Page 8 of When Love Trespassed

Next Day

“At least finish the coffee before it gets cold,” she had said before bustling away in the kitchen.

She never overstepped—except for cooking him his daily meals, despite him repeatedly telling her not to.

She cooked afternoon lunches for him too, and on days he worked from home, she made sure to prepare an extra portion of his favourite palak dal.

She sometimes even kneaded fresh dough, just in case he “suddenly felt like making rotis at night,” which obviously, he never did.

Shaurya wasn’t used to being cared for. Not after the years of being alone in a world that only valued power and success.

And yet, Meera’s silent concern, the way she always made sure things were running smoothly in his house, was something he appreciated more than he would ever admit. She was caring, which was an emotion he rarely got from anyone.

He took another sip of his coffee, letting the warmth seep through him, when—

“SHAURYA AHUJA!”

Shaurya’s grip on his mug tightened as Grandpa’s voice boomed through the morning air like a war cry, echoing across the garden that separated his villa from the Raichand’s.

Not again.

Not today.

Exhaling sharply, he tried to ignore his voice and forced himself to stay calm, but the yelling only grew louder.

“SHAURYA AHUJA, COME OUT THIS INSTANT!”

Shaurya pressed his fingers to his temple, already regretting his decision of moving into this so-called ‘peaceful’ gated community.

Peace? What a joke. Keshav Raichand was impossible, and ignoring him wasn’t an option anymore.

“Let’s continue this later,” he said curtly to his business associate before disconnecting the call.

Placing his coffee mug down with more force than necessary, he pushed himself up, adjusted his steel-grey blazer, and stormed toward the door, fully prepared to shut down whatever nonsense awaited him.

The moment he stepped into the common garden area, Shaurya was greeted by a sight he should’ve expected but still found infuriating.

Grandpa stood fuming, arms crossed over his chest, his expression lined with irritation. Behind him, three gardeners in matching uniforms stood awkwardly, clearly unsure if they should just run away than be involved in this growing battlefield.

Shaurya barely held back a sigh.

“What is this?” Grandpa snapped, stepping forward, his eyes blazing.

Shaurya crossed his arms, unbothered. “You tell me, Mr. Raichand. I didn’t call you. You called me.”

Grandpa took one angry step forward, his boots crunching against the fallen mango leaves.

“Don’t act innocent, Ahuja. You know exactly why I called you here.”

Shaurya waved a hand lazily.

“So, why don’t we skip the dramatic buildup and get to the point? I have actual important things to handle.”

Keshav’s nostrils flared as he pointed towards the gardeners behind him.

“How dare you call professional gardening services to touch MY tree?!”

Shaurya blinked, recalling that he had, indeed, called them. But it seemed that instead of heading to Villa No. 11, they had directly landed at Raichand’s place, probably because the real problem stood on their side of the property.

Now, it all made sense.

“Yes, I called them,” he replied, exhaling sharply.

Grandpa looked ready to explode.

Shaurya continued casually, “It’s been days since you said you’d trim those branches, but you haven’t done a thing. So, I took matters into my own hands.”

Grandpa’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “How dare you?”

Before the argument could escalate, Nandini’s voice cut through the tension.

“Daadu! What’s going on?”

Shaurya turned his head just in time to see Nandini running toward them.

Her damp hair was still wrapped in a towel, loose strands peeking from beneath it.

She was dressed in a soft, pastel-coloured salwar suit, the fabric billowing effortlessly around her.

Shaurya’s steps faltered for just a fraction of a second.

He had never seen her in a salwar suit before.

It was… different. Cute .

Gone was the feisty woman in shorts and oversized T-shirts, the one who stormed around like she owned the world. Instead, she looked homely, delicate even… but no less striking. Almost… too pretty.

And he hated that he noticed, especially now, amidst the present tension. So, he forced his gaze back up before his thoughts could wander into dangerous territory.

She stopped beside her grandfather, slightly breathless. “Daadu, breathe, please.”

“Breathe?” Grandpa scoffed. “Do you know what he’s done? He sent his men to cut down our tree!”

Shaurya rubbed the back of his neck and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Correction—not the tree, just a few branches.”

Nandini’s gaze snapped to him, her honey-brown eyes narrowing with distrust.

“Oh, it’s one and the same. How could you do this without our permission?”

He exhaled, already regretting this conversation.

“It’s your tree, sure,” he said, “but if it’s your tree, then maybe try to keep it within your boundary instead of making it rain leaves and fruits into my pool!”

“Have you ever studied anything about nature at all?” she scoffed. “Do you even know how trees work? We can’t dictate when or where they drop their leaves and fruits. That’s like blaming the wind for blowing in the wrong direction!”

“It’s not about nature but about property lines, responsibility, and basic decency. Why should I be the one suffering because of your sacred tree?” he argued.

“Suffering?” she echoed in disbelief. “Oh yes, what a tragedy! brEAKING NEWS! The mighty Shaurya Ahuja, billionaire tycoon, a victim of a few fallen mango leaves!”

Shaurya fisted his hands and took a step closer, his towering presence more intimidating than she’d care to admit.

“You’re missing the point entirely,” he angrily muttered. “This is my home. My property. Why should I have to deal with your mess every day? I bought this villa to get some peace, not to constantly argue over a tree that isn’t even mine!”

Nandini crossed her arms. “And I suppose peace means cutting down everything that mildly inconveniences you?”

She took a bold step toward him, closing the space between them.

“You should’ve bought a house in a high-rise penthouse, far away from actual living, breathing things like trees.”

His gaze darkened. “Trust me, if I knew my neighbour would be this impossible, I would have.”

“Good,” she shot back. “I’ll start looking at one for you, to help you relocate. Happy?”

Shaurya exhaled harshly, knowing this argument was never-ending.

“No,” he gritted out, “I’ll be happy if you stick to your words. Your grandfather had said he would look into this issue about trimming the branches.”

“And we were going to handle it,” Nandini replied. “But you had no right to call these people!”

Shaurya’s patience finally snapped.

“Fine. I’ll send them back.”

She and Grandpa both looked victorious for a second, but Shaurya wasn’t done. His gaze locked onto hers, his finger pointing straight at her.

“You want to keep your tree? Then keep it. But hear me loud and clear, Miss Raichand. If even ONE single leaf or fruit falls into my property again—especially my pool—I’ll call these guys back. With a legal notice this time.”

Her fists clenched, but before she could respond, he had already turned on his heel, striding back to his villa without another word.

From behind, Grandpa’s angry voice rang out.

“Do whatever pleases you! Even if you bring the entire court here, I am NOT letting you touch my tree.”

Nandini sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Daadu, please don’t raise your blood pressure over him.”

“You heard that?” Grandpa muttered to Nandini. “He is preparing for war, and you don’t want me to react?”

“Daadu, we’ll see what to do. But right now, please calm down.”

Grandpa scoffed, shaking his head. “I won’t leave this man if he touches my tree.”

With that, he marched back to his villa, commanding the three men to leave at once.

Nandini bit her lip, staring at Shaurya’s retreating figure. Now how was she supposed to ensure not even a single leaf or fruit ended up in his pool every day? Huh!

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

Two days Later

Sundays were meant for relaxation, for peace, for the kind of lazy afternoons where the world outside could fade away into the background.

At least, that was Nandini Raichand’s plan as she sat parallelly over the thick railing of her bedroom balcony on the first floor, her back comfortably resting against a plush pillow propped against the edge of the balcony wall.

Her legs were stretched out flat over the wide railing, crossed at the ankles, while one hand lazily held the open romance novel resting on her lap.

The gentle afternoon breeze ruffled her loose curls, carrying with it the faint scent of mango blossoms from the towering tree beside her. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers absently flipping through the pages as she lost herself in the world of fictional romance.

The heroine had just confessed her love for the brooding, impossible, dangerously attractive hero. Nandini sighed dramatically. Why were fictional men so irresistible? Unlike a certain real-life grump next door, who constantly found new ways to ruin her peace.

Speaking of which, her gaze drifted toward Villa No. 11, to the pristine blue pool glistening in the afternoon sun.

It had been two days.

Two whole days since Shaurya Ahuja had delivered his dramatic warning about the mango tree.

And surprisingly, despite a few stray leaves finding their way into his beloved pool, he hadn’t said a word since then. Maybe he wasn’t as arrogant as everyone claimed. Either he had finally learned to live with it… or he was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Who knew?

She closed her book, resting it in her lap as she stretched lazily. It was a perfect day—no fights, no interruptions, no stormy-eyed neighbours glowering at her like she had personally offended his existence.