Mishti’s going to do it today.

She is going to steal the vase, though this time she is not alone in this task, someone else is helping her, helping her in not letting Samrat get hurt.

Just like she had helped before.

While Vivek refuses to physically be part of any type of theft, he is doing his best trying to keep his mouth shut like he’s been doing since morning when Mishti had carefully placed the vase in Aisha’s hands to get its replica made in an antique shop, send it to the agency in Mishti’s name, break it as soon as the courier reaches the place and bring back the original piece to her.

The difficult task, however, is to keep Samrat distracted enough during his breakfast as the skillfully observant man keeps on asking her if she feels that something is missing in the living room.

It’s a miracle that he hasn’t zeroed down on the missing thing being his treasured vase.

“Of course, n-not, everything’s the same. Are you – are you done with the meal?” Mishti asks hurriedly, her gaze flitting to the empty table, her ear busy hearing the static that comes from the other side of the line where Aisha is currently updating her with everything she does.

Samrat pauses feeding himself the spoonful of baked oats that he was relishing till now. He looks at Mishti confused. “I’ve just sat down for the meal, why would I be done so soon?” he asks, an underline whine in his voice that makes Mishti avert her attention and focus fully on him.

She bites back an amused smile. 

“My bad, I’ll let you have your breakfast in peace. Take as much time as you want, ok?” she says sweetly to which the man levels her with a slightly suspicious look, but gradually waves it off with a smile that Mishti still has a problem in getting used to, making her heart almost skip a beat.

Stupid organ!

It’s then Mishti sees it. His crooked tie. It easily sidetracks her from the task in hand as well as gives her a chance to distract the man in question.

“Your tie…” she prompts dazedly, gaze fixed on the accessory.

Samrat is yet again forced to halt his breakfast. “Huh?”

It’s then that Mishti looks him in the eyes. “Your tie is crooked, should I fix it for you?” she asks and Samrat’s gaze instantly falls to the object in question.

His tie indeed is crooked, and it’s not a task that can’t be done on his own. Still, the word that leaves his mouth is “S-Sure,” the spoon completely dropping from his hand. 

Mishti nods, hesitantly stepping closer to him, a hint of lemon wafting through her nose that she belatedly realizes is his scent. The thought makes her gulp audibly, her hands taking more time to fix the tie than they should. 

“I have given the vase in the shop for its replica to be made. The original almost slipped from my hands.” Aisha says from the other side of the phone, and eyes wide, Mishti reacts with the first thing that comes into her hands. The tie.

“What!”

“Mishti!”

Both the boss and employee shriek at the same time, Mishti’s attention flitting from Aisha’s voice to the sight in front of her. The sight of her strangling her boss with his tie. 

“Oh, God!” She immediately loosens the tie from the man’s neck, looking at her with an equally shocked look as he levels her with. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise – I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so –” Misti frets but gets interrupted when Samrat’s hand comes to envelop around her own. 

“Relax.” He lets out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes fondly. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me. You can’t.” The gentleness in his voice and the trust in his eyes makes Mishti avert her gaze, gulping guiltily.

“I don’t want to….” She mumbles in her mouth before getting back to the tie, her hand still covered by Samrat’s. For reason unknown (or maybe not so unknown anymore) she doesn’t want to shrug it off or remind the man to do so.

Samrat does so nonetheless when he traces her gaze, letting his hand instantly release hers, punctuated with a clearance of his throat, making Mishti immediately miss the warmth of the contact.

“It’s done.” She prompts, not looking him up in the eyes, jumping back when she acknowledges the distance or the lack of it between them. 

Samrat too seems to come out of a momentary trance, his fingers brushing over the recently fixed accessory. 

“Th-Thanks.” He stutters for the second time today and Mishti notes while he goes back to his breakfast, finishing it quickly. “I’ll be going now.”

Mishti nods.

“Even though fixing sir’s tie and all is my job, I’ll let you get away with it this time, just because it was a good idea,” Vivek says coming by her side once Samrat is gone. 

“Thanks.” Mishti huffs out a chuckle, her gaze landing at the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her lips. 

“It was a good idea.” 

*

Samrat comes back home with a woman; a woman hanging off his arm looking drunk off her senses. Her hair looks like a mess, while her blazer threatens to fall off her shoulder. 

Mishti takes in the sight, shocked, and Vivek does too from where he had opened up the door. 

Samrat on the other hand looks exhausted and exasperated, to say the least, rolling his eyes when the woman lets out a whine. 

“Vivek, prepare a room for her. She’ll be staying here tonight.” The words have Mishti’s eyes widening, her hands stilling from where they were previously engaged in plating the man’s food.

It’s then that his gaze falls on her but instead of giving her a small smile like he does every day when he comes back home, Samrat’s gaze hardens as it lands on the crockery spread on the dining table.

Mishti notices.

“I’ll not be having dinner now; you can take it back. Also, make a glass of lemon water for her. Vivek will get it from you in a few seconds.” He says – no – instructs like her boss that he is like he used to when she had first come to the place, voice so unbothered and emotionless. 

It makes Mishti’s heart clench. 

Samrat doesn’t say anything anymore and helps the woman to climb stairs to the guest room above, his hand encircled around her waist. 

“It’s not good, why has she come back?”

Mishti hears Vivek muttering as he descends the stairs, walking towards her to fetch the glass of water. 

“Who is she?” she can’t help but ask, the woman’s face looking familiar but not enough to point out her name. 

“How can’t you know that you fool? As someone who claims to like sir –”

“Can you just answe –”

“– you should know that she is his ex-wife, Sakshi.”

“What?” Mishti yet again finds herself dumbfounded, mouth gaping and heart aching.

“W-Wife?” she stutters out and Vivek sighs, nodding.

“Don’t know why she is back. The last time she was in this house, everything had gone downhill. She had –” Vivek grumbles but is cut off short when he hears Samrat asking for the water. 

“Coming, sir.” He calls back, snatching the glass of water from Mishti and running up the stairs.

Samrat comes down the stairs after an hour, the clock flashing eleven, while Mishti sits wide awake on the couch, not having the courage to climb the stairs to her room and see something that she isn’t supposed to see, something that isn’t good for her heart.

“I’ll have my dinner now.” He announces, establishing his presence making Mishti jump awake from her train of thoughts, eyes scanning the man’s dishevelled presence.

She nods. “Ok, sir.” She says and puts down her phone in favour of making way to the kitchen, however, what she doesn’t expect is to get stopped in her way…by a hand holding her wrist.

Samrat’s hand holding Mishti’s wrist.

He’s frowning when she turns to look at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” he asks with an underlying anger in his voice, having the same effect on Mishti in addition to the events that have been happening since past few hours.

Mishti snatches back her hand, levelling the man with a glare of her own. “You are giving me instructions, sir, don’t expect me to call you by anything else other than what any employee should.” 

Samrat gulps as he listens to those words, his temple losing the frown as the implication dawns on him. 

“I – I didn’t mean to, ok? I didn’t even realise that I was doing that. But I’m really disturbed right now –” he starts giving excuses that Mishti doesn’t want to hear. For some reason, she is losing all her patience today.

“I don’t care,” she says, trying to get away.

“Well, you should then. You should care for me!” The man yells back, yet again stopping holding her by her hand and pulling her back so that she is standing face to face with him. 

His gaze has that vulnerability in it that he had possessed all those years ago, his eyes glimmer with a melancholic sheen and all she can see in his face is hurt. 

Mishti is quick to realize her mistake, cursing herself internally for being such a stuck up and hurting the man that she had promised never to hurt. 

A wailing tear rolls down the man’s eyes as he blinks rapidly trying to stop the others that threaten to follow it. Mishti’s eyes soften as she stares at him, her hand hesitantly reaching out to wipe the tear rolling down his cheek, brushing it away gently with her thumb. 

She gulps thickly. “I’m sorry. I – I didn’t mean to…. I was just –” Jealous. She doesn’t say.

“I do care.” Mishti averts her gaze, not wanting to show that part herself to the man which she’d be unable to take back. She quickly takes back her hand, leaving the man to inhale a stuttering breath himself, taking a step away from her. 

“Neither did I. I didn't mean to.” This time it’s Samrat who averts his gaze, taking another step back until the back on his knees touch the couch and he sits on it, shaking his head. 

“It’s as if I’m back to all those years ago, I can’t understand anything. I d-don’t want to remember that time.” He mumbles distraughtly. Making Mishti even more guilty for paining his heart at a time like this. 

“If you want to tell me anything, I’m here to listen.” She states, braving herself for the sake of them both, putting a shaky hand on his shoulder. 

He doesn’t respond.

“Samrat,” she murmurs and the man in question looks up at her with wide, sad eyes. Mishti blinks back her tears, resisting the urge to wipe away his, once again. “Tell me.” 

*

“Tara!” 

“Tara!” 

Everyone shouts, searching in the different corners of the house, surrounding streets and even the nearby hospital but they aren’t able to find the girl. Her switched off phone makes it impossible for them to track her whereabouts, worrying them to no limits.

Everyone is distraught and afraid lest Tara impulsively does something to the woman, now that she has got to know her parents’ murderer, and find herself behind the bars forever. They don’t want that to happen. While Raghav can’t even fear that fact. His heart is mocking him for being a coward for the second time in his life, for not telling the girl how he feels about her. He isn’t sure if he’ll get another chance.

He just hopes that he does.