“Seems that all hope isn’t lost yet. Delhi high court has surfaced with the decision of equipping Vineeta Agnihotri, wife of the late businessman, Dayanand Agnihotri, with fourteen years prison sentence, punishing her for her illicit actions; taking bribes, illegal arrests and shooting a civilian in broad daylight. It is believed that ….”

The news runs in the background, echoing through the house in Sakshi’s voice as Mishti manoeuvres through the kitchen, humming an unknown tune, all the while stirring up the batter for making some yummy Jalebis.

Oh, how she misses eating them.

Besides her stands Samrat Agnihotri who isn’t quite able to make swirls of the batter in the piping hot oil, looking at the disintegrated jalebis remorsefully.

“I can’t do it!” he complains, stomping his feet like a child, making Mishti stifle a smile.

“It’s ok, leave it to me.”

“No, you aren’t my chef anymore. No one has been since you left. Besides, I am a good cook as I have proven many times. It's just not happening right now.” Samrat explains.

Mishti scoffs. 

Samrat looks at her, affronted. “Was that a scoff?”

Mishti spares a look at him and gives him a fake smile. “Decode that yourself, Samrat sir.” 

She grins and misses the way Samrat switches off the stove, narrowing his eyes at her before encircling her waist with his arms and picking her few inches off the ground, the impact making the spoon in her hand drop in the batter bowl.

“Hey! What are you doing! Put me down.” She whines but the man doesn’t listen, only stopping when they stand in front of the couch, dropping her unceremoniously on the soft surface.

Mishti graces him with a glare.

It is Samrat’s turn to scoff.

“Why would you do that?” 

Samrat smirks. “I don’t know, Mishti. Decode that yourself.” He says, sitting down beside her, his hand going around her to grab the remote. 

That leaves Mishti with only one option.

“Hey! Give it back.” Samrat says when Mishti takes the remote from his hand in one swift sweep, browsing through the channels with a smug face.

“Give it, I’m warning you.” The threat has Mishti turning her face to look at Samrat, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh yeah? Try me.” She only has to say those words before Samrat scoots closer to her, a not-so-innocent smirk crawls up his lips as the attack begins, his fingers crawl up her tummy, tickling her and she’s unable to stifle the mix of shriek and laugh, squirming away from the incessant attack of the fingers. 

“Samrat – Stop! Ha-ha, stop!” she giggles, trying to get a hold of the hands that don’t seem to stop anytime soon, the T.V. remote forgotten.

The culprit laughs as well. “Why stop? You consented to this.” He grins, making his way up to her waist, a particular tickle making her laugh like nothing else, falling back onto the couch taking her tormenter with her, squirming and yet unable to stifle the giggle that escapes her mouth one after the other.

Though when she sees Samrat on top of her, his smiling face isn’t able to stop her mind from taking her to the day she was stuck in the same situation, and it wasn’t laughter that she was shrieking with. 

Mishti immediately stops smiling, her body stilling and a lone chuckle escapes Samrat mouth before it comes to a sudden stop as well, realising the change. Though he doesn’t make any effort to move away from her, instead lets his hand reach out to her face, cupping it hesitantly.

When Mishti doesn’t flinch back from the touch, he relaxes.  “It’s alright, love. It’s only me.” Samrat says gently, stroking her cheek until her gaze falls on him who looks at her like she is the only thing that matters in the world. 

She hides her face in his chest and lets him manoeuvre them into sitting up and changing their position until he is stationed between the arm of the couch and its back and she’s between his arms, his hands holding her tightly against him.

“Don’t be scared, Mishti. I’d not let anything happen to you. Never again. Trust me.”

And trust Mishti does, with her whole life she does and tries to convey the same by tightening her hold around his neck.

“I do.” She mumbles into his neck and feels him press a smile into her shoulder.

He pulls away from her at that, and Mishti does too. Reluctantly. Sitting back in the space created between his legs, weight leaning on him. 

He gives her a soft smile which she cherishes with her whole heart. 

“Everything bad has passed, no more tears, ‘kay?” Samrat says, wiping a lone tear sticking to her lashes while Mishti preens under the gentle attention, nodding. 

Yes, it does feel like every obstruction has passed, Mishti can feel it the way his gentle fingers map her face, stroking her cheeks one moment and tracing her brows the other. 

She closes her eyes when his hesitant thumb draws an imaginary line under them, wiping away any remnants of melancholy, and holds her breath when she feels him inching closer to her, his breath directly hitting her face. 

“S-Samrat –” Mishti is shushed by the finger that travel down to her lips, the touch gentle and careful under which her lips curl into a small smile, making Samrat chuckle silently. 

“Stop smiling.” He whispers, edging his mouth closer to her ears and she shakes her head. Though her resolve breaks when a pair of lips land at her cheek, the kiss echoing in her ears and the tresses of her hair tickling his mouth. It’s inevitable the way her heart skips a beat at the action, breath coming out in stuttering intervals. 

It does nothing to normalise her heartbeat when she feels the pair of lips travelling downwards, gentle fingers guarding its path until the lips reach their destination, halting at the corner of her mouth, his thumb grazing against her jaw.

Her breath hitches in her throat and so does the entire world, never having experienced such strong emotions rising like a high tide in her heart, and yet she is the one who pulls back first, opening her eyes, dazed.

Samrat doesn’t mind but he worries that he has crossed an unsaid line, one which he shouldn’t have dared to cross. Though Mishti is quick to put a full stop to his worries when she holds his hands in hers and looks him in the eyes. She smiles as she intertwines their hands and this time it is Samrat who forgets to breathe. 

“I want to tell you something.” She murmurs holding the intertwined hands against her chest while Samrat takes his time to process the words, quickly nodding when he does so. 

“Yeah… tell me, tell me anything. I’ll listen to you, I promise.” Mishti can’t help that teary smile that crawls up her lips at those words, her voice gaining the confidence it needed.

“You remember that you used to tell me…used to say that I look like someone?” Mishti asks and Samrat has to only think for a second before he nods, a small furrow of confusion taking its place between his brows.

She then takes his hand that is clasped between hers and brings it to her face, unfurling it so that his entire hand is covering the lower part of her face, only the a part of her nose bridge and eyes visible.

“Do you see it?” she asks with hesitant eyes, voice coming out muffled from beneath his hand.

“What should I s –” Samrat begins but in a flash, everything falls into its place, and he is forced to stop himself as soon as he sees it.

The resemblance. 

His eyes widen as he looks at the hazel eyes of the girl that matches uncannily with the girl from his dreams, his vague memories, the worst time of his life that doesn’t give him as much pain as it should when he remembers it. Just because of that girl; the girl in the scarf. 

Mishti removes his hand from her face though keeps holding it as she goes on. 

“I couldn’t forget you, for years kept on thinking about you until… until the day the agency gave us this mission and made you our target. The plan originally was to just jump in front of your car, pretend that you have hit me and rob you off.” Mishti reveals, scared and yet there is an underlying confidence in her heart that doesn’t let her stop. Tells her that she can say anything to him, and he’ll understand. 

“I couldn’t do it, though. I kept thinking about you from all those years ago. I couldn’t believe you were in front of me. The task failed and the agency came up with plan B which was planned by your mother all along. To take place of Preeti Ahuja, disguise as your chef and do whatever is instructed. I…. I just couldn’t let that opportunity go; you know. I didn’t know when I’d get to see you again or if I would ever get to or not. I didn’t want to miss it, wanted to keep the promise that I couldn’t keep that day. I wanted to stay beside you.” Mishti says and Samrat keeps looking at her with that same look on his face, eyes widened in surprise, mouth agape. 

“I didn’t want to hide this from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you or if I should tell you or not. What if…. what if you thought that I have –”

“Lied to me again,” Samrat says then, completing Mishti’s words, the expression of awe vanishing from his face getting replaced by a look that Mishti can’t quite decipher. 

She gulps.

His gaze flits over all her face, ultimately stopping at her eyes. “I could only remember these… these eyes. Have dreamt about them so many times. They had saved me that day… your words, your presence. It was really you.” A chuckle of disbelief escapes his mouth as he shakes his head to himself, the chuckle coming to an immediate pause, his face yet again lacking expressions; impassive.

“You had lied to me that day.” Samrat says then and just as Mishti jumps to defend herself, his finger is quick to cover her lips, a patient ‘Shhh’ escaping his mouth.

“I’m not done yet.” He whispers and then…then he gives her the most beautiful smile, pure happiness radiating all over his face, his eyes misted but not wistful.

“You had lied as a reply to my childish demand, but I’m ready to hear a thousand more lies a thousand more times if that means that you’d come back to me, stay with me and not leave me. Never again.” 

Mishti’s eyes pool with instant tears; tears of happiness, of relief, of gratitude as she listens to those words, her heart singing. 

“Thank you for saving me that day, thank you for keeping your promise, thank you for coming back to me. I could have never imagined that the girl in my dreams would actually be my dream girl.” He chuckles and Mishti does too, though hers comes out more like a sob.

“I had always given myself the permission to just feel grateful towards that person, just gratitude to the person whose words had brought me back to life… but now that I know that it was you then, in a disguise, had always been you …” he exhales nervously, looking at her with fond eyes, his hand yet again reaching up to her face and brushing away the tresses from her forehead. 

“I love you, Mishti.” He murmurs with sincere eyes, pressing his lips to her temple in an act to seal the words, nosing the path that brings their foreheads against each other, giving Samrat a clear view of the way Mishti’s lips quiver with a smile and eyes pool with tears. He lets out a wet chuckle of his own. 

“I love you.” He mouths again, brushing his nose against hers and wiping the lone tear that drops down her eyes. 

While Mishti.... she doesn't say anything. She doesn't think she can form a coherent sentence right now or join three words together without messing up.

Instead she cups his face with gentle hands, her thumb gently stroking his scruff. She pours all the love that she has accumulated for this man over the years as she closes the distance between them, smiling all the while because finally, finally there is nothing separating them.

No more lies, no more disguise.  Just them.

The En...

Mishti's gaze falls at the clock, the arm pointing to quarter to three taunting her. She is quick to get up from the couch.

“Oh God, I am late. The Jalebis! They are going to fire me. I might lose my job today.... ”
Mishti frets not sparing a moment to look down at the man pouting at her, maneuvering around the table and grabbing her uniform jacket.

“That was my first kiss.”  Samrat mumbles to himself though Mishti hears it loud and clear. And coos.

She can't stop the way she gravitates to the man once again. Press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Mine too, darling. Mine too.”
Samrat’s breath yet again hitches in his throat.

“You called me darling.” He says awestruck and Mishti has a sudden urge to give up the job just to spend some more time with this adorable little - or may be not so little man.

She smiles. “That I did. Now would you please mind taking out the car and dropping me to work? You know your future wife can't drive to save her life.”

Samrat looks at her wide-eyed. “You called yourself my future wife.” He whispers breathless and Mishti bites back a grin.

“I did. It's nothing untrue, is it?”

Samrat jumps up from the couch at the rhetorical question, face taking up a serious look but all Mishti can see is a big baby.

“Of course, not. And I'll not let my f-future wife get late to work.” He blushes, gaze downcast.

Mishti can't blame the way her uniform promptly falls from her hand and she goes on to give the man his second, third and fourth and fifth kiss of his life as he does to her.

The job be damned.

The End