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“Outdated things?” Grandpa asked, a bit confused.

Varun nodded solemnly. “Yes, yes. He’s quite good at that. Fixes them right up. Anything—obsolete, ancient, forgotten by time… you name it.”

Shaurya shot Varun a deadly look, but Grandpa, oblivious to the subtext, carried on brightly.

“Well then, Nandini,” he said, turning toward her with mock innocence. “Didn’t you say the juicer hasn’t been working properly? Maybe you should let Mr. Ahuja take a look. After all, he seems to be an expert at repairing anything outdated.”

Varun coughed to cover his laughter. Shaurya groaned under his breath. Nandini was mortified.

“No, that juicer’s fine,” she rushed to say, nearly tripping over her own words. “Perfect, actually. Works like a dream. And Grandpa, why don’t you go and rest until lunch. Let me take you back to your room.”

But Grandpa waved her off. “No need. Now that Mr. Ahuja is here, let him fulfil his noble promise. Shaurya,” he said with exaggerated politeness, “just wheel me back to my bedroom. I need some rest.”

Shaurya shot Nandini a quick look that said kill me now, and stepped forward. Fine. If this old man wanted to play, he’d play.

He bent to help Grandpa up from the couch to the wheelchair, but the moment he did, Grandpa grunted dramatically, “Easy, easy! Be gentle with old men. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

Shaurya didn’t miss a beat. “The only thing I’ve heard about old men is that they lose their minds quickly over silly things. Is that true?”

Varun snorted, barely holding in his laugh. Nandini groaned and pressed her fingers to her forehead. She didn’t know about old men, but she was definitely going to lose her mind soon if they continued all this.

Grandpa shot Shaurya a disapproving look but said nothing. Once seated, he turned to Varun. “You come too. I don’t trust this one not to roll me down from the wheelchair.”

Shaurya gritted his teeth and gripped the wheelchair handles. “Relax. I don’t hurt old men. Especially not the silly ones.”

Varun gave up trying to hold back and burst into laughter, trailing behind them as Shaurya wheeled the very smug Grandpa down the hallway.

And Nandini stood there, watching them go, with one hand on her hip, and the other brushing back a stray curl that had come loose in all the chaos. She didn’t even realise she was smiling. What ridiculous drama these two were up to, and yet somehow, it was the most fun this house had seen in weeks.

If Shaurya really kept coming here every day, she had no idea what would happen next.

And honestly, she wasn’t entirely sure she minded.

From day one, these two had been at war, long before the staircase incident. Over the infamous mango tree. Every other day, there had been a new verbal attack—about the fruit dropping in Shaurya’s pool or about trimming the branches.

But somehow, those fights, as absurd as they were, still hadsubstanceback then. Some depth. Some actual irritation.

And now?

Now they squabbled like kids arguing over who got the last piece of candy. It wasn’t about the mango tree anymore. Now, itwas more about one-upping each other. Who got the last word? Who could annoy the other more?

Childish. Funny. And weirdly… kind of sweet.

Like somewhere along the way, the wall of real anger between them had slowly started to crack. Chipping away, bit by bit.

And maybe if they ever bothered to look past their egos, they might actually start getting along.

Not today, of course. That would be asking for a miracle.

But someday?

Nandini had a strange, quiet feeling that the two most stubborn men in her life might surprise her after all.

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

Nearly thirty minutes later, Shaurya stepped into the kitchen, instantly greeted by the warm, familiar aroma of ghee sizzling on hot rotis. At the counter, Nandini was busy rolling out dough into perfect circles, her movements swift and practiced. She was muttering something under her breath, and while he couldn’t quite catch the words, he definitely caught his name—and Varun’s—woven somewhere into her quiet, creative rant. Her sleeves were pushed up, a few strands of hair escaping her high bun, her cheeks slightly flushed from the kitchen heat. She looked flustered, fierce, and utterly beautiful.

While he was here, Varun was still busy entertaining Grandpa with some exaggerated tale about a scooter chase and a missing shoe.