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Story: The Deceit

“We’ll talk later,” I murmur softly.

She just nods. This isn’t about pleasing Dad or anyone else. Simran is trying to be the daughter-in-law she thinks this family expects. I just wish she realises that her worth isn’t measured by how well she fits into some traditional mould but by the person she truly is. If only she could see that her value to this family far exceeds these superficial expectations.

After lunch, the house is buzzing with activity. Simran dives straight into planning the menu, but I can see the confusion on her face. She definitely needs assistance in doing this. Although the staff and other chefs are there to help her, but despite her initial confidence, I can see the nervousness in her every move.

When I finally corner her in the kitchen, she’s busy instructing the staff members on the dishes to prepare.

“Simran,” I say, pulling her aside gently. “You don’t have to do this.”

She looks up at me, her eyes soft but resolute.

“I want to, Vishnu. Not for your dad or anyone else—but for myself. I want to prove to myself that I can handle this.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not even to yourself. You’re already more than enough,” I press on, cupping her face in my hands.

Her lips quirk into a small smile. “Let me do this, okay? I’ll be fine.”

I nod, though my chest tightens at the thought of her pushing herself too much.

“If you need anything—anything at all—call me,” I say, hovering by the kitchen entrance.

Simran’s laugh fills the space between us.

“The great Vishnu Pratap Walia helping his wife in the kitchen? Have you ever even entered a kitchen before?”

I pause, realising she’s right. My life has always been about protecting my family, and that certainly didn’t involve culinary adventures. She reaches up to pinch my cheeks playfully.

“And if you help me here,” she adds with a knowing smile, “the family and guests will surely starve tonight, as food is not all we’d be making.”

I glance at the kitchen countertop, the corners of my lips curling upward. Her words spark a vivid image in my mind, and before I can stop myself, I pull her closer.

“That’s a nice fantasy... maybe we can try someday.”

Her cheeks flush, and she smacks my chest lightly.

“Not here in Walia Mansion,” she protests, though her eyes sparkle with mischief. “With the entire family around and a dozen staff buzzing around... this isn’t exactly the best place for such… intimate activities.”

She’s right, of course. I lean down and place a gentle kiss on top of her head.

“Then New York it is... we can give Claire a break that day.”

The mention of New York brings an immediate smile to her face.

“Now you’re talking,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before pushing me away gently. “Now go before I start daydreaming about that day already.”

“Oh, I bet you will,” I say, already unable to stop the images flooding my mind—Simran and me, on her kitchen countertop back in New York, having our way with each other.

She waves me off with a playful glare, and I force myself to turn away, heading back to check on Veer, who’s still with Dad outside. These domestic moments with Simran, even the ones we just imagined, make everything else worthwhile.

SIMRAN

I stand in the gleaming kitchen of Walia Mansion, which now feels more like a battlefield than a place to cook. I’m staring at the menu I put together for tonight’s dinner, my fingers drumming nervously on the countertop. How did I even end up here? Who in their right mind volunteers to cook an elaborate dinner for 15 people—including VIP guests—and thinks they can pull it off solo?

Oh, right, that would be me.

The chefs and the staff have been incredibly helpful, showing me where everything is, but that doesn’t make the task any less daunting. And like a fool, I even sent them away, determined to do this myself. I’ve cooked Indian food before, but it’s usually just for Veer and me, or maybe for Vishnu on a good day. But cooking for the CM’s guests? What if I mess up? What if it’s too spicy? Or not spicy enough? What if…

For the love of God, Simran, what were you thinking?I mean, it’s not just dinner; it’s dinner at Chief Minister Pratap Walia’s house! And I’m his new bahu, the one who has to impress everyone tonight, right from the Walia family to the Shergills and their high-profile VIP friends.

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