No buts," she warned, throwing me a glare.

I sighed. "Okay, as you say."

"Good. And one more thing—"

Her phone rang, cutting her off. The moment she saw the caller ID, a grin stretched across her lips.

"Oho, Jija ji ka phone hai kya?" I teased, wiggling my brows.

"Hmm, Mr. Busy." She rolled her eyes. "I won't pick up."

"Then let me talk to him." I took her phone and answered. "Hello, madam, I'm sorry," his voice came through.

"Not madam, but madam’s sister," I corrected, glancing at Kritika, who was watching me with amusement. The call was on speaker.

"Oh! Sanaya Ji! Kaise ho aap?" His tone changed instantly.

"Not good," I sighed dramatically. "And you really need to teach your Shilpa Aunty some manners. Because of her, my mom slapped me today, I was talking to my ex boss and his guards were there too and what aunty told your mother in law that I was with some men, what the hell"

" Ahm-ahm....You worked for Harsanas?" he mocked.

Kritika burst out laughing.

My smile vanished. "YOU told him? Kritika, I'll kill you!"

"Nahi, nahi!" he quickly clarified. "Kritika is an achhi bachi. She doesn’t share your secrets. Sali ji, I was with Aunty."

I groaned. "Mahadev, mujhe utha lo! This is so embarrassing. Just talk to your boyfriend." I shoved the phone back into her hands.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I’ll never tell anyone."



Even though I had the option to stay in a hotel for the night, all I wanted was to reach home as soon as possible.

It took hours, but we finally made it. Nihal left for his place, and I quietly stepped inside. The living room was silent—everyone was asleep.

Feeling a little hungry, I headed straight to the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. A small smile tugged at my lips when I saw dinner neatly set aside for me. My family is so thoughtful.

I didn't wake up Preeti’s mother—she had worked all day and must be exhausted. Instead, I turned on the stove and placed a pan on it, determined to warm up my food myself.

With all the passion in the world, I gave it my best shot. But in the end? The roti burned to a crisp, and I was left with only the sabzi.

Sighing, I grabbed a spoon and a bowl and made my way to my room, silently accepting my fate.

I reached my room and finished my food, my mind already occupied with thoughts of the upcoming project.

As I removed my shirt and unbuckled my belt, my steps halted just before heading to the bathroom. A sudden thought struck me—the Polaroid camera.

As far as I remembered, I had placed it on the car… and Nihal had taken it.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed his number.

"Um… Nihal, where's that camera?" I asked.

"On your car's dashboard, sir," he replied.

"Oh! Okay. Thanks."

There was a brief pause before he added, "Sadly, she took her diary back."

I narrowed my eyes and scoffed. "Did you just tease your boss?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, sir. I just couldn't hold myself back after witnessing a completely different side of you," he said, his voice steady but amused.

I exhaled sharply, unable to come up with a response. "Ahm... good night." I attempted to end the call before he could say anything else.

"Night," he replied, the hint of amusement almost audible in his tone.

After a hot shower, I slipped into a loose tee and sweatpants, settling into bed with my MacBook on my lap. I had every intention of working, but before I could even open a document, the Princess of Udaipur invaded my thoughts.

I recalled everything—her ridiculous attempt at a fake identity, her cute slang words, the way her accent clashed with her fashion. Her loud voice. Those glaring eyes.

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but it was useless. The memory of her hair serum’s scent hit me next—how I had smell that, how lost she was in her own world, completely oblivious to the moment we had shared.

Loud people aren’t always annoying. Sometimes… they’re just adorable.

"Annoying Singh Harsana," I murmured to myself.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. I kept thinking—reliving, replaying—until a sudden hiccup snapped me back to reality.

I glanced at the time and froze. Half an hour. I had spent thirty whole minutes thinking about someone I might never meet again.

Thirty minutes of my life… wasted. Or maybe not.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I already knew who it was. A small smile tugged at my lips.

“Come in, Tara.”

She pushed the door open instantly, holding a plate in her hands. I frowned in confusion.

“Bhai, you should’ve at least told me you were coming tonight! You said you'd be back in the morning,” she huffed, placing the plate on my bedside table.

Without hesitation, she reached over, shut my MacBook, and moved it aside.

“How did you know I was hungry?” I asked, watching her curiously.

She plopped down beside me, crossing her arms. “Kitchen gayi thi paani lene, wahan dekha ki aapki jali hui roti rakhi hai. Ghar mein sirf aap hi aisa kaam kar sakte ho. Isliye maine khud banai hai. Preeti ki mummy fever mein thi, isliye unko nahi uthaya. Haan, thodi ajeeb lag sakti hai roti, jaise kisi ne country ka map bana diya ho, lekin mujhe kitchen ka kaam nahi aata na. Lekin aapko bhookha kaise sone deti? Bahar se order karti, par wo bhi aapko pasand nahi,” she explained in barely two to three breath.

[ I went to the kitchen to get some water and saw your burnt roti there. Only you could do something like this in this house. So, I made one myself. Preeti's mom had a fever, so I didn’t wake her up. Yes, the roti might look a bit weird, like someone tried to draw a country’s map, but I don’t know much about cooking. Still, how could let you sleep hungry? I could have ordered from outside, but you wouldn’t have liked that either. ]

I just stared at her, my chest warming with affection. I adore this girl.

“Come here, give me a hug,” I said, setting the plate aside and extending my arms.

Without hesitation, she buried her face in my chest. Her warmth was comforting, familiar.

“Aap mere liye kya laaye hain Udaipur se?” she mumbled.

She pulled back and studied my face expectantly. I had no answer.

“I'm sorry,” I admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. “This is the first time you traveled somewhere and didn’t bring anything for me.”

I smiled to myself. “Taru, tumhari bhabhi le aaun?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Her stunned expression mirrored my own. I blinked, realization hitting me like a truck.

What the hell, Anirudh?

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Nothing… you heard it wrong.”

Did I just—? No way. Cringe.

Tara frowned and placed a hand on my forehead. “Are you running a fever, bhai?” she asked softly.

"No way, Tara. I was just kidding. I'm fine—"

“Your face is all red,” she cut me off.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “Maybe because of the travel. The car window was open, you know… cold air.”

To be continued.......

There's no Target for this ch. I'll update ASAP