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As soon as she said the word "permission," she froze in disbelief and smacked her forehead in frustration.

“Permission, my foot,” she said, breaking into a sarcastic laugh. “I should just join any company from tomorrow itself, no matter what it takes. Papa and Mummy need me. I can’t afford to neglect them under any circumstance. That’s final.”

With renewed determination, she immediately sat down, opened her bag, and pulled out the list of companies she had carefully written down the night before. She had spent hours researching and had identified the ones with active vacancies. She was already determined to visit each company individually and conduct interviews. She knew June was the peak hiring season when many companies tried to recruit fresh graduates. This was her best chance.

She cross-checked the list on her phone, checked the addresses and interview slots, and arranged her documents neatly. Then, with a deep breath, she leaned back slightly. Her eyes fell on a framed photo near her table. It was her family. Her gaze lingered on her brother’s face.

A gentle smile curved her lips for a moment, but the smile quickly dissolved as her eyes welled up. Her voice cracked slightly as she whispered,

“I miss you…”

Her fingers brushed over the glass of the frame, as if trying to feel the presence of someone who once stood by her like a rock. But now, she had to become her own strength.

CHAPTER 18

ANNOY HIM

As soon as Vikrant enters the room, his eyes immediately go to Jhankar, who is sitting comfortably on his bed with a messy bun perched on top of her head. She is wearing his oversized t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting lowers that clearly don’t belong to her. Unbothered by her appearance, she is deeply engrossed in working on her laptop, typing away with focus and consistency.

Vikrant's gaze shifts from her to the condition of the bed, which now looks as if it has been claimed entirely by her, papers scattered all over it, as though it were only hers to use. A few documents have even slipped to the floor. Without reacting to the mess just yet, he walks toward the closet. As he takes a step, his foot lands on one of his shirts, crumpled on the floor. Picking it up with visible irritation, he opens the closet, only to find all his clothes in complete disarray, many tossed out of place and some even lying on the floor. He immediately turns toward Jhankar.

“What is all this?”

He demands sharply. Jhankar hears the voice close to her, and sensing his looming presence, she slowly lifts her eyes from her laptop, starting from the feet in front of her and moving up to his face. He is standing there, holding one of his shirts, clearly agitated.

“What is all this?” He repeats, this time louder.

"Your shirt?" She replies with an air of nonchalance. "Who even questions a shirt after waving it in someone’s face like that?"

"I'm not asking about the shirt," he says through clenched teeth. "Why are all my clothes scattered on the closet floor?"

"Oh, that." She stretches slightly, still not getting up. "The clothes you picked for your runaway bride are far too loose for me, and honestly, not my style at all. I didn’t feel like torturing myself by wearing them. I already told you I like comfortable clothes, so I assumed you might have some in your collection. I had to dig through a lot before I found these."

"So you took out my clothes... or threw them out?"

"I was just taking them out,” she says matter-of-factly, “but they fell while I was searching. How is that my fault? I finally managed to find this t-shirt and lower, and now I can at least sit and focus on my work. I don’t understand what happens to women after marriage; they suddenly start wearing heavy sarees and uncomfortable suits. Such a hassle. You wouldn’t get it; you don’t have to wear them. Oh, and by the way, I’ve claimed another one of your t-shirts and a pair of lowers too.”

"And may I ask—who gave you the right to buy them?"

“Buy them?” She raises an eyebrow, smiling. “I don’t have clothes here. I need clothes. I can’t go home right now to get my things; there are far more important matters that need my attention. Clothes are not my priority right now.”

“I’ll order some clothes for you,” he offers, his voice tight.

“There’s no need for that,” she replies quickly. “I’ll just steal... I mean borrow some more of yours. I’ll manage with them. Once I’m done with my work, I’ll wash them, iron them properly, and return them to you. After all, you entered my house andkidnapped a girl... I entered your closet and kidnapped some clothes.” She gives a tiny smirk. “But don’t think the score is settled. I’m doing this out of compulsion. And please don’t waste my time; I have a lot to do.”

Vikrant narrows his eyes and looks at her with quiet intensity, but Jhankar doesn't even glance up. She remains deeply immersed in her laptop, typing continuously as if he weren’t even in the room. Without saying another word, Vikrant turns around, tosses the shirt in the laundry basket, and begins picking up every piece of clothing scattered across the floor. He throws them all into the laundry basket too, considering they're soiled now.

Then, he starts organizing the closet with precision and determination. It takes him nearly two hours to restore the closet to its original state. When he finally emerges, worn out and slightly disheveled, he finds Jhankar still comfortably seated on the bed, completely immersed in her work, unaffected by the chaos she caused. Silently, he leaves the room.

It is now time for dinner. Everyone gathers around the set dining table. Sharda has also arrived at the table in her wheelchair, as Vikrant has strictly forbidden her from walking too much and ensures she is taken care of meticulously. However, one chair remains empty—Jhankar’s. Noticing the empty chair, Sharda looks directly at Vikrant and asks him a question.

“Where is Jhankar?”

“She probably has something important to do,” Vikrant replies quickly. “She’ll eat later. You can begin.”

“She was busy even during the afternoon,” Sharda says, frowning. “She didn’t come to eat then either... Radha?”

Radha immediately steps forward with her head bowed respectfully. Vikrant’s eyes are on her now, and so are Ravindra’s.