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But Shaurya continued to adjust his cuff, ignoring her words. “I’ve heard that Serene Meadows is abuzz with gossip aboutsome mysterious woman seen at my villa on Christmas night. I’d rather not help them connect the dots and figure out it was you.”

“Excuse me?”

He met her stunned expression with that maddening calm. “I’m just trying to saveyoufrom a scandal. You’re welcome.”

“I’m not scared of gossip,” she shot back.

Shaurya tilted his head slightly. “Haven’t you lived here long enough to know what this community can do? They’ll have you married to me and pregnant with twins before February if they ever find out it wasyouin my villa that night.”

And just like that, Nandini’s mind flashed back to a vivid memory from her childhood.

She must’ve been around twelve. That winter, their neighbours—Supriya and Aditya, both barely 22—had been caught lingering a little too long by the community hall, laughing a little too hard, their hands brushing just a little too casually. The entire neighbourhood caught wind of it faster than a forest fire in the dry season. What started as harmless flirting had, within days, turned into a full-blown scandal.

By the following weekend, their families were meeting over trays of sweets, and within two weeks, Supriya and Aditya were married—complete with garlands, band baaja, and a flock of gossiping aunties nodding in smug satisfaction, acting like they had successfully orchestrated a royal union.

Two years later, word came back that the newlyweds had indeed had twins, and had moved far away from Serene Meadows to some metro city where, presumably, they could walk next to someone in public without a wedding garland being thrown over them by force.

It was one of those classic cautionary tales whispered to every young girl in the neighbourhood like folklore: never make eye contact for too long, never accept an extra slice of cake from a boy, and for heaven’s sake, never be seen walking hometogether after sunset. The community was always watching, always ready with a guest list and a pandit on speed dial.

And now, standing here in a parking lot, holding a brass cake stand like it was a live bomb, Nandini could feel that old childhood panic creeping in again. Not that she was actually scared. Just… aware. Keenly aware.

She narrowed her eyes at Shaurya. “You think you’re being clever, don’t you?”

“I think I’m being realistic,” he replied, smug as ever. “But if you’re okay with becoming the next Supriya—”

“Don’t even joke about that,” she cut in, horrified.

“Oh, I’m not joking. One wrong look at each other, and we’ll be registered, ringed, and raising toddlers before you can say Happy New Year. And I don’t want that.”

She glared at him, her cheeks heating, not sure if it was from fury or the very real mental image of them trying to survive Serene Meadows’ version of forced domestic bliss.

Shaurya just raised an eyebrow and held the brass cake stand like it was some kind of victory trophy.

“Anyway,” he said with infuriating coolness, “thank you for the gift. I’ll cherish it.”

That did it.

“You know what?” she snapped. “May your smug, sarcastic, emotionally constipated New Year be everything you deserve.”

And with that, she spun around, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like unbelievable, her curls bouncing behind her like punctuation marks.

Shaurya watched her flounce off, fighting a grin. He shouldn’t be smiling. He most definitely shouldn’t. But dammit, he was.

Both Grandpa and his granddaughter were really something!

CHAPTER 6

31stDecember Night – Raichand Villa

Nandini stood in front of her full-length mirror, assessing her reflection. She had chosen a red dress that evening—a fitted off-shoulder crop top with delicate lace detailing that hugged her waist just right—and a knee-length chiffon skirt that swayed with every step she took. The off-shoulder neckline highlighted her graceful collarbone. Paired with black stilettos and statement silver jewellery, she was all set to welcome the new year with a bang.

New Year’s Eve had always held a special place in her heart. It symbolised fresh beginnings, renewed hopes and the comfort of spending cherished moments with loved ones. She adored the little traditions. Like the countdown to midnight, the explosion of confetti, and the heartfelt hugs from family and friends. The chilly December air, the clinking of wine glasses, and the melodies of celebration created an ambience she eagerly looked forward to each year.

She applied a final touch of gloss to her lips and made her way downstairs, looking for her grandfather. The house was quiet, and he was nowhere to be seen. Furrowing her brows, she stepped out into the garden, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself as the cool night air hit her. Her intuition led her to the mango tree, and there he was. As expected, he sat there,engaged in a quiet conversation with the tree, his eyes glistening under the soft glow of the garden lights.

Concerned, Nandini approached him gently.

“Daadu, are you alright?” she inquired, noticing the subtle way he wiped the corner of his eye.