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Nandini frowned. “No, you’re staying in bed. You’re unwell.”

He waved her off. “You have that investor call, remember? You told me about it two days ago. Go take it. Don’t miss your future over the tree trimming.”

Shaurya stood up. Although he had no idea of the startup or the investor call which Nandini had, he knew he wouldn’t let her be bothered with the tree trimming supervision. “He’s right. Let us handle this.”

“But—” she started.

“When the elders decide,” Shaurya interrupted smoothly, “you obey. Go and close that deal. We’ll take care of the garden drama.”

Nandini paused for a moment, then finally nodded with a resigned sigh. “Alright. Now that you two have made peace, I trust there won’t be any drama if you’re working together—especially when it involves the mango tree.”

“We’ll be fine,” Shaurya said, smirking as he took hold of the wheelchair.

He wheeled Grandpa out of the room, and the old man was already giving instructions about how much to trim, what branches were sacred, and which ones were ruining Shaurya’s pool.

As they disappeared down the hallway, Nandini watched them go, a strange warmth settling in her chest. Even if it was slightly chaotic workwise, for the first time in a long time, her world felt… steady.

And oddly enough, it was thanks to a man who had barged into her life under the most unusual circumstances and was now right in the centre of it.

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

It had been over an hour since the mango tree trimming had begun, and Grandpa hadn’t sat still for a single minute. Perched in his wheelchair like a commander surveying a battlefield, he barked out instructions every five seconds at the labourers.

“Not that branch!” he snapped. “That one gives the first bloom in spring! If you cut it, I swear—”

Shaurya stood beside him, arms folded, watching the entire chaos unfold with a mixture of patience and disbelief. He had to admit, he’d seen CEOs lose their minds in boardrooms, but none as dramatically as this man supervising tree trimming.

“They know what they’re doing,” Shaurya said, trying to soothe him for the tenth time. “You don’t have to yell at them like they’re defusing a bomb.”

Grandpa turned his head sharply. “This isn’t just any tree. It’s my Taj Mahal.”

Shaurya’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Yes,” Grandpa said proudly, his eyes misting over. “Just like Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal for his beloved Mumtaz… my wife planted this tree for us. With her own hands. Said it would give shade and sweetness to all our future generations. It bloomed with our love.”

His voice turned softer. “It was the first thing we planted together in this house. It’s sacred to me. A living memory.”

Shaurya said nothing for a moment. But something in his expression shifted. For the first time, the old man’s obsession with the mango tree didn’t seem eccentric. It made sense. It felt… honourable. It was love in its purest form.

“What you love,” Grandpa added quietly, “you protect. No matter what.”

Shaurya nodded slowly before his gaze was instinctively drawn to the first floor of Raichand Villa. He saw Nandini pacing in the balcony, phone pressed to her ear, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t her usual mischievous, sunshine self. She looked tense, her steps restless, her voice slightly raised, clearly trying to convince someone.

Investor call, he guessed.

He hardly knew much about her beyond what she let the world see: the smiles, the quick wit, the ability to charm a room and challenge him in the same breath. But right now, she was more than that. She looked focused. But also completely alone in that moment.

Grandpa followed Shaurya’s gaze and sighed. “I hope luck’s on her side this time.”

Shaurya looked back at him. “She’s trying for investors?”

Grandpa nodded. “Yes. For her startup. Organic beauty products. She’s brilliant with the formulations—made every one of them by hand. But the last investor pulled out just before signing. She didn’t even tell me for days.”

“Why?” Shaurya asked, genuinely surprised.

“Because she doesn’t want family money,” Grandpa said, with equal parts pride and sadness. “She wants to build her business herself. Says if it’s hers, she has to earn every piece of it.”

Shaurya’s throat tightened but then pride swelled in his chest. She hadn’t once complained. Not even hinted at the pressure she was under. And still, she’d been managing everything here—him, her grandfather, the house, her business without faltering.