Samarth stood beside her chair, his face unreadable. He twisted the lid with one efficient motion, the jar opening easily under his strength.
He set it down in front of her without a word.
Their fingers brushed as she reached for it.
The contact was electric—a jolt that reminded her of his hands on her body just hours ago, his fingers inside her, his filthy words in her ear.
Her breath caught.
His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, something dark and possessive flashing in their depths before he looked away and returned to his seat.
Nimisha's hand trembled slightly as she picked up a biscuit and spread Nutella on it, hyper-aware of the lingering heat where his fingers had touched hers.
"As I was saying," Kritika continued, seemingly oblivious to the moment that had just passed, "we should have a chocolate fountain at the dessert station."
The meeting droned on. Nimisha ate her Nutella and biscuits, took her notes, and tried to focus on anything other than the man across the room who'd made her come apart in a hallway last night and then left her alone in their bed.
An hour later, as the meeting was winding down, the doorbell rang.
One of the servants appeared. "Ma'am, someone has sent sweets for the family."
Saroj's brows rose. "Who?"
"Kritika ma'am, apparently. From her favorite sweet shop."
Kritika smiled. "Oh! Yes, I stopped by there this morning and had them prepare a special order. Rey's favorite—kesar peda. I know how much he loves them."
She stood and moved to where Samarth sat, placing the box of sweets on the table beside him. "Remember when I used to make these in school? I could never get them quite right, but you'd eat them anyway."
Rey. The intimate nickname that spoke of years of shared history.
"You were terrible at cooking," Samarth said, but his tone was fond. Gentle in a way it never was with Nimisha.
"I've gotten better." Kritika's laugh was light, musical. "But I still can't compete with the professionals."
She opened the box, revealing perfectly formed golden sweets. The smell of saffron and cardamom filled the room.
"Try one," she urged, picking up a piece and offering it to him.
Nimisha watched from her corner, that familiar resentment simmering in her chest. The easy touching. The shared memories. The way Kritika knew his favorites.
The way he let her into spaces Nimisha would never occupy.
She looked away, focusing on her laptop screen, pretending she didn't care.
Bruno's tail thumped once against the floor—a gesture of solidarity.
"Bhabhi, want one?" Shaurya appeared beside her, holding out the box of sweets.
"No, thank you."
"Come on, they're really good—"
"I said no." Her tone was sharper than intended.
Shaurya's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded and moved away.
Nimisha closed her laptop and stood. "If we're finished, I have some work to do."
