Tu itrr itrr sa mere

Saanson mein bikhar jaa

Main fakeer tere qurbat ka

Tujhse tu maangun de

Tu ishq ishq sa mere

Rooh mein aake bas ja

Jis aur teri shehnaai

Uss orey main bhaagun re

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

I sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Avyant’s car, my fingers curled into the fabric of my dress. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between us, but inside my head, chaos reigned.

I had checked the bill before leaving the salon, and the number still haunted me. I hadn’t expected the prices to be that high. What kind of haircut cost this much? And the spa treatments? Sure, they were fancy, but still!

I stole a glance at Avyant, who was effortlessly steering the car with one hand, his attention on the road. He didn’t seem bothered at all. Obviously. It was pocket change for him.

But for me?

I swallowed hard. I had to return the money. Somehow.

Clearing my throat, I decided to bring it up. “Uh… so… about the salon bill.”

Avyant didn’t look at me. “What about it?”

I hesitated. “It was… um, a little too much. I’ll pay you back soon, Kuwarsa.”

His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Don’t call me that.”

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Why not, Kuwarsa?”

Avyant exhaled, clearly unimpressed. “Because I said so.”

I shrugged. “You’re the prince, after all. And my Dadi and I worked for your family. It’s only respectful.”

He shot me a glance, his expression unreadable. “That doesn’t mean you have to call me that.”

I grinned. “But I want to.”

Avyant let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

For a second, I just watched him. The way his lips curved, the way his shoulders relaxed—he looked almost… like before.

Before we became strangers.

I remembered how easily we used to laugh together, how he once confided in me about things no one else knew. Back then, I didn’t have to think twice before teasing him, knowing he would fire back with a grin.

But now…

Now, there was a wall between us, built over years of distance. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to tear it down.

I cleared my throat, pushing the thought away. “Anyway, about the bill, I’ll return the money.”

He smirked, as if I had just cracked a joke. “And I said I don’t need it.”

I exhaled sharply. “please??”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so rich?” I shot back, crossing my arms.

He let out a soft laugh, clearly amused. “That’s an interesting complaint.”

I huffed. “I’m serious! It was too much, and I don’t like owing people money.”

Avyant was silent for a moment before saying, “I need you.”

I froze. My breath hitched. My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”

A slow smirk curved on his lips. “I need you to cook for me.”

I blinked, processing his words. “Cook? For you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I asked, frowning. “You have an entire staff for that.”

“They don’t make authentic food like I like.” His tone was casual, but his expression was serious.

I stared at him. Was he for real?

He glanced at me, his smirk deepening. “So? Deal?”

A part of me wanted to refuse. To say no just for the sake of defiance.

But another part—the part that still remembered how he used to be—hesitated.

I narrowed my eyes. “…Fine.”

The smirk on his lips widened, as if he had won something.

But if he thought I was going to serve him a five-star meal, he was in for a surprise.

As the car neared Avyant’s office, panic shot through me. My heartbeat picked up, and before I could think, the words tumbled out frantically—

"Stop the car!"

Avyant shot me a confused glance but didn’t slow down. "What?"

"Stop the car!" I repeated, my voice rising.

His brows furrowed, but he finally pulled over. The moment the car halted, I exhaled sharply, trying to gather my thoughts.

He turned to me, his expression a mix of confusion and mild amusement. "Care to explain what’s wrong?"

I swallowed, gripping the edge of my seat. "I… I don’t want to go to your office."

His gaze sharpened. "Why?"

I looked away, pressing my lips together. How was I supposed to explain this? If my friends saw me with him, they’d bombard me with questions. And if they found out that he had taken me to the salon, it would only lead to more questions—ones I had no answers for.

"I just… don’t want to be seen with you," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence stretched between us.

When I glanced at Avyant, his expression had shifted—still unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes.

"Is that so?" His voice was calm, but I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused.

I swallowed again, gripping my dress tightly. "Yes."

I saw his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His jaw clenched briefly before he muttered, "Get out."

My breath hitched.

I turned to look at him, unsure if I had heard right. His expression was unreadable, but there was something cold in his voice that made my stomach twist.

"Kuwarsa__"

"I said, get out," he repeated, his tone sharper this time.

Without another word, I pushed open the door and stepped out. The moment I shut it behind me, he drove off, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement.

I stood there, watching as his car disappeared down the road, my heart hammering.

I don’t understand this guy.

He avoided me for years. Even after marriage, he ignored me for six months. In college, he behaved like I was a complete stranger.

And now—now he’s angry?

For what?

This guy is beyond my understanding.

Without delay, I started walking. Avyant’s office wasn’t far, so I picked up my pace, determined to get there as quickly as possible.

As I approached the building, I spotted the security guard—the same one who had stopped me earlier when my hair was a complete mess. Remembering that moment, a smirk tugged at my lips. This time, things were different.

With deliberate ease, I flipped my freshly done hair, making sure he noticed. His eyes flickered with recognition, and though he said nothing, I could see the difference in his expression.

Satisfied, I strode inside, feeling victorious. But before I could bask in my small win, the receptionist waved me over urgently.

"Miss, you need to hurry up! The meeting has already started."

My eyes widened. What?!

Without wasting another second, I rushed toward the conference room, my mojaris tapping against the marble floor.

After reaching the door, I took hold of the handle and drew in a deep breath. Steadying myself, I pushed the door open just a little and asked,

“May I come in, sir?”

His response was immediate—a gruff "Come in," without looking at me.

My friends looked at me—and kept looking. Their eyes stayed fixed on me, shock evident on their faces. They must have been stunned by my new look.

I looked around, searching for a chair to settle down. There were only two available—one beside Avyant and the other beside Raghav.

Since I was determined to avoid Avyant, the choice was obvious. Without hesitation, I took the seat next to Raghav.

"You look amazing with this new haircut, Sanj," he whispered, his voice low but appreciative.

Before I could respond, a sharp throat-clearing sound cut through the room.

Avyant’s voice followed, cold and authoritative.

"It would be beneficial for all of us to focus on the meeting rather than wasting time whispering nonsense."

The room fell silent.

Of course, everything related to me would be nonsense for him.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I settled for addressing him with some amazing profanities in my head.

With that satisfying little mental rebellion, I forced myself to focus on the meeting.

The meeting was centered around the detailed report we had prepared on the children of the slum. It covered various aspects—living conditions, education levels, and the ratio of children in different age groups.

We had compiled data on how many children were enrolled in schools versus those who had dropped out, the reasons behind the dropouts, and the percentage of children forced into labor to support their families. The report also highlighted issues like malnutrition, lack of healthcare, and the alarming number of children without birth certificates, making them invisible in official records.

Discussions revolved around possible solutions—setting up educational programs, improving access to healthcare, and ways to encourage families to send their children to school.

Avyant stood up and began stating his ideas after the report. He turned on the projector, his voice steady and authoritative as he explained his views on the matter.

His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his blazer was draped over the back of his chair.

"Fuck… look at those veiny arms," Chanchal whispered beside me, her voice filled with admiration.

I turned to her, finding her practically drooling, completely lost in her own world.

"Even though I’m trying to stop my brain from going down the dirty road, I just can’t," she added dreamily.

I rolled my eyes before discreetly kicking her shin under the table.

She let out a loud hissing sound, making the entire room fall silent for a second.

Heads turned, but the most dangerous one was his. Avyant’s sharp gaze landed directly on us, his brows slightly furrowing.

His eyes zeroed in on me, sharp and unyielding. A dangerous look flickered across his face before he spoke.

"If you are not interested in the meeting, you can get out of here, Miss Gaur, and relieve us from your presence. Let us use our precious time wisely."

I stared at him in disbelief. Why is he always behind me?

"But… Mr. Rathore—"

"I want you out of this room, Miss Gaur, and I won’t repeat myself."

His tone was final, leaving no room for argument.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed back my chair and stood up. Without another word, I walked out of the room, my fists clenched at my sides.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hey Poochiees.

How was the chapter?

What do you think will happen next.

In which team you are, team Avyant Or team Sanjita.

Whom would you support?

Let me know.