Page 30 of When Love Trespassed

Raichand Villa - Two Days Later

It was pizza party day—the one Nandini had quietly looked forward to all week, even if she pretended otherwise, and the one her friends were far too excited about. The buzz of laughter and excited chatter was only moments away, but for now, she was in her grandfather’s room, helping him get ready.

Grandpa sat on the edge of the bed, holding out his kurta while Nandini slowly slipped it over his arms. Then, she gently helped him settle back against the pillows.

“You don’t have to listen to him, you know,” he suddenly said.

Nandini paused, a brow raised. “Listen to whom?”

“Mr. Grump. Who else?” He scowled. “He said no extra cheese on my pizza today. Can you imagine that? What kind of cruel punishment is that? A pizza without extra cheese is just... sad bread.”

Nandini chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll put extra cheese on yours, Daadu. Promise. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he muttered, but a smug grin gave him away.

As she helped him into his wheelchair, Grandpa’s curiosity suddenly sparked. “So, what pizzas have you ordered, hmm? I hope you didn’t get any of those boring veggie ones.”

Nandini smiled, adjusting the blanket over his legs. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the good stuff. Margherita, tandoori paneer, spicy jalapeno and corn, farmhouse, chicken pepperoni… and yes, some of them are cheese bursts.”

His eyes widened. “Cheese bursts? Then I’m only having that tonight. That’s non-negotiable.”

Nandini gave him a sly look. “And I suppose we’re keeping that little detail between us and not informing the health inspector next door?”

Grandpa chuckled and gave her a subtle nod of approval, clearly delighted by this tiny rebellion. Then his tone shifted, a bit more thoughtful.

“I’ll admit... I thought he’d give up. I thought my tantrums would scare him off, and Shaurya would stop coming after a couple of days.”

Nandini zipped her lips. That thought had crossed her mind too, more than once. But he hadn’t left.

“All week,” Grandpa continued, shaking his head as if surprised, “he’s been here. Like a shadow. An annoyingly persistent one at that. Reading newspapers, bringing his exercise plans, giving those awful healthy snack suggestions...”

She laughed quietly, adjusting his shawl.

“But the thing is...” he went on, with the tone of someone reluctantly giving credit where it was due, “this stupid exercise regime of his... it might actually be working. I can feel a difference. My leg’s not throbbing as much anymore.”

“I also heard you told Lakshmi Aunty that he gives a pretty decent arm massage,” she teased.

Grandpa made a face and waved his hand dismissively. “That’s between me and Lakshmi. And maybe... he still thinks he’s responsible for my fall. I never exactly corrected that bit.”

“You mean the lie you spun to get sympathy and attention?” she said, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, unapologetic.

Once she wheeled him out of the room and down the hallway, he looked towards the garden. “Take me to the mango tree,” he said suddenly. “Let me sit there a while before the house gets filled with loud youngsters.”

Without a word, she rolled him out to the verandah, guiding him gently over the threshold and onto the stone pathway that led to the old mango tree. It stood tall and wild, its branches stretching into the evening sky like an aging monarch.

She helped him settle beneath it, adjusting his cushion, and was about to head back when he caught her hand.

“Don’t forget my cheese burst pizza,” he reminded, his eyes filled with joy.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze and then a mock salute. “On it, sir.”

As she walked back towards the villa, the doorbell rang. Her friends had started to arrive. The laughter she’d missed in the house was about to return.

Meanwhile, Grandpa sat under the tree, looking at the tangled branches above him. The ground around him was strewn with fallen leaves and half-ripened mangoes, and though he would never admit it aloud, the neighbour had a point. It was a bit much.

He sighed reluctantly and asked Lakshmi to bring his phone. When she returned with it, he dialled a familiar number.

“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 reserved for 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 for his fall too.”

Grandpa scoffed. “Mishra doesn’t climb trees. 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… your words, 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.

And oddly enough… he liked it more than he cared to admit.