Page 86

Nandini didn’t resist. Instead, she melted into it. Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest as if that was exactly where her restless heart needed to be. And somehow, the walls she’d built to stay strong for her grandfather began to crumble. In that one embrace, her breath steadied. Her panic softened. Her exhaustion finally eased. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she had to carry everything alone.

Shaurya closed his eyes for a second, feeling her heart beat against his chest. He wasn’t used to this quiet comfort of simply being there for someone without words. And yet, in this moment, nothing had ever felt more natural. More right.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

And for Nandini, that silence... was everything.

Just then, a voice rang out from the living room.

“Nandini beta, I got the medicine!” Lakshmi Aunty’s voice carried through the hallway.

Startled, Nandini pulled away almost instantly, stepping back to create a respectable distance between them. Her cheeks flushed with the awareness of where they were and who might walk in next.

Shaurya nodded, understanding her retreat without taking it personally.

“You make the medicine,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll go check on your grandfather.”

He started towards the hallway, but just as he reached the doorway, she called softly after him. He turned back, curious.

She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you... for everything.”

His answering smile was slow, but it reached his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything else. With a nod, he disappeared down the hall.

Shaurya stepped into Grandpa’s bedroom, his eyes immediately going to the older man. Keshav Raichand lay propped up on his bed, a hot water bag pressed to his stomach and a stubborn scowl on his face. He looked grumpier than usual, not because of the pain—no, that was manageable. What irked him probably was being caught in this vulnerable state, where he was stuck between the ankle fracture limiting his mobility and now this stomach upset.

“I told you not to eat that extra cheese,” Shaurya said as he entered. “You should’ve listened.”

Grandpa let out a long, theatrical sigh and attempted to sit up, but before he could complain, Shaurya was already at his side, one hand steadying his shoulder, the other gently adjusting the pillow behind his back. For someone who always seemed annoyed by the older man’s antics, his touch was surprisingly tender.

“If I don’t eat now, when will I?” Grandpa muttered, settling into a sitting position with a grunt. “I don’t have much time left to enjoy these little perks, you know.”

Shaurya paused mid-adjustment. “Don’t say that,” he said, more serious than usual. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to live long enough to see your great-grandkids. Nandini needs you more than you think.”

For a beat, Grandpa said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips lifted in a rare soft smile. “I didn’t think you had it in you to saysomething so… emotionally mature,” he mused. “Consider me impressed.”

Shaurya chuckled, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I always thought you were shallow,” Grandpa went on. “A man with a fancy phone, a cold heart, and a bank account that talks louder than his emotions. Just like my son.” His face darkened slightly at the mention of his estranged child.

“But you’re not like him,” he continued, shaking his head. “You’ve got a heart. You’ve got depth.”

Before Shaurya could respond, the door opened again. Nandini entered the room, carrying a small steel bowl with a brownish paste that smelled faintly of cloves, cumin, and something unmistakably bitter.

“Here,” she said, approaching the bed. “Daadi used to make this for you whenever you got sick, remember?”

Grandpa grunted in displeasure. “How could I forget that taste?”

He looked between Nandini and Shaurya, his smile broadening into something sly. “You’re right,” he said to Shaurya. “I will live till I see Nandu’s kids. At least two—one boy, one girl. After that, I’m done. But don’t expect me to settle for anything less, Nandu.”

The bowl in her hand nearly slipped. Her cheeks flamed instantly. She looked from her grandfather to Shaurya, who was looking right back at her with raised eyebrows and the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Daadu!” she exclaimed. “We can talk about that later. First, please take this medicine.”

Grandpa took the bowl in his hands, ate the medicine in one dramatic gulp, and made a face. “Still bitter,” he grumbled. “Your Daadi had a better hand with this stuff. But it should do the trick.”

Just then, Lakshmi entered the room with her usual bustling energy. “Mishraji is here with his men,” she said. “They’ve come to trim the mango tree.”

Grandpa nodded. “Oh, yes. Take me outside. I want to supervise.”