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“Mishraji,” he said. “Yes, I need your boys to come to trim my mango tree branches. Not too much. Just a bit. Tomorrow morning, if possible. The branches have gotten really wild.”

About thirty minutes later, Grandpa still sat under the tree, mumbling to it as if it were his late wife scolding him from the heavens above. Shaurya stepped out of his villa across the boundary wall and started towards the Raichand home. He was mid-call, waving his hands with that same intensity he reservedfor boardrooms, but as he neared the entrance, he ended the call after spotting Grandpa under the tree.

Naturally, Grandpa spoke first. “I just called Mishra. He’ll be here with his men to trim the branches. They’re growing out of control.”

Shaurya raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Really? That’s... unexpected. You’ve been stubbornly refusing to do anything about it till now. What changed now?”

Grandpa lifted his chin, pride and stubbornness swirling in his tone. “Consider it a tip for your... services. A thank-you for your self-declared healing regime.”

Shaurya rolled his eyes. “Ah. Thanks for your ego-disguised gratitude.”

He glanced up at the branches with a smirk. “I just hope Mishraji doesn’t climb the tree himself. I don’t want to be blamed forhisfall too.”

Grandpa scoffed. “Mishra doesn’tclimbtrees. He runs a gardening service. His men will handle it. You don’t have to worry.”

Shaurya chuckled for the first time that day, realising that the old man didn’t really get that he was just teasing. The strange thing was that he was never the kind to tease either, but lately, things were changing.

And just like that, Shaurya sat down on the small ottoman beside Grandpa’s wheelchair, under the shade of the mango tree that had once divided them. For once, he didn’t wear his usual smirk or confident posture. He looked serious. Grounded.

“I wanted to say something,” he began.

Grandpa glanced at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

“I’m sorry for that day,” Shaurya said.

Grandpa stiffened, clearly realising which day the young man was talking about. His fingers curled faintly around the armrest.

Shaurya continued, looking at him. “The New Year’s party… I shouldn’t have said those things. You had every right to be angry. That night, I was already dealing with something. A message from someone I’d rather never hear from again. It got under my skin. And when we crossed paths... and it just spiralled. You said things. I said worse. I lost control. That’s on me.”

Grandpa’s lips tightened as the memory surfaced. The words Shaurya had hurled that night had cut deep, phrases meant to wound, and they had succeeded.

“I had no right to talk about your family,” Shaurya added, his voice now dipped with regret. “That’s not my place. I know what that feels like. When someone throws your broken pieces in your face like you’re the reason they cracked in the first place. I’ve lived through it. I know that sting. And still, I said those hurtful words. Which makes it even worse. I’m not saying this to repair my image in front of the community. I just... wanted you to hear it from me.”

Grandpa’s eyes remained fixed on him, and then a long, slow breath escaped him. “Some words prick deeper than knives, Mr. Ahuja. Even if the wound scabs over… the scar stays.”

Shaurya nodded solemnly. He expected silence after that. But then Grandpa let out a deep sigh and spoke, “But despite being older, wiser, and far more charming than you—”

Shaurya raised an eyebrow as Grandpa smirked.

“—I wasn’t any better. I didn’t exactly keep my mouth shut either, did I? What I said about your divorce… about your past… that wasn’t just harsh, it was cruel. I crossed a line too. I am no one to judge your divorce. That wasn’t wise. And certainly not worthy of my age or experience. I was angry. You were angry. And we both acted like idiots. We both messed up that night. Big time. So, if you’re man enough to apologise for your part... then I should be too. So... forgive me as well.”

For a beat, Shaurya stared at him with brows slightly raised, his expression caught between surprise and disbelief.

“But,” Grandpa said sharply, his tone flipping back to familiar territory, “that doesn’t mean I will tolerate your unrelenting intrusion over my precious mango tree.”

Shaurya stood, casually dusting off his jeans. “Of course not. But trimming down a few branches…yourwords, not mine…is enough peace for now.”

Grandpa huffed. “Whatever. Enough of this emotional detox. Wheel me back inside. The party’s started, hasn’t it?”

With a small shake of his head and a half-smile, Shaurya gripped the wheelchair handles, spinning them around with ease as Grandpa added. “It’s time to face the music.”

“And my fan club,” Shaurya mumbled under his breath, not loud enough for Grandpa to hear.

He knew exactly how the women of Serene Meadows reacted to him. The flirty smiles, the subtle compliments, the exaggerated laughter. It wasn’t anything new. He was used to that kind of attention; it came with the territory.

But what amused him more than all the giggling admiration was the way Nandini responded to it. The subtle narrowing of her eyes when someone got too close, the tiny huffs she tried to hide, the way her voice got just a little sharper when one of her friends hung around him a little too long.

She might not say it aloud, but her jealousy? That was impossible to miss.