Yes, thepalace.Calling this place a home would be a massive understatement. It’s a white fortress with marble floors, towering ceilings, chandeliers, and enough space tohouse a small country. Eight hours ago, Manav practically kidnapped me—okay, rescued me—and brought me here, and since then, he has fed me twice with dishes so delicious they could bring world peace. Now it’s dinnertime, and he’s at it again, cooking something that smells suspiciously heavenly.
But let’s be real: My life is a circus right now. Sure, the food is amazing, the surroundings are out of a dream, and I’m grateful to be tucked away from the media storm outside. Yet there’s a nagging problem:
Manav Oberoi is not talking to me.
Not a single word. Not since his dramatic airport performance, where he introduced me to the world as hisgirlfriend.He’s polite, yes—he made sure I ate, showed me my room, served coffee, and pointed out that I could press zero on the guest room phone if I needed anything. There were moments, though—moments when I caught him looking at me, his expression lost in thought. But the second our gazes met, he would abruptly look away, pretending to scroll through his phone or focus on the table.
Unlike Roy’s bustling estate, Manav’s home has minimal staff—a detail I’m profoundly grateful for. Right now, I’m seated in his pristine, luxurious kitchen, waiting for dinner, and judging by his long-standing frown, I can tell something’s bothering him. Is it me?
What did I do?
The signs of his frustration are impossible to miss. In the last five minutes alone, he’s fired three people over a background clearance issue related to me—an issue I don’t even fully understand. His voice was practically murderous as he was furious with some poor Mr. Patel over the phone threatening to fire the entire security department if he receivedone more callabout safety protocols.
And me? I’ve decided the safest course of action is to eat quietly, finish my dinner, and retreat to the guest room. Not that I’ll get any sleep tonight—I’ve already accepted that as a fact. But at least I’ll be out of the line of fire.
“Do you want masala rice or plain rice?” Manav’s voice drew my attention to him as he stirred the pan with precision. His tone was casual, but something about the way his shoulders were slightly hunched and the faint circles under his eyes told a different story. He looked… tired?
“Um… anything,” I replied softly, offering a hesitant smile.
“Choose one.” His gaze flicked to mine briefly before returning to the pan.
“Plain is fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to complicate things further.
He nodded, his movements deliberate as he retrieved two plates from the cabinet. I stood and began setting the table, arranging the water glasses and condiments. It wasn’t much, but at least it made me feel a little useful.
Once everything was in place, we sat down to eat. The only sounds were the clink of silverware and the occasional soft scrape of plates. Manav was focused on his food, his jaw set, and his posture radiating tension. Should I ask what’s wrong?
I glanced at him, trying to gauge if it was safe to bring it up. But his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on his plate like it held all the answers he was searching for.
So, I stayed quiet.
____________
There’s a girl named Nancy in my room, meticulously making the bed with the precision of a five-star hotel staff. After a brief chat, I learned she’s been assigned to keep mecompany at night in case I can’t sleep.
What exactly is going on here?
Alright, enough of this confusion. I deserve to know what’s wrong with Manav Oberoi today and, more importantly, what I might have done to upset him. I’ve already changed into my nightwear, jumped onto the bed, and grabbed my phone, which has been switched off for hours thanks to the never-ending flood of messages.
As expected, there are nearly a thousand missed calls, with a solid 750 of them from Myra. Of course, she must have seen the news or caught wind of the social media circus.
But I ignored it all for now, choosing instead to type out a message to the grumpy Manav Oberoi.
Me:Why are you avoiding me?
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with his reply.
Manav:I am not avoiding you.
I sighed, typing quickly.
Me:Have I done something to make you mad? Or is this just how you behave as a host?
It took a minute for him to reply:
Manav:Are you not feeling comfortable here?
Me:I miss talking to you…
