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She grabbed his arm in desperation. “I can’t be caught sneaking into your villa at night. Do something!”

Shaurya gritted his teeth, glancing at the door, and then at the sheer mess of a situation she had created.

And then the doorbell rang again.

“You have a whole damn villa to hide in, Raichand. Figure it out,” he hissed, exhaling sharply. Just as he was about to leave toopen the door, Nandini yanked his arm back, forcing him to face her again.

“It’s Nandini… Call me Nandini. No Miss Raichand or kiddo. Understood?” she scowled before dashing behind the curtains of his gym room. Shaurya cursed under his breath. Unbelievable!

Shaking his head, he reluctantly went to face his unwelcome Christmas guest.

He opened the door, and there they were—the elderly gentlemen of Serene Meadows, lined up like a group of festive troublemakers. And even if his main enemy, Mr. Keshav Raichand, was disguised in a Santa Claus outfit, Shaurya would recognise him anywhere.

“Yes?” Shaurya drawled, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze landing directly on Keshav Raichand, who stood front and centre, holding a large red sack of gifts over his shoulder.

Keshav’s expression was less than enthusiastic as he muttered, “Merry Christmas,” with all the warmth of someone wishing their arch-nemesis a long life.

Shaurya smirked. “Merry Christmas,” he replied, though his tone was just as reluctant.

Mr. Mukesh Verma, the ever-cheerful gentleman from Villa 5, stepped forward, his twinkling eyes filled with holiday spirit. “Shaurya, my boy! We’re here to spread the Christmas cheer, just as we do every year, distributing gifts to every home in Serene Meadows.”

Shaurya nodded, already reaching for the gift so they could all leave.

But Grandpa Keshav wasn’t done yet. He dug into his sack and pulled out a shiny red gift box, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he gave it to Shaurya.

“I sincerely hope that this Christmas and New Year, God gifts you with some sanity, so you stop fighting silly battles.”

Shaurya’s smirk widened. “And I hope God gifts you a measuring tape this year, so you can finally figure out where your property ends and where my patience begins.”

Grandpa’s fake Santa smile vanished instantly.

Before he could retaliate, Mr. Verma’s gaze shifted past Shaurya. His expression changed to one of curiosity. “Wait a minute… Is someone else here?”

Shaurya stiffened. “What?”

“I just saw someone move toward the backdoor,” Mr. Verma said, squinting into the dimly lit villa.

Shaurya’s pulse spiked for a second before he masked it.

All the old men were now peering behind him, their curiosity piqued. Shaurya stood taller, his broad form blocking their view.

“You’re all probably imagining things,” he said smoothly. “There’s no one in my house.”

Mr. Verma shook his head. “No, no. I swear I saw a woman running toward the backdoor.”

Shaurya exhaled slowly through his nose. “Then, Mr. Verma, maybe you need a full night’s sleep. It’s quite late, and at your age, staying awake too long can cause… well, let’s just say, imaginative tendencies.”

The men chuckled, except for Grandpa, who folded his arms, narrowing his eyes.

“No need to worry about our sleep,” Grandpa shot back. “We are tough men, unlike you young ones who need eight hours of beauty sleep just to function. Even without rest, our eyes and minds remain sharp.”

Shaurya pretended to be in deep thought before he smirked. “You’re right, Mr. Raichand. Your generation is tougher. In fact, I’m sure you all could survive without sleep for weeks. But let’s not test that theory tonight. I’m really very sleepy. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Grandpa huffed in irritation.

“No manners. No politeness,” he muttered, adjusting his Santa hat before stomping away, his sack of gifts swinging aggressively behind him.

As the group walked down the path, Mr. Verma still looked unconvinced. “I’m telling you, Keshav, I really saw a woman.”