Mishti reaches home at ten at night, having spent as much time with her brother as much as she could. She hadn't been able to take a leave when Samrat’s mother had come home, and so the man in question had gladly granted her one today. This meant that she hadn’t cooked any meal today except for making some bluberry topped oatmeal for Samrat, and some toasts.

She just hopes Vivek had cooked his boss the food to his liking today just as he had promised, -- “ You have nothing to worry about, I know how to take care of sir.”

Mishti was also glad that the valet was talking to her finally, or well, picking fights with her just like before, and not looking at her with hawk eyes. It may be the effect of talking to Aisha or might simply mean that the man trusts her, enough to know that she’d never hurt Samrat intentionally.

Though that doesn’t mean she trusts him entirely. She needs to know what he cooked today, and if it was better than hers or not.

She's sure it is the latter of the two. Huh.

With that goal in mind, Mishti straight up goes to the kitchen, washing her hands before opening up the lid to the pressure cooker. 

The contents of the utensil surprise her to no end because there she finds fragrant and colourful masala rice resting in the cooker.

She then takes off the lid of the second utensil only to find Shahi paneer in it. Yet again Indian. But Samrat doesn’t eat Indian, at least not until they are desserts.

Did he eat it today? Was he lying to her all this time about not liking Indian food? He must be, who in their right mind doesn’t like Indian dishes.

Pouting, Mishti climbs the steps to her room, freshening up in quick minutes and changing up into comfy clothes. It is only when her stomach grumbles, and she thinks of going into the kitchen to taste some of her rival’s food – does she hear it; noises, familiar noises of whimpers coming from Samrat’s room. 

Is it the nightmares again?

Mishti is quick to go to the source only stopping when she’s at his door. 

Should she go inside? 

She did last time and it helped him, so why not?

With that thought in mind, Mishti bursts open through the door of the room, no knock whatsoever. 

Safe to say, the view gave Mishti a whiplash as well as the person occupying the room.

“Mishti?” Samrat voices out surprised, while Mishti doesn’t have any voice left to say anything because the man that she had been thinking was busy dreaming and seeing nightmares is sitting on his bed wide awake in his fully lighted room, eyes widened in shock after witnessing his personal chef barging into his room in the middle of the night.

Oh God, what will he think now? 

“What are you doing here?” Samrat asks in a calm voice, schooling his surprise though just then a small whimper follows his words, his hands going to clutch at his stomach.

“Are you – are you ok?” Mishti can’t help but ask despite herself and the man nods. 

“Just a stomachache.” He says dismissively, and once again focuses his gaze on her. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks again and Mishti cringes inwardly, averting her gaze to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just burst through the door like this but…” she trails off trying to find apt words to explain the situation.

“But?” Samrat presses, the frown leaving his face and a slightly amused look replacing it. 

“Ithoughtyouwerehavingamightmaresoijustcametocheckuponyou!” Mishti says, her eyes scrunched shut, they only open when she hears the man letting out a huff, shaking his head exasperatedly, the amusement still very much present in his eyes. 

“Wow, Eminem. Slow down, would you? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have superhuman abilities. So…” he scoffs, teasingly while Mishti pouts. 

“I said that I thought you were having a nightmare so… I just came to check up on you.” She huffs, feeling a bit stupid standing in front of him like that, and so she adds, “But since you’re fine and all, I’ll go. Goodnight.” She says but just as she turns around to walk out of the room, an impulsive ‘Wait!’ barrels through her ears, making her stop in her steps. 

“What?” she turns around, the pout still very much there on her face. 

“That was – that was nice of you,” Samrat says, his eyes open wide and sincere, the hesitance in the words sending back any trace of dejection from her face. She bites back a smile. 

“When did you come back?” the question comes next and Mishti is barely able to hide her surprise. 

“Just now.” She answers with a quiet voice. 

Samrat looks at the clock that is hanged on the wall in front of him, his brows inviting a furrow between them. “But it’s so late.”

“I was with my brother.” 

He doesn’t say anything anymore, neither does Mishti, the silence growing a little awkward. It is only when a small whimper yet again escapes Samrat’s mouth, his hands coming to clutch his tummy, does Mishti says, “Is the stomachache bad? Do you want to have medi –”

A sound cuts off her words, though it doesn’t come out of Samrat’s mouth, it does from his grumbling stomach, making Samrat’s gaze fall on it comically, as well as hers.

“You didn't eat dinner, did you?” Mishti asks with a suspicious look on her face while the man in front of her does everything to avoid her gaze.

“I – I wasn't hungry.”

“What about lunch?” 

He shrugs, getting up from his bed and going around her to his closet to take out what looks like a box of medicines.
“Don’t eat them. This stomachache is clearly because of hunger. Why didn't you eat the food? Is it because it was Indian?” Mishti asks, an underlying incredulity evident in her tone.

But when the man turns towards her with an almost melancholic sigh, keeping aside the medicine box as he gulps, Mishti realises that it may not be just a matter of preference.

“Vivek didn’t know what else to make, he had asked me before preparing it. I – I thought I'd be able to eat it today. I couldn’t.” Samrat says, more than just a stomach-ache induced frown crawling up his temple.

“Why – why couldn't you?” Mishti asks, realising that Samrat's animosity with Indian food indeed goes deeper than what she had thought it to be.

Samrat clicks his tongue, giving her a nonchalant shake of his head that she could tell took a lot of effort to conjure. “Bad memories and all that.”

Mishti's heart sinks to her stomach.

She should have realised that it must have to do something with his past, otherwise, such a reasonable man like him wouldn't create a fuss just because something is not of his preferred cuisine.

Mishti nods but doesn't back away. Not when there is one kind of ache that she can help in. “Come on, I'll make you something to eat. Whatever you'd like.” The moment she says that Samrat looks at her like she has grown two heads.

“What? No!” He says as if it's the most absurd thing in the world that she could offer. “Why would I make you work so late at night? It's almost eleven. Just go and sleep or something.” Samrat says dismissively, and Mishti would have cooed on the fact that he cares for her had he not been trying to school how his face scrunches up in pain from an empty stomach. He needs to care more for himself right now.

“No, you need to come with me downstairs, I'm going to make you something.” She says adamantly.

“I'm not coming.” He mimics the tone.

“Yes, you are. Stop being so stubborn.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Mishti!”

“Samrat!”

He shuts up at that, looking at Mishti with a baffled expression, eyes growing wide, not seeming on returning to their normal size anytime soon, and considering how Mishti just stands there, cheeks flushed and dumbfounded she too just realises what she had addressed him as.

“I’m sorry –”

“Let's go. I'm hungry.” Samrat cuts her apology short, walking out of the room, while Mishti's left standing there baffled, wondering if she had just imagined the giddy smile on her employer's face.

She must have.

*

Mishti makes Samrat the classic fettuccine alfredo that he was too hesitant to ask for, but now that it is kept in front of him all plated, he doesn’t try to school the contentment that graces his features. 

“Thank you!” he says, and Mishti could swear this is the most excited 'thank you' that she has ever heard from the man, it makes him resemble a child. However, just as he’s about to dig in, he pauses, yet again looking at her with wide innocent eyes. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?”  The question comes, while Mishti struggles to answer.

“H-Here?” she asks. 

“Yeah.” Samrat answers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It surprises Mishti. Since the day Vivek had returned, Mishti hadn’t eaten at the same table as Samrat, and it wasn’t like that she was dying to do so. Earlier it had happened because of her injury and partly because of Samrat’s insistence but that’s fine. She doesn’t want to disrupt the decorum of the house or do something that the rest of the staff won’t appreciate. Though now there is no one in the house except for her, Samrat and his sleeping valet but neither is there any injury on her hand. So of course, the question comes as a shock to her.

“I thought it was a one-time thing,” Mishti says stupidly, unable to separate the astonishment from her voice. 

Samrat’s face visibly softens at that as he keeps the fork down from his hand, solely focusing on the girl. “It’s because of the rest of the staff, Mishti, the reason that I didn’t ask you to join me through a meal again.”  He explains patiently.

“They gossip about anything and everything. I …” he hesitates for a moment before letting a small smile grace his features, “I didn’t want that to happen to you. Though I do admit that it gets a bit lonely eating a meal every day alone, I’d love nothing more than some company.” Samrat says the sincere words that reach Mishti's ears are enough to make her feel good, a bright smile crawling up his face. 

This time when Samrat opens up his mouth to say something, Mishti interrupts him. “I’ll not stop smiling,” she says, and the man raises his hands in surrender, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

“I wasn’t going to tell that to you. Now would you bring some food for yourself?” he asks and Mishti hums.

“Would you mind if I eat some of …” she gestures towards the kitchen, a nervous smile on her face. “That shahi paneer looks so tempting, and it’s been weeks since I’ve had Indian, it’s my favourite.” She mumbles, her puppy eyes unintentionally overcoming her face. 

Samrat nods instantly. “Of course, don’t let me keep you from eating it. Vivek’s a good cook. Not to forget the dish used to be my favourite too…. once. It’s just difficult to swallow it down now.” He mumbles the last few words in his mouth, but Mishti hears it crystal clear, her excitement dulling. It’s then that Samrat seems to break out of is his reverie, giving her a forced smile. “Go….” He insists. 

Mishti shakes her head. “On a second thought, I’ll just have the pasta. You won’t mind sharing it, would you?”

The bright smile that she gets in response is enough of an answer.