It was 7:30 in the evening, and Shikha's heart raced as she waited anxiously for Mohit. She knew tonight wouldn't be easy; he would be furious with her, and the thought gnawed at her insides. Pacing back and forth in the dimly lit living room, she couldn't help but glance at the clock every few seconds. The minutes ticked by painfully slow until, at last, at 8 PM, the doorbell chimed. Shikha rushed to the door, her pulse quickening. There he stood—Mohit, his face a mask of cold indifference. Without a word or glance her way, he brushed past her, heading straight to the bedroom, flinging his bag onto the couch as if discarding the weight of the day.

Shikha sighed, her shoulders sagging with the heaviness of the moment. She had braced herself for this reaction, yet it still stung. Looking upwards, she clasped her hands tightly, whispering a silent prayer. "Oh God, give me strength."

Determined, she followed him into the bedroom. Mohit was in the bathroom, and the room bore the chaotic imprint of his return: his shirt tossed carelessly onto the bed, files scattered haphazardly, shoes abandoned on the floor. The cupboard doors hung open, adding to the disarray. Shikha hurriedly tidied up, her fingers moving swiftly as though trying to mend more than just the mess. She folded his shirt, arranged the files neatly, closed the cupboard, and placed his shoes in the rack. Her actions were automatic, driven by a nervous energy.

Fifteen minutes later, his voice boomed through the house like a thunderclap. "SHIKHAAA! GOD DAMMIT, WHERE ARE YOU?"

She rushed in, her heart pounding. "What happened?"

"Why did you touch my things?" he snapped, his tone sharp with anger.

"I didn't mess with them," she replied evenly, though she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "I just put them where they belong."

"Oh, so now you're deciding where my things go?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"That's not what I meant, Mohit. Why are you overreacting?" She asked, trying to keep her cool.

"Overreacting?" He clenched his jaw, his eyes blazing. "You don't know what overreacting is yet."

Her patience snapped like a taut string pulled too tight. "What do you want from me now?" she demanded.

"I want everything back where I left it. Just. The. Way. It. Was."

"Fine!" she spat, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. "You want chaos? Here!"

With exaggerated movements, she snatched the files off the counter and threw them onto the bed. She retrieved his dirty clothes from the laundry bin and flung them on top, leaving them in a crumpled heap. She yanked the cupboard doors open and tossed several pairs of shoes across the room, sending them clattering to the floor.

Mohit stood frozen, his expression one of utter disbelief. Shikha glared at him, her chest heaving with fury. "MOHIT, DON'T EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the stillness. "Why are you so angry? Is it because I sent you food today? Because I cared enough to make sure you had something decent to eat instead of that awful canteen food? You act like I committed some crime. If you hate it so much, I won't send you tiffin again! YES, MR. MOHIT GUPTA, I WILL NEVER EMBARRASS YOU LIKE THAT AGAIN. Happy now?"

Before he could respond, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her so hard it rattled in its frame.

Mohit stood in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His fists clenched in frustration, he sank onto the bed, punching the mattress in impotent rage. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was Piyush.

"Hello," Mohit answered, his voice tight.

"Hey, still mad?" Piyush's voice was casual, almost amused.

"Not in the mood for your jokes, man," Mohit grumbled.

"Rough day, huh? Did you fight with Bhabhi again?"

"Don't even ask. I don't know how to deal with this anymore. Sometimes I feel like I got married too soon. It's barely been three months, and we've fought more times than I can count. I don't even know whose fault it is half the time. I can never figure out who should apologize."

Piyush chuckled. "Hahaha."

"You're laughing? Seriously?"

"Come on, man. This is normal. You both just need time to adjust. And trust me, you'll be the one apologizing."

"Why me?" Mohit asked, frowning.

"Because, bro, you need her more. Think about it—your food, your peace... everything's at stake, hahaha."

Mohit groaned. Piyush's teasing words echoed in his mind as he hung up. Slowly, the realization hit him. Piyush was right. Shikha had left everything behind to be with him, and here he was, letting his ego get in the way.

Taking a deep breath, Mohit rose from the bed and headed toward the kitchen. Shikha was there, her back to him, focused on whatever she was cooking. Her movements were swift, precise, and tinged with anger. "Shikha..." Mohit called softly. No response. He tried again. "Shikha..." Still, nothing.

As he moved closer, she turned, holding two bowls in her hands. She placed them on the dining table without a word, but her face, a mix of regret and determination, said it all.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "I shouldn't have reacted like that... I made dinner. Please eat. I know you didn't eat properly at the office. And look, I even made your favorite coconut barfi."

A wave of guilt washed over Mohit. Her gesture, despite everything, touched him deeply. He faked a small frown before relenting. "Thank you," he said softly, taking a seat.

As they ate in silence, the tension between them began to ease, replaced by an unspoken understanding. After a while, Mohit broke the quiet. "You nervous about the day after tomorrow? First day at the new office?"

"A little," Shikha admitted, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "But it's nothing like my previous job."

"Why's that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because this time, you'll be there with me," she said, a soft smile finally breaking through.

A warmth spread through Mohit at her words. After dinner, they cleaned up and headed to bed, the earlier anger dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

Shikha woke up early, getting ready for the office with practiced efficiency. Mohit followed suit, though not as quickly. While he prepared, Shikha busied herself in the kitchen, putting together breakfast for the both of them. They ate quietly, but the morning felt unusually heavy.

As they were driving, Mohit sensed her anxiety. He reached over, gently touching her hand.

"Don't worry, Shikha. Everything is going to be fine," he said, his voice warm with reassurance.

"Yeah..." She nodded, though her heart still fluttered with nervousness.

"You'll love it there. I've got a lot of friends at the office. If you need anything, you can always ask them."

"Not ask you?" she teased, the corner of her lips curving upward for the first time that morning.

Mohit chuckled. "Of course, me too! But you know, in case I'm not around. Stop pulling my leg..." They both laughed, easing the tension that had been building up.

"Oh, by the way, you won't be working on my floor," he mentioned casually, as if it were no big deal.

"What? What do you mean?" Shikha frowned, puzzled.

"Engineers sit on the 1st floor, management is on the 2nd," he explained.

"Ah, I see..." she nodded, processing the information.

"But no worries, I have a friend who's also an HR manager. Her name is Kesha. She'll help you out. She's a sweetheart, actually. She's my best friend's girlfriend."

"Oh... I hope we get along well," Shikha replied, feeling a bit of her anxiety melt away.

"Even though we're on different floors, we'll still get time to meet." Mohit reassured her again.

As they arrived at the office, Mohit's friends were already gathered, ready to welcome Shikha. Their warmth put her at ease almost immediately.

"Did you tell everyone?" Shikha whispered to Mohit, impressed by the reception.

"No, Piyush did. But speaking of him, where is that guy?" Mohit glanced around just as a familiar voice called out from behind them.

"Hey, there you are! I'm Piyush Patel. But you can just call me Piyush," he said, offering Shikha a friendly handshake.

"Hi, Piyush, Mohit's best friend, right?" Shikha smiled.

"Guilty as charged," he grinned. "So, how are you liking the office so far?"

"I like it. That's why I applied," Shikha said playfully.

"Oh? I thought it was because you liked someone here..." Piyush teased, raising an eyebrow. Shikha's eyes darted to Mohit, who was already shooting daggers at his friend.

"Piyush, man, knock it off. Shikha, you should go upstairs. You've got to meet Kesha. Sorry I can't come with you—I've got a meeting in half an hour, but she'll be looking out for you," Mohit nudged her along.

Shikha nodded, and after a quick goodbye, she made her way upstairs. She scanned the room and quickly spotted a woman with striking features—small, almond-shaped eyes that gave her an almost exotic look.

"Hi, you must be Kesha?" Shikha ventured.

"Shikhaaaa!" Kesha greeted her enthusiastically. "I've been waiting for you! Piyush wouldn't stop talking about you."

"But I just met him today..." Shikha said, confused.

Kesha laughed. "Mohit and Piyush are thick as thieves. Mohit must've talked about you, and Piyush would've heard through him."

"Ohhh, that makes sense now," Shikha replied, understanding.

"And by the way, you are gorgeous!" Kesha complimented her with an admiring look.

"Thanks..." Shikha blushed slightly, feeling flattered.

"Come on, let me show you around and introduce you to your new world," Kesha said with a wink.

Things were going smoothly, but as time passed, Shikha found herself with little to do. Bored and with her thoughts wandering back to Mohit, she decided to head downstairs to check on him.

By now, his meeting must be over, she thought as she navigated the stairs.

Lost in her thoughts, Shikha accidentally bumped into someone. It was a well-dressed woman, about her age, with neatly styled hair and minimal makeup. She had a striking air about her.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there," the woman apologized quickly.

"No, no, it was my fault too," Shikha responded.

"You seem new around here," the woman observed, her smile pleasant.

"Yes, I just joined today," Shikha confirmed.

"Oh, well, welcome! I'm Richa Kumar, by the way." She extended her hand.

For some reason, the name struck a chord with Shikha, and she found herself momentarily lost in thought.

"Hello?" Richa waved a hand in front of Shikha's face, snapping her out of her daze.

"Sorry! I'm Shikha. Shikha Gupta," she said, shaking Richa's hand with a smile, though she still felt an odd sense of discomfort.

"Gupta?" Richa raised an eyebrow.

"I just got married. I'm still getting used to the new surname," Shikha explained with a laugh. "I'm the new HR manager here."

"Ah, congratulations! I'm a software engineer," Richa said, then paused as if remembering something. "Wait... You're not Samarth's Shikha, are you?"

Shikha's smile faltered. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I mean, you're friends with Samarth, right? He mentioned you a while ago."

"Yes, Samarth Kashyap is a very good friend of mine," Shikha replied cautiously.

"Yeah, he's a good friend of mine too." Richa smiled, but Shikha felt an uncomfortable twinge in her gut.

"Well, I have to go now. We'll catch up later," Shikha said, eager to end the conversation.

"Sure," Richa responded, still smiling as Shikha hurried away.

On her way to Mohit's office, she caught a glimpse of Samarth but decided not to engage.

When she finally reached Mohit's office, she knocked lightly before entering.

"Good afternoon, sir," she teased, stepping in.

"Shikhaaa, what's with the 'sir'? You're not my subordinate, and you know it," Mohit laughed, walking toward her.

"I'm just following office protocol, Mr. Mohit Gupta," she winked, playfully.

"Protocol? At home, you barge into rooms without knocking!" he teased back.

"That's because, Mr. Shekhawat, that room is mine too," she shot back, grinning.

"So, how's your first day?" Mohit asked, leaning casually on the table.

"Smooth so far, but guess who I ran into today?" she said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Mohit frowned slightly. "Who?"

"RICHAAA!" Shikha exclaimed, watching him closely for his reaction.

"Oh, that's nice. Did you like her?" Mohit asked, his tone a little too neutral.

"She's smart, pretty, and well-spoken..." Shikha replied, gauging his response.

"You're prettier," Mohit said quickly.

Shikha felt a twinge of irritation. She didn't want comparisons. She didn't want reassurances. But she knew Mohit had sensed her unease and was trying to put her mind at ease, though the silence that followed said more than their words.

They had lunch together, the quiet between them heavy with unspoken thoughts, as the rest of the day passed in much the same way.

___