Mishti knows that yesterday’s events have taken a toll on her when she finds herself unable to get up from bed, her head getting dizzy as she tries to sit up, falling back on the pillow with a soft thud.

Her alarm rings, signalling her to get up and make the breakfast for her boss but her body doesn’t let her do it, she fleetingly can only look at the time on her phone flashing 9:00 am before she passes out on her bed, not able to distinguish if the dizzy spell is from physical or mental exhaustion. 

On the other hand, Samrat anxiously steps out of his room, taking one step forward and two steps back. He is nervous for some reason, had been thinking all night. He feels like Mishti had wanted to say something else to him yesterday, something she kept to herself. He wants to hear her say it, longs to go and quickly find himself in the company of the girl who has been occupying most part of his time either busy running through his thoughts or the kitchen.

Not for the first time, but he is thankful for his valet who quickly climbs up the stairs to bring the coffee to him, Samrat being in desperate need of a shot of caffeine before going to face the girl in question. 

“Your coffee, sir.”

Vivek hands him his beverage that he takes cautiously, smiling at him in return, something that he finds himself doing frequently these days. He doesn’t think he minds that, neither do the people surrounding him.

Samrat frowns as soon as he takes the first sip of the coffee. “Who made this?” he asks while his valet guiltily bows his head. 

Samrat’s frown deepens. “You did?” Vivek nods.

“Why? Where is Mishti?” he asks, an unprecedented fear seeping into his voice afraid that Mishti might have done something extreme as leaving this place after what he had said to her yesterday. But they had solved it, hadn't they?

But he realises that she hasn't been in her essence for the past few days, always seeming detached. He'd know, he has spent days being worried for her.

“She’s not well, sir. She has a high fever. I told her I’d escort her to the doctor, but she didn’t – Sir? Where are you …. your coffee –”

Samrat doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence, putting the cup of coffee aside and rushing downstairs to the girl’s room, opening the door to which he indeed finds Vivek’s words to be true.

Surely enough, Mishti is laying there on her bed eyes closed and lips void of blood, face pale.

Samrat doesn’t consult her when he calls up his doctor telling him to reach his house as soon as possible if he wants to save his job. And once he's done politely inviting him, he makes his way into the girl's room, going and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Mishti?” He says softly and sees as her eyes flutter open, widening slightly as she takes in his sight.

Samrat doesn't like that look on her face. He doesn't want her to be afraid of him or get surprised like this whenever he comes in front of her.

He wonders what he can do to make her comfortable.

“Don't worry, yeah? It's only me.” He says gently, trying to coax the girl into calming down, his hand indecisively floating in the air, itching to reach out and press a comforting hand against hers but is forced to take back his hand when Mishti's eyes fully open, her hands supporting her as she sits back on the bed.

“S-Sorry, I couldn't get up to make your breakfast....” The girl confesses tiredly, making Samrat roll his eyes.

What does the Mishti think he is; a man with no feelings?

Does she really think that he'll make her work in this condition?

“Do you actually think that I'll make you work in this condition? Is that what you think about me?” He voices his thoughts out loud and doesn't believe his eyes when the girl in this condition too has the strength to let roll her eyes, albeit fondly.

“I thought I was pretty clear yesterday about what I think about you.” She mumbles in her mouth, but Samrat hears it loud and clear.

He smiles to himself.

“Mishti...I –” and just as he goes to reply, a knock on the door cuts off his efforts in the form of the doctor who walks in the room with urgency in his steps, while Mishti squints his eyes at Samrat warily, probably surprised to see the man.

“Who’s the patient?”

Mishti and Samrat collectively rolls their eyes at the stupid question, Samrat taking his time standing up from the chair and backing away, eyes on Mishti on the while.

“Here is your patient.” He gestures, giving the man a tight-lipped smile who looks afraid of it, to say the least.

Samrat can't find it in himself to go to the office that day.

*

“Did you put something in his food?” Vivek blurts through Mishti’s room, eyes wide, all breathless. 

Mishti’s eyes open at the sudden intrusion, an involuntary moan falling out of her lips as she tries to sit up, and comprehend the words spoken to her.

“What?”

“Did you put something in sir’s food?” Vivek asks again with as much urgency and Mishti lets out an exhausted sigh.

“We were over this, Vivek, I told you I don’t want to hurt him –”

Vivek shakes his head, face panicked. “It’s not about that. He is in the kitchen …. making food …. for you. That – That isn’t normal!” he finally reveals with a high-pitched voice and the retort that Mishti had been preparing dies in her mouth, her entire face flushing red.

“Wh-what?” she asks but doesn’t get the chance to hear the answer because next thing she knows the man in question is walking through the door, a tray clutched in his hand and eyes stuck on the food, careful of not letting it spill. 

“Vivek, a little help please.” He says and gestures his valet to hold the tray for him who follows the instruction with a face that looks as if he has just seen a ghost, or maybe Aisha has married someone else, or…something absurd like that, while Samrat busies himself in situating himself in front of her on the edge of her bed, gesturing Vivek to hand him back the tray who does the action, yet again dumbstruck.

Mishti can’t say she has a very different reaction even if she has seen the man cooking once before and eating with him on the same table because this is different. That day he had cooked for himself and her when there was no one to witness the action but today, as going by Vivek’s words, he has made the food solely for her and oh god, is he trying to feed her with his hands?

“I – I can eat by myself –” Mishti says, holding on to the spoon that is clutched in his hand, her gaze flitting between Vivek’s shocked face and the soup filled bowl.

Samrat seemingly noting her dilemma turns to Vivek, giving him what looks like a genuine smile. “Would you like to have some?” he asks him, but the valet doesn’t seem in a condition to answer the ghost, instead just shakes his head vigorously before rushing out of the room with haphazard, “I’ll clothes your iron and lint off the brush!” 

Samrat lets out an amused chuckle listening to the jumbled words, shaking his head before averting his attention to Mishti yet again. He raises his brows smugly, lips curling into a knowing smile.

“Now will you eat it?” he asks but doesn’t give Mishti the time to reply before bringing the spoon to her lips, as she drinks the flavourful soup. 

The way his gaze concentrates on filling up the spoon, resting it in the air for a few seconds before nudging it against her lips, makes Mishti incapable of protesting the turns that follow, drinking the soup obediently, observing him all the while. 

If someone had told her that years down the road she’ll be sitting like this getting fed by a man that she met on accident four years ago, seeming way out of her league both in wealth and emotions, she would have laughed in the person’s face, knowing that her fate never really had such pleasures written for her, but now that she is experiencing that…. Yeah, she thinks maybe her destiny isn’t that opposed to seeing her smile, or shying as of now.

“You’ve got something there.”

Suddenly the incoming bite is left hanging in the air as Samrat gestures to her lips with his brows, putting the spoon back in the bowl. 

Fully knowing and having witnessed in the hundreds of Bollywood movies, Mishti knows what happens now and so without a second thought, she scrunches her eye shut, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest she waits for Samrat to wipe up whatever is there on her lips. Though when the action doesn’t happen until a few seconds more, Mishti with a confused frown opens her eyes just to find the man staring at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curled up into a smirk.

“What? I am chivalrous but not to that extent. Do it yourself.” He says, a smirk gracing his lips, making Mishti’s jaw drop, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. However, just as she goes to quickly wipe up the residue by the back of her hand, another hand comes in the way, pushing away hers, as Samrat huffs out another laugh, looking at her intensely. “I’m just kidding, I am not a fool enough to let this chance – ” he says as his thumb brushes against her lower lip, gently going back and forth with her until the supposed crumb is off it, “– go.” 

His thumb stays there as her gaze locks with his, too hesitant to maintain it confidently but afraid of breaking it at the same time. 

Then he’s gulping, his gaze losing their confidence just like hers, a sweet nervousness in them. “Mishti, I –”

Samrat starts in a hesitant voice and is yet again interupted, this time by Mishti’s phone ringing, volume so loud that it makes both the individuals jump, their gazes quickly separating from each other’s, Samrat clearing his throat and Mishti backing away on her bed. 

“I’ll – I’ll take my leave. Take care, yeah? And finish that.” He says gesturing to the soup, already standing up, and even if it is half-heartedly that Mishti lets him go, she knows that she has her brother to answer to who hopefully isn’t as mad at her as he had been yesterday. 

Mishti nods, releasing a breath when Samrat steps out of the room, closing the door behind him not before giving her one last glance that Mishti answers with a small smile.

“Hello, Bhai?”