I hear the bell of our house ring.   

He’s here.   

The mentioned assistant is finally here.   

Hell. I’m not even ready yet.   

I plan on applying a bit of light makeup—not very much, just enough to not look half-dead. So, I decide to keep him waiting for two or three more minutes. That’s fair.   

Meera, already dressed and sitting on my bed, calls out, “Maya, he’s here! Go open the door.”   

“You do it yourself, I’m still getting ready,” I reply, dabbing on a little highlighter.   

“Hey Bhagwan, kitna zyada time lagati hai tayar hone mein yeh ladki,” she mutters under her breath.

I roll my eyes. “Chup.”   

I glance at my reflection one last time. I do not look bad. I grab my sling bag and rush downstairs.   

As I reach the living room, I notice an elderly man sitting on the couch. His shirt is neatly tucked in, shoes polished. Meera is already offering him water, which he politely refuses.   

“Namaste, Uncle,” I say with a smile.   

He smiles back, eyes scanning my face for a second, as if trying to remember something.   

“Who among you is Maya?” he asks, his voice calm and friendly.   

Meera and I share a quick look. She points at me.   

My stomach tightens.   

Why does he know my name?   

Did something happen?   

Please god, no bad news.   

“I’m Maya,” I say softly.   

His smile gets warmer.   

“Uncle, aap kuch piyenge? Chai, coffee ya juice?” I ask quickly, just to fill the silence.   

He shakes his head. “Kuch nahi, main bas aap dono ko lene aaya hun. Agar tayaar hain toh chalein?”   

I glance at Meera. She nods. We grab our phones and step out.   

A black car is parked right outside. The driver rushes to open the back door for us. The seats are spotless, smelling faintly of leather and air freshener.   

I slide in and pull my seatbelt. Meera sits beside me, while Uncle takes the passenger seat in front.   

The car starts moving.   

For a while, no one talks. Meera’s busy texting someone—probably her situationship guy. She’s obsessed with him but will never admit it.

Uncle’s phone keeps buzzing, but he ignores it. I keep staring out the window, watching the shops and people pass by.   

Halfway through the ride, curiosity finally gets the better of me. “Uncle, Mr Kapoor kidhar rehte hai?”   

“We are almost there, you’ll get to know,” he replies simply.   

I hum in response, leaning back against the seat.

After a few more turns, the car finally comes to a halt. I look out and wow.   

The house is huge. Not just huge—massive. Same scale as ours, honestly. White walls, wide balconies, and big glass windows that probably cost more than my entire closet. This house is dreamy.

I don’t remember coming here before. I don’t even remember any Mr Kapoor. But fine, maybe when I see him, I’ll remember.   

My eyes land on a sleek black car parked just ahead. Looks like it was parked only a few seconds ago—the engine’s still making that cooling sound. Could it be my parents are already here?   

My gaze moves to the polished wooden door with golden handles, and then to the stone planters on either side, each holding perfect green plants. This place screams rich.   

Meera walks ahead like she owns the place. “Meera, wait for me,” I call out, quickening my pace.   

Mr. Assistant walks right behind us, his polished shoes clicking softly against the stone floor.   

We step inside, and the cool air hits me immediately. The entrance is spotless, the marble floor shining like glass.   

“Let’s go to the dining room,” Uncle says. “Everyone must be present there.”   

We follow him through a wide hallway lined with framed paintings. The faint smell of fresh flowers lingers in the air.   

When we enter the dining room, I spot them instantly. My parents. Mama and Papa are seated with an older couple, probably Mr and Mrs Kapoor. They’re laughing about something, tea cups in front of them.   

“Mama!” I say, rushing forward. I quickly hug her, feeling her familiar warmth.   

She pulls back to look at me and immediately frowns. “Maya, yeh kya pehna hai tumne? Dinner pe aise kapde?”   

I look down at myself. It’s literally a cute dress. Not even bad. “Mama” I start, but she waves me off, muttering something about ‘ladki ka taste’.   

I ignore her. Not worth it right now.   

Meera hugs our parents next, earning a much warmer response. Probably because she’s dressed like she stepped out of some catalog. Typical.   

We’re soon told to sit. Meera sits beside Mama, and I take the seat opposite.   

Mr Kapoor, a tall man with silver hair and a friendly smile, waves at a house help. “Go call my kids for dinner.”   

In a minute, a young woman walks in. She looks older than me, maybe mid-twenties, dressed in a pastel suit. She has a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Isha,” she says, shaking both our hands. She sits beside Meera.

I smile back politely.   

Next comes a younger boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, wearing a tee. He mumbles a quick hello before sitting down.   

And then comes another guy.

Him.   

He walks in like he owns the room.

Sharp black shirt, sleeves rolled up. Hazel eyes. His hair is perfectly messy, if that even makes sense. And those eyes find me instantly.   

Ivansh.   

What the hell is he doing here?   

Wait.   

Is he the son of Mr Kapoor?   

Oh no.   

Oh yes.   

He is Ivansh Kapoor.   

How did I not catch that earlier?   

What is happening?   

I’m still trying to process when he smiles. Not his usual annoying smirk, this one’s soft. Like he’s genuinely happy to see me.   

I don’t trust it for a second.   

“Maya, you must already know Ivansh,” Mr Kapoor says with a warm chuckle. “You two were childhood best friends. I don’t know if you still remember him.”   

Childhood best friends? My mind blanks.   

I do remember a boy from my childhood. But was that him? Did he remember me? How did I not recognise him-?

I glance at him again. He’s still looking at me, his expression calm but his eyes holding something else.   

“He goes to the same college as you,” Mr Kapoor continues. “Quite famous there. You might have already met him.”   

Meera looks at me with a teasing smile on her face. She's going to start teasing me again. Bitch. 

Yeah. We’ve met, alright.   

Just not in the way our parents would imagine.

I don’t say anything though. Just plaster a polite smile on my face and glance away, pretending to admire the silver cutlery on the table.

Ivansh doesn’t look away. I can feel his gaze still on me, heavy, like he’s trying to read my thoughts—or maybe just enjoying the fact that I’m trapped here.

I hate that my stupid heart is beating faster.

“Bachpan mein toh tum dono inseparable the,” Mrs Kapoor says suddenly, her voice cheerful. “Har jagah saath. School, park, ghar—sab jagah.”

I take a sip of water and glance up, forcing a polite laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Bilkul,” she continues, clearly enjoying her trip down memory lane. “Itni dosti thi ki hum toh sochte the, bade hoke shaadi bhi—”

I choke on my water.

“Maa,” Ivansh interrupts softly, still looking straight at me. “Let her breathe. We’re not kids anymore.”

The way he says it makes my pulse jump for absolutely no reason.

Mrs Kapoor chuckles, shaking her head. “Theek hai, theek hai. Waise tum dono ko dekh ke lagta hai kuch bhi badla nahi hai.”

I internally roll my eyes. Oh, if only she knew how much I dislike her son.

“Come, let’s eat,” Mr Kapoor says, gesturing for everyone to start. The house help begins serving dishes: paneer, dal, roti, something that smells like butter chicken. Everything looks like it came straight out of a five-star hotel.

I focus on filling my plate, but every time I glance up, he’s still watching me. He barely touches his food, his fingers casually drumming on the table, his expression unreadable.

It’s unnerving.

At one point, Meera kicks me under the table. I glare at her, but she just wiggles her eyebrows like an idiot. She’s loving this.

Papa starts talking to Mr Kapoor about some business deal, Mama chats with Mrs Kapoor about shopping in Delhi, and Meera is pretending to be all sweet and ladylike. I try to fade into the background, hoping the conversation won’t circle back to me.

It doesn’t.

Instead, halfway through dinner, Ivansh finally speaks to me.

“So,” he says, his voice low but clear enough for me to hear over the clinking of plates. “College tomorrow?”

I glance at him, confused. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” he replies, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just asking.”

The way he says it makes me feel like he's enjoying this shit—my awkwardness.

I narrow my eyes at him for half a second before looking away. I can’t deal with this right now. Not with everyone watching.

After dinner, Mama and Mrs Kapoor move to the living room with tea, while Papa and Mr Kapoor start discussing something serious. Meera is busy charming Isha, probably trying to get fashion tips out of her. She found her best friend, I guess.

Suddenly, Mr Assistant gets up from his chair and walks over to Mr Kapoor, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. His voice is low, but his expression makes it obvious—it’s something serious.

Ivansh’s gaze shifts to them, calm but sharp, like he already knows what’s being discussed. There’s a flicker in his eyes, almost too quick to catch, but it’s there.

Mr Assistant steps back, and Mr Kapoor clears his throat, looking toward my father.

“Oberoi sahab, Dehradun project ke liye humara udhar jaana zaruri hai. Dono families saath chalenge toh trip bhi ho jaayegi. Project ke saath reunion bhi.”

My father leans forward a little. “Kab jaayenge?”

Mr Kapoor thinks for a moment, then smiles. “Kal hi chale jaaye? Mai Manish se kehke tickets book karwa deta hun aaj hi.”

My father nods easily, no hesitation. Then he turns to Meera. “You free to come?”

“Yes, Dad.” Her answer comes so fast I’m pretty sure she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. Excitement is practically dancing in her eyes.

I open my mouth. “Dad, I’ve exams coming up, I will not be able to—”

“Maya, business project cannot wait for your exams to get over, beta,” Mama cuts me off, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Annoying.

Beyond annoying.

“And what am I supposed to do? Live alone?” I ask, irritation dripping in my voice, though I still keep it respectful.

“I cannot let you live alone, beta,” Papa says calmly, his voice as sweet as ever.

“What do I do though?” I mutter, looking between the two of them.

Before either of them can answer, Mr Manish—the assistant speaks up. “Kapoor sahab, Ivansh ke bhi toh exams honge na? Toh kyu na Maya beti yahi pe rehle un dino? Inder bhi kahi jaata toh hai nahi. Mai bhi yahi hi hun, yahan ka kaam toh mai hi sambhalta hun. Maya bhi toh paani bachi jaisi hai.”

What. No.

I blink, my brain trying to process the pure horror of that suggestion.

Ivansh and I cannot live in the same house. I won’t be able to survive. Humans usually need oxygen and water to survive, but me? I need distance from Ivansh. Lots of it.

Papa waves a hand dismissively. “Arey nahi, I’ll just get some house help for her.”

Better. Perfect. I could hug him for this.

But of course, Mr Kapoor has other plans. “Humare hote hue, you cannot do that. She’ll be living here for some time. Akele tang ho jaayegi.”

As if my parents always live with me. I’ve been alone half my life, though Meera’s been around sometimes. I don’t even know why they suddenly think I’m fragile.

Papa just hums in response, clearly thinking about it.

I finally gather enough courage to speak up. “It’s fine, Uncle. I won’t be a burden here for Ivansh. I’ll just live alone. And I’m not a kid as well.”

“You are never a burden, Dai—Maya,” Ivansh says softly.

He didn’t say Daisy.

Damn.

For a moment, his voice almost feels different. Less mocking, more real. But that’s impossible. This is Ivansh. His middle name is Trouble.

My chest feels oddly tight, but I push the feeling away and glance down at my plate, pretending to be very interested in the untouched salad in front of me. Out of 8 billion people, why's Ivansh the son of Mr Kapoor-

The table falls silent for a few seconds, but I can feel his gaze on me, steady and unblinking. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something without words, and I don’t want to hear it.

Mr Kapoor breaks the silence. “Toh decided? We all leave tomorrow morning. Tonight you'll stay here. And Maya will stay here while we are gone. And Meera beta, if you need anything, ask Isha for it.”

Papa nods, Mama smiles, Meera looks like she’s about to explode with joy, and I-

I want to sink into the ground.

Because tomorrow, my nightmare begins.

“Now that it’s already decided, what do I even do about my clothes and all the other things I’ll need?”

Papa looks at me like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I’ll give you money for shopping. No need to bring things from the house here.”

Before I can respond, Ivansh leans back in his chair, his smirk making an appearance again. “I’ll help you shop.”

My head snaps towards him. “No, thanks.”

His smirk widens, like he was expecting that exact reply. “You’ll need my help, Daisy—” he pauses for the briefest second, correcting himself, “I mean Maya. I know the best places.”

“I can manage on my own,” I say, my tone sharper than I intended.

Mama glances at me. “Maya, behave. It’s fine if he goes with you. At least he’ll make sure you don’t waste money on useless things.”

I roll my eyes so hard, I’m surprised they don’t get stuck there. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mama.”

Ivansh chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying this.

“Don’t worry, Aunty. I’ll make sure she gets only the essentials,” he says, smirking.

Jerk.

I narrow my eyes at him. “By essentials, you mean what? A bag full of annoying comments?”

He just shrugs, not even pretending to be offended. “If that’s what it takes to keep you entertained.”

Ugh.

Papa interrupts before I can come up with a comeback. “It’s settled then. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, you two can go shopping after the rest of us leave for Dehradun.”

I want to argue. Desperately. But I can feel everyone watching, and I know it’s useless.

Ivansh catches my eye and tilts his head ever so slightly, like he’s already picturing the entire outing. And something about that look makes my stomach flip- annoyingly so.

I look away, focusing on my plate again.

If tomorrow I have to shop with him, I’ll make sure to keep the trip as short as possible.

No unnecessary conversations.

No getting pulled into whatever game he’s playing.

At least, that’s the plan.

This dinner has traumatized me.

⚡SPOILER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER⚡

HIS POV:

I grin. “I didn’t know you were shy, Daisy.”

Her head snaps up instantly. “I’m not shy.”

Oh? That was fast.

I take a slow step toward her. Then another. Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t move back. Good.

My gaze drops to h

er lips without meaning to, and I catch the way her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.

Leaning down so my face is just inches from hers, I let my voice drop. “Then why can I hear your heartbeat from here?”

She tilts her chin up, refusing to be intimidated. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Bold. I like that.