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Shaurya side-eyed him. “No more updates for you. Not after you kept this secret.”

Varun winced. “Fine, fine. I owe you. I’ll report everything from now on. Even my grocery list. Happy? But seriously, did something happen between you two again?”

“I said I’m not telling you anything. Not a chance,” Shaurya muttered.

“That means something happened,” Varun grinned.

Shaurya said nothing, just turned around and walked back to his villa, followed by Varun, but there was no mistaking the smile that played on his lips. Because Nandini Raichand wasn’t just under his skin anymore. She was already everywhere.

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

Next morning

Raichand Villa felt quieter than usual as Shaurya stepped through the door. His eyes swept across the living space, then drifted instinctively towards the kitchen. He wasn’t here to apologise for last night. Not even close. That kiss was the most alive he had felt in two years. If anything, he was here because he simply couldn’t stay away anymore.

But as his gaze fell on Nandini, all those smug thoughts faded away. She stood at the kitchen counter, bent slightly over a stone mortar and pestle, grinding something urgently. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands loose around her face. Her skin looked pale, and her movements were fast—too hurried. There was a tension in her shoulders, in the way she moved from the spice rack to the stove and back again, mumbling to herself under her breath.

Shaurya stepped inside, his brows furrowing. “Nandini? What happened?”

She looked up, startled, but didn’t slow down. “Daadu is not feeling well,” she said quickly. “His stomach is upset… stomach ache. I knew it. It’s the cheese and cake from last night’s pizza. I shouldn’t have let him have the second slice.”

She turned again, tossing another herb into the mix and crushing it furiously. “You were right. I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t want to ruin his fun, and now—” Her voice broke. “Now he’s in pain.”

Shaurya walked towards her in three long strides and caught her arm. “Hey,” he said gently. “Stop. Just… breathe.”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, and he saw the shimmer of tears waiting to fall. “I hate it when he’s not well. I just want him to be okay, Shaurya. He’s everything to me.”

Shaurya’s heart twisted in his chest as he watched her struggle to hold it all together. Slowly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His thumbs brushed gently at the corners of her eyes where tears had begun to form.

“He will be okay,” he said softly. “You’re doing everything you can. And this isn’t your fault. It’s his age. Even the smallest indulgence can knock things off balance. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She sniffled and shook her head.

“What is he doing now?” he asked.

“He’s resting in his room, trying to get some sleep. I already called the doctor. He suggested just liquids for today and some meds. Lakshmi Aunty has gone out to get them.”

Shaurya nodded and then gestured toward the mixture she was still grinding. “And this?”

Nandini offered a faint smile.

“Daadi used to make this for him. Some ayurvedic blend. He always said it worked better than any medicine. I thought... maybe it’ll help soothe him.”

He watched her for a long moment, the weight she carried so visible in the lines around her tired eyes and the droop of her shoulders.

“You’re doing so much, Nandini,” he said quietly. “He might not always say it, but I see it. Every bit of it. I wish he’d agreed to the male nurse the doctor recommended. You shouldn’t have to do all of this alone. But, as usual, his pride came in between.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about pride, Shaurya. Not really. When people grow old… they don’t just become physically weak. Their world becomes smaller. Their memories get louder. And their trust? It becomes even more selective. My grandfather doesn’t want a nurse or a stranger in his space, not because he thinks they’re incapable. It’s because they’re notus. They’re not me. Or Lakshmi Aunty. He wants familiar faces. People he’s lived with, laughed with, argued with. People who know how he takes his tea, when his back acts up, and what jokes make him forget he’s in pain for a minute.”

She looked up at him now, her eyes still shining with tears. “When he’s sick, it’s not medicine he reaches for. It’s comfort. Familiarity. What he really wants is his home to feel like home. That’s all he’s holding on to.”

Shaurya exhaled, her words slowly sinking in. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Not fully. He’d only seen the stubbornness, the refusals, the unnecessary tantrums. But now, he saw the vulnerability behind it. The fear. The need to feel safe and comforted. And Nandini… she had been carrying that emotional weight every single day, silently and without complaint.

“You’re…” he began, then paused, as if searching for the exact words that would do justice to what he was feeling. “You’re a good woman, Nandini. No, you’re more than good. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. Especially at your age.And believe me, I am not someone who hands out compliments easily.”

She blinked, caught off guard, her lips parting to respond, but before she could say anything, he stepped closer. His hand reached up gently, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered longer than necessary, like he was pouring quiet reassurance and comfort into that one touch.

Then he wrapped his arms around her, slowly, purposefully. A grounding hug. No rush. No urgency. Just warmth and quiet strength.