So now, I just can’t eat with an audience. Whenever I do, I feel like everyone’s watching me, silently judging how I don’t deserve to eat so much. I know no one actually cares, but my brain won’t let me believe it.
“I’m done, Maa,” I say. But before she can respond, Rudraksh places two more puris on my plate, and I turn to him as I stare at him, wide-eyed.
“Eat,” he whispers. “And come to my office later.” Then, he announces, louder “I have some work. I’ll be in my office.”
When everyone finishes eating, Maa tells me there’s no need to clean up—the helpers will take care of it.
I walk up the staircase but stop halfway when I see Aryan and Siddhant heading down. I walk back to them and poke Siddhant on the shoulder. He turns around and passes me a smile.
“Hello, bhabhi ji,” he says. Aryan turns around too.
“I had a question,” I say, getting to the point.
“We’re at your service. How can we help?” Siddhant says, clearly enjoying the theatrics.
“I just wanted to ask… Why did you react that way at the dining table? The gasp, the look you exchanged—I didn’t understand.”
“Well, that… um…” Aryan hesitates, "Our minds were blown by the food you made." He exclaims.
I narrow my eyes, looking between them. “You’re lying. It’s okay if you don’t want to answer. I’ll leave.”
“Okay, fine,” Siddhant relents. I smile—they’re such softies.
“It’s just that… Raksh never eats greasy food. It was a surprise to see him gulping down everything so fast, with zero complaints.”
I stare at them, confused. Is that why he didn't say a word about my food? Maybe he didn't like it. But why doesn’t he eat oily food? I mean, I get it—it’s unhealthy, but once in a while should be fine, right?
I don’t ask them that, though. I think I’ll ask Rudraksh myself.
17
RUDRAKSH
I don’t understand how people mess up the simplest tasks. The hotel industry isn’t exactly forgiving, and if I keep finding errors like these, I might as well do everything myself. I’m going to fire someone today. I don’t want to, but every damn day these idiots make me question why I hired them in the first place.
The soft knock on the door of my office breaks the train of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I mutter loud enough, not looking up from the file. No one in my family knocks unless I specifically tell them not to come in during important meetings. It’s probably one of the staff.
“Rudraksh?” My ears perk up as I glance up, hearing a feminine voice. It'smywife. Shivani stands there, wearing a plain maroon saree. It’s simple, but on her—it looks divine.
“I think I told you not to knock,” I say as I get up and walk around the desk and lean against the front of it.
“No… you didn’t.” She stutters, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Siddhant said that. You didn’t say anything.” She reasons, and I nod in understanding.
Fair enough. That might actually be true. But it should be obvious. She’s my wife. She doesn’t need permission to walk into any room I’m in.
“Well then,” I straighten up and step toward her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m telling you now. You don’t have to knock, Shivani.”
I press a firm kiss to her forehead.
Her small hand rests against my chest, and she pushes me back. I look at her as surprise engulfs me. “Can I ask you a question?” she questions softly.
“You can ask me anything, anytime—except this question,” I reply, teasing.
She doesn’t react to my teasing, just shakes her head.Adorable. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. “Why don’t you eat oily food?” she asks.
