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She realised her mistake immediately.

Wait. Did she just imply that he was the hero in this story?

What. The. F—

Shaurya’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. “Hero?” he repeated slowly.

Nandini swallowed. “Hypothetically! Don’t take it literally.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, his phone rang. Irritation flickered across his face as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, answering the call in his deep, business-like tone.

Nandini watched him go, exhaling heavily.

She was flustered, annoyed, and, above all, furious at herself. What was that slip of the tongue?!

Muttering under her breath, she turned back to her plants, gripping the hose with unnecessary aggression.

“The nerve of that man. Always thinks the world revolves around him. The Serene Meadows might, but I certainly won’t.”

She huffed, continuing to water the plants with renewed determination.

But a tiny, traitorous part of her whispered.Then why does your heart race every time he looks at you?

Urgh!

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

Christmas Day

Fairy lights twinkled along the pathways of Serene Meadows, creating a magical atmosphere. Christmas wreaths adorned every villa door, and soft carols could be heard from distant houses. The annual Christmas tradition was in full swing. Grandpa Keshav, dressed as Santa Claus, was out with his old friends, distributing sweets and gifts to all the neighbours.

At home, Nandini was curled up on the couch, wrapped in her cosy blanket, aimlessly flipping through the channels. Thehouse felt too quiet without Grandpa’s constant banter, and she was starting to regret staying back. Just as she settled to watch a romantic Hallmark movie, her gaze snapped to the window.

A shadow moved inside Villa No. 11 from the back door.

Her brows furrowed. Was it Shaurya? But his car wasn’t outside. She had seen him drive away earlier in the evening. If he hadn’t returned yet, then who the hell was that?

She pressed herself against the curtain, peeking into the darkened house next door. The silhouette moved confidently through the rooms as if he/she knew their way around. Not the behaviour of a startled thief. Maybe the thief had planned this since long and chose Christmas night in particular, knowing everyone would be too busy in the festivities to notice.

Her heart hammered. Oh God, a burglar? In Serene Meadows? Her Sherlock Holmes instincts kicked in. There was no way she was letting a thief get away with robbing Mr. Grumpy Ahuja.

Nandini spun around the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. Her gaze landed on Grandpa’s antique shotgun mounted on the wall.

Nope. It’s probably rusted.

Then, in the corner, she spotted his cricket bat. He still played matches with the kids here, bragging about his skills. Perfect.

She grabbed it and, with zero hesitation, tiptoed toward the garden. The mango tree’s branches rustled in the chilly air. She pressed a hand against the bark, whispering, “Daadi, bless me with courage. And if I die… please, please haunt Shaurya for not locking his backdoor properly.”

The wind picked up, making the leaves rustle even more. She knew her Daadi was probably laughing over her silliness.

Taking a deep breath, she crouched near the bushes, her eyes locked on the shadow inside the villa. The backdoor was still ajar from where the intruder had entered.

Nandini gulped down her fear and hurried to step inside the villa using that same door. As soon as she entered, there was this distinct smell in the air, like expensive wood polish and something undeniably masculine. The villa was plunged into darkness, but thanks to the moonlight spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, she could tell that it was huge. The sheer size of the place was ridiculous—high ceilings, grand chandeliers, sleek furniture that screamed class and money unlike theirs which was more of old wooden charm.

Focus, Nandini. You’re not here to admire your enemy’s stupid rich-guy aesthetics.