Samaira carefully carried the tea tray toward the living room, where Advait’s grandmother sat regally in a high-backed chair near the large bay window. Despite her stern demeanor the previous night, there was a warmth in her eyes now as Samaira approached.

"Good morning, Dadi," Samaira said softly, setting the tea tray down. She bent to touch her feet respectfully.

The old woman’s lips curved into a faint smile as she placed a gentle hand on Samaira’s head. "Good morning, child," she said, her voice steady and laced with authority. "Sit. Let me take a look at you."

Samaira hesitated for a second before settling into the chair opposite her. "I hope the tea is to your liking," she said, her tone polite.

Grandma sipped the tea, her discerning eyes studying Samaira. "Not bad," she said finally, though there was a teasing glint in her gaze. "You seem like you’ve adjusted well already. I was half expecting you to run for the hills after meeting this lot."

Samaira chuckled lightly. "I guess I have to give credit to Advait for that," she said, keeping her tone light but formal. "He prepared me well for what to expect."

Grandma laughed, a sound that was rare but genuine. "If you can survive my grandson, you can survive anything," she said with a wink.

Before Samaira could respond, Mahendra, Advait’s uncle and the eldest of the family after his late father, walked in. His imposing figure commanded attention, but there was a gentleness in his demeanor that set him apart.

"Good morning, Uncle," Samaira said respectfully, standing up and stepping forward to touch his feet.

"Ah, good morning, Samaira," Mahendra said warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder as he blessed her. "It’s good to finally meet you properly. And, might I say, welcome to the family."

"Thank you, Uncle," she replied with a soft smile.

Mahendra glanced at his mother and then back at Samaira, his expression softening. "I know Advait hasn’t made things easy for you," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "What he did a year ago was wrong—there’s no denying that. But I’m glad to see that you’re giving him another chance. It takes strength to do that."

Samaira’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly masked it. "Sometimes, second chances are necessary," she said, her words careful, but there was a deeper meaning behind them.

Mahendra nodded approvingly. "You have a good head on your shoulders, Samaira. I can see that already. If there’s anything you ever need, don’t hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Uncle. That means a lot," Samaira said sincerely.

After a few more pleasantries, Samaira excused herself and made her way back to the room. The moment she stepped in, she found Advait lounging casually on the chair by the window, his sharp eyes lifting to meet hers.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm, though there was a hint of curiosity beneath it.

Samaira placed herself meticulously on the chair and crossed her arms. "Everyone is quite sweet here," she replied, her voice carrying a touch of irony.

Advait smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Excessive sweetness causes diabetes, you know," he quipped, his tone dry.

Samaira rolled her eyes, suppressing a small smile. "You’re not wrong," she said. Then, her expression grew serious. "But we can’t uncover the truth about your father—or figure out who’s targeting you—if we just play along. We need to dig deeper."

Advait’s smirk faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "You think I don’t know that?" he said, his voice dropping slightly. "But this family... everyone here has mastered the art of wearing masks. They all play nice, but their intentions are anything but."

Samaira nodded but then asked hesitantly, "Why would anyone kill your father, Advait? What could they possibly gain from it?"

Advait’s eyes darkened, the playful sarcasm gone. "My father’s death shifted the balance of power," he said quietly. "The family business was split among his siblings—Uncle Mahendra, Uncle Vikram, and Aunt Subhadra.Before that my father handed it solely as my dadi and dada believed that he was capable enough to handle it alone, though Uncle Mahendra often helped him.And the one who took over the largest share was Uncle Mahendra."

Samaira frowned slightly. "Do you think Uncle Mahendra is involved?"

Advait shook his head. "He’s loyal—to the family, to my father’s legacy. He wouldn’t stoop so low. But someone could be manipulating him."

"And Aunt Subhadra?" Samaira asked cautiously.

Advait’s jaw tightened. "She’s ambitious. After her divorce, she’s been fighting for relevance in the family. She resents being sidelined, but... I don’t know if she’d go that far."

Samaira thought for a moment before continuing. "And Uncle Vikram?"

Advait’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "Uncle Vikram has always been content with the scraps. He doesn’t want power—he just wants comfort. But Aunt Ritu..." He paused, his gaze narrowing. "She’s a different story."

Samaira leaned forward slightly, her voice low. "And what about Aryan and Kartik? They’re old enough to have their own ambitions."

Advait let out a humorless chuckle. "Aryan is too reckless to pull off something like this. Kartik... he’s clever, but I don’t think he’d act without Aunt Ritu’s influence."

Samaira sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "So, basically, everyone is a suspect," she said dryly.

"Exactly," Advait replied, his tone grim. "And that’s why we can’t trust anyone."

Samaira met his gaze, her own resolve hardening. "Then we’ll have to play their game," she said firmly. "But on our terms."

Advait studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. "You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?" he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

Samaira didn’t reply, but the determined glint in her eyes was answer enough.

For now, they had to keep playing their parts, but both of them knew that the real battle was just beginning.