Page 27

The maid guides Jhankar to a side room. Vikrant remains where he is, supervising the frantic cleaning. His discomfortis palpable. Until the room is perfectly clean, he can’t relax, not even for a second. He had planned to change clothes the moment he entered, especially after seeing the footprints left by Jhankar. But upon witnessing the disarray, he couldn’t help but prioritize cleaning over everything else.

Meanwhile, Jhankar follows the maid to the closet. The woman opens a large cupboard, revealing an array of women’s clothing. Jhankar’s brows lift slightly. She realizes immediately that all of it was arranged in advance for Vikrant’s bride. She observes everything cautiously. She simply needs something comfortable. The maid pulls out a few soft, breathable outfits suitable for nighttime wear. Jhankar selects one, then begins removing her jewelry with the maid’s help. As the maid assists her, Jhankar can’t help but ask curiously:

“Why did your sir get so angry over such a small thing?”

The maid hesitates for a moment, then answers honestly.

“Sir has severe OCD. He doesn’t like even a speck of dirt or disorganization. He doesn’t let anyone enter his room. He personally cleans it before leaving for the office, and he keeps everything perfectly aligned. Even the tiniest wrinkle on his clothes annoys him.”

“Ohh…”

Jhankar tries to hide the mischievous grin forming on her lips, but it slips out anyway. The moment she finishes taking off her jewelry, she turns to the maid and says with a glint in her eye just loud enough for herself.

“Well, now I know exactly how to drive him crazy.”

"You go back to the room and help everyone. I’ll manage the rest here."

As soon as the maid leaves, Jhankar begins to laugh loudly, pressing her lips together in an effort to muffle the sound. After a few seconds, she composes herself and gazes into the mirror with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"So, Mr. Vikrant Dhanraj, you have OCD… Not bad… If I don’t make you so uncomfortable within two days that you demand a separate room, then my name isn’t Jhankar Dixit. You’ll be the one begging to separate our rooms, and once that happens, you’ll also be the one withdrawing from this so-called marriage. According to your own words, you left me your own choice. That means you won’t be able to take any action against my brother. That will be my victory."

Outside, she can still hear noises and the scuffling of feet. Clearly, the staff is hard at work cleaning. Taking advantage of the moment, she enjoys a long, relaxing bath, washing away the tension of the day. After drying off, she changes into a set of loose, comfortable clothes that are slightly oversized for her but far better than the weighty bridal attire. She places her bag in a safe spot near her reach, guarding it with the same vigilance as before. Once the sounds die down and silence returns, she steps quietly into the now-spotless room.

All the servants have left. Vikrant is standing in the center, inspecting the room with narrowed eyes, ensuring every speck of dust is gone. Jhankar watches him from the doorway, biting back her laughter. He seems to be ignoring her presence, but suddenly, as if sensing her gaze, he turns sharply in her direction. She immediately looks away, pretending to be occupied with something else as he heads to the closet to change.

As soon as he disappears behind the door, Jhankar hurries to the center of the room and looks around, contemplating her next move. She’s aware that Vikrant has immense self-controland won’t lash out easily, but she also knows that with a little calculated annoyance, she can push him to his limit, and if he snaps, the first thing he’ll likely do is ask her to stay elsewhere, which is precisely what she wants. Moments later, Vikrant reappears, now changed into his nightclothes. Before he can say anything, Jhankar speaks first.

"I don’t want to stay in this room with you at all."

"You don’t have a choice," he replies flatly. "You have to stay here with me. So stop disturbing me and just sleep quietly."

"But I’m not going to sleep on the bed with you, no matter what."

"Then sleep wherever you want, it makes no difference to me."

Without missing a beat, Jhankar bolts to the bed and starts bouncing on the mattress, testing its softness with exaggerated jumps. Vikrant immediately stands up, eyes wide.

"You said you wouldn’t sleep on the bed!" he protests, staring at her. "And no one climbs on the bed like that!"

"I have a habit of climbing like this," she retorts playfully. "And you said I could sleep wherever I want. So, I’ve chosen the bed. Now it’s your turn to decide where you want to sleep."

"This bed is mine," he says coldly.

"Oh, really? Then that sofa is yours too. You’re free to sleep there, I have no objection at all."

Vikrant narrows his eyes and studies her closely. He knows very well that she’s deliberately provoking him. Instead of reacting, he silently walks over to the bed, lies down on one side, and closes his eyes, ignoring her completely. Jhankar, startled, stares at him. How could he lie down so calmly? She’s the one who jumped on the bed in defiance, and yet he hasn’t even scoldedher? This wasn't the reaction she expected. She stares at him, fuming inside.

But she’s not one to give up so easily. She jumps up again and sits beside him on the bed. Vikrant opens one eye and glares at her. Just then, she lets out a loud, dramatic sneeze, covering her mouth with both hands. She then wipes her nose on her palm, and before he can say a word, she wipes her palm across the bedspread. Vikrant bolts upright, utterly disgusted.

"What is this nonsense? Who does that?"

"What?" she says innocently.

Before he can answer, she sneezes again, this time more loudly. She yanks the duvet over her mouth and buries her face in it, pretending to control her sneeze. Vikrant runs a frustrated hand through his hair and stares at her with a mixture of disbelief and rage.

"What are you doing? Do you have any idea how unhygienic that is?"

"Why are you shouting like that in the middle of the night? Just go to sleep quietly."