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Shaurya glared at him like he’d just committed a federal crime. Nandini flung her towel over the balcony railing and slipped back inside, leaving a very grumpy Shaurya behind.

Varun stood and stretched. “Well. Time for me to go. I have a mango quota to earn.”

Shaurya narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going?” he asked, already annoyed.

“To visit the Raichands. Haven’t checked on Grandpa since the hospital. Gotta show the old man some love.”

That did it.

Shaurya tossed the laptop aside and got up too. “Fine. I’ll also come with you.”

Varun turned, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Now you’re following me?”

Shaurya slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt pocket with an irritatingly calm expression. “I told Mr. Raichand I’d be checking on him. No better time than now. Also, if he thinks I’m the villain, I might as well live up to it… by being painfully helpful.”

Varun chuckled and threw an arm around Shaurya’s shoulder as they headed toward the mango tree.

“Look at you,” he said, grinning widely. “The man who couldn’t commit to brunch plans is now volunteering for daily house calls. Incredible. Now that’s what I call a character arc development.”

Shaurya muttered something under his breath.

But even he couldn’t stop the small grin tugging at his lips.

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

Raichand Villa

Nandini returned to her room, closed the balcony door and leaned against it. Her heart fluttered wildly, like a moth too close to a flame. She hadn’t expected to see Shaurya out there this afternoon, stretched out on his patio chair like a cover model of those fancy lifestyle magazines. Even from that distance, she could see how his hair caught the light, how his posture was relaxed but alert, like a panther pretending to be uninterested.

And then when their gazes met, the way he looked at her… it wasn’t the kind of look you gave someone you just tolerated. It was a look that said he was waiting for one glimpse of her.

Was he?

Her cheeks still warmed at the memory of their conversation yesterday. She caught her reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, slightly messy hair, eyes wide and dreamy. Nandini looked every bit like a woman whose morning had been thoroughly thrown off by a man she couldn’t get out of her head.

“Get it together, Nandu,” she muttered to her reflection. “If Grandpa sees this look on your face, he will know you’re crushing on your grumpy neighbour. You don’t want a World War III, do you?”

The thought of Grandpa snapped her back to reality. She remembered she had left him in the living room an hour ago before heading for a shower. Since this morning, he’d been grumbling about being cooped up in his room like a prisoner. So she and Lakshmi Aunty had wheeled him out into the living room to lift his mood.

Nandini quickly applied the nude lip gloss before hurrying downstairs to check on him. Grandpa sat on his chair, flipping through TV channels with the determination of a man trying to decode the universe through soap operas. But every few seconds, he kept glancing at the glass doors separating the living room from the garden to the mango tree outside, as if waiting for someone.

“Missing Daadi?” she asked, reaching him.

He smiled. “I miss her every day, Nandu. But at the moment, I am just wondering why he hasn’t come to check on me yet?”

Nandini was confused. “He? Who are you talking about?”

He leaned back, his eyes twinkling. “Who else? That arrogant neighbour of ours. Shaurya Ahuja.”

And just like that, it clicked. Nandini remembered. This was about yesterday, when Grandpa had pinned the blame for his fall on Shaurya. And Shaurya, never one to back down from a challenge, had promised to stop by daily until Grandpa fully recovered.

She folded her arms and faced him. “I still don’t understand why you told Shaurya thathewas responsible for your fall? You and I both know that it was because of that call from Papa, and the conversation with him disturbed you. Then how could you blame Shaurya for it?”

Grandpa’s expression barely wavered. “Because he walked in at the perfect time to take the fall. And the best part? He didn’t deny it either. In fact,” he said with a crooked smirk, “he offered to come here every day to help me recover. That alone is my revenge.”

“Grandpa,” she sighed.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself, like someone who won a battle without lifting a finger. “Just wait and watch. This is how I’m going to take my sweet revenge over all the ridiculous fights and ego battles he’s picked with me over our mango tree. Let’s see how long he can tolerate me now, in my territory, followingmyschedule.”