The atmosphere of the restaurant felt unusually heavy that night.
The lights were warm, the music played at a low volume, but the staff's movements were fast—everyone knew this was not a normal service. Plates were polished extra carefully, cutlery was checked twice, and instructions kept coming continuously from the kitchen.
All of it was for Aditya's guests.
Niki stood near the counter.
One hand rested on the register, while the other unconsciously kept moving toward the clock on the wall.
8:42…
8:44…
Her phone vibrated again inside the pocket of her apron.
Raavi calling…
She didn't look at the screen. She didn't have the courage to.
She was at work—and here, work didn't just mean serving food. It meant being present.
In the dining area, four men were seated. Well-dressed, composed, the kind of people who seemed to belong everywhere they went. Among them, one man stood out—around sixty to sixty-five years old, grey hair neatly combed, posture authoritative. He clearly seemed to be the main guest.
The man gestured for Aditya to sit on the chair beside him.
"Come, sit here," he said casually—like a senior family member, not a customer.
Aditya sat down without hesitation.
The other three men settled into their seats. Dishes began to arrive. Bikky personally served them—extra careful, extra polite.
Niki remained at the counter.
Even while arranging order slips, her eyes kept drifting toward that table… then back to the clock.
8:47.
The food at the table was almost finished. Conversations flowed—business, old connections, occasional laughter in between.
The older man placed his fork aside and leaned back slightly.
"The taste of the food," he said softly, "is still exactly the same."
A restrained smile appeared on Aditya's lips.
"Yash is our chief from the very beginning," Aditya replied. "And honestly—he's the best."
The man smiled. "I know."
After a brief pause, he added, "I'll try my best to convince your father."
Aditya straightened in his chair. "I'd appreciate that, sir."
For a second, silence settled over the table.
Then the man chuckled—soft, but meaningful.
"Please," he said, "don't make it so formal. We are still family."
Aditya lowered his gaze for a moment.
"Sorry… uncle."
"Kid," the man said, warmth in his voice, "you grew up so fast."
Niki watched all of this from the counter.
Aditya's face—controlled, respectful, but his shoulders were slightly stiff.
As if he wasn't just a restaurant owner sitting there… but part of an old expectation.
Her phone vibrated again.
Raavi:
"Where are you? Sam is ready. You're getting late."
Niki locked the screen without replying.
8:53.
A call came from the kitchen—the dessert was ready. Bikky picked up the plate and walked toward the table.
Niki stayed where she was.
Work continued.
The guests were important.
And time—kept slipping away silently.
In the next scene, the man asked Aditya to call all the staff.
Everyone came out of the kitchen—first Yash, then Rakesh, Anil, Mahesh, Sameer, and Bikky. Niki also stepped forward from the counter.
The man shook hands with Yash and said, "Keep doing the work just like this."
He gave tips to everyone as well.
The entire staff walked with them to see the guests out.
After the guests left, everyone returned inside the restaurant.
Aditya then spoke to Yash in a polite tone, "Thank you. Because of you, this place is still famous today."
Niki was surprised to see this side of him.
Everyone looked happy. The staff began chatting among themselves.
Yash said, "We got tips today. Dinner is on me tonight. Where should we go? Tell me, Bikky."
Just then Aditya said, "You all go. I'll take care of the payment. Yash, you come too."
Aditya added, "I need to leave early. I have some work. You all go."
Yash nodded. "Alright."
He then turned to Bikky. "You've been saying this for so long…"
At that moment, Niki spoke up. "I'll leave now. My sister is waiting for me."
Yash asked, "What's the matter? Everyone's going."
Niki replied, "What should I say… I was supposed to leave at eight. My sister is getting married, and we had to go shopping."
Then she added with a small laugh, "She's going to kill me."
Yash said, "Then we'll go some other time."
"No, no. You all go," Niki said. "Anyway, I won't be able to join for a few days. After work here, there are wedding responsibilities too."
"Okay," Yash said. "But it's late now. I'll ask someone to drop you home."
Niki replied, "It's okay. It's already ten, and I won't get a bus either. I have to go to my friend's place—it's about a 39-minute walk from here. I'll manage."
She went inside to get her bag.
Outside, Yash saw Aditya and called out to him.
"Hey, Aditya. Will you drop Niki on the way? She's going in the same direction. It's late. And also, give her fifteen days' leave—there's a wedding at her place. After college, managing restaurant work too will be difficult."
Aditya asked, "Did she say all this to you?"
"No," Yash replied. "But she's good at her work. We can do at least this much for her. It's been one or two months since she joined. She comes on time and works well."
"I'll see," Aditya said briefly. "She didn't say anything."
That was all he said before adding, "I'll be outside."
Yash nodded. "Alright."
Aditya stepped outside.
Niki came out with her bag.
Yash was still standing there.
"Okay then," Niki said. "You all enjoy. I'll leave."
Yash said, "Aditya is standing outside."
Niki hesitated. "What…?"
"He's going in the same direction," Yash said. "He'll drop you."
"No," Niki said. "I'll go on my own."
"It's late," Yash insisted. "He'll drop you."
Niki couldn't say anything after that.
And inside her mind, familiar thoughts began to surface.Niki walked out of the restaurant.
The night was quieter than she expected. Too quiet.
Aditya's car stood right outside, dark and still, as if it had been waiting longer than it should have.
Her steps slowed.
I should just walk.
This is awkward.
Why is my heart beating like this?
She exhaled sharply, annoyed at herself, and opened the passenger-side door.
Before she could sit—
The other door opened.
Aditya stepped out of the car.
She froze, half-bent, confused.
He walked around, opened the back door, and said evenly,
"Sit here."
The command wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
She straightened. "What?"
He didn't answer. Just closed the back door again and moved forward.
For a second, her brain stalled.
Then he opened the front passenger seat door for her.
"Get in," he said.
Not polite.
Not rude.
Certain.
Her pulse jumped.
That small, unnecessary gesture—opening the door after stopping her—unsettled her more than indifference ever could.
She stepped back, got into the front seat.
He closed the door.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Too long to be accidental.
Too short to be safe.
Aditya walked around and sat in the driver's seat. The engine started. The car rolled forward.
Neither spoke.
Streetlights passed over his face, then hers—light, shadow, light again. She was suddenly aware of everything: how close his arm was, the quiet hum of the engine, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with night air.
Pull yourself together, she told herself.
"You're getting married?" he asked.
She turned sharply. "What?"
"Yash mentioned fifteen days' leave," he said, eyes still on the road. "Wedding."
"No," she said. "My sister."
Something eased in his expression. Just slightly. Almost invisible.
"Oh," he replied.
Silence again.
Her phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
She ignored it, but he noticed.
"You're popular," he said.
A corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. "It's late."
He glanced at her then—not casually this time. Direct. Measuring.
For a moment, the air felt… thinner.
"It's been two months," she said suddenly.
He shifted his gaze back to the road. "What has?"
"My salary."
The words landed between them.
The car slowed at a signal. Red light.
He looked at her now. Fully.
"I'll check," he said.
No excuses.
No softness.
But he didn't look away immediately either.
The light turned green.
They drove on.
Her heartbeat hadn't slowed.
Raavi's apartment building came into view.
He parked.
She reached for the handle—
The door opened before she could touch it.
Aditya stood outside, holding the front passenger door open.
She looked up at him.
For a second, they were too close.
"Good night," she said, voice steadier than she felt.
"Good night," he replied.
His gaze lingered—lowered for a fraction of a second, then back to her eyes.
Not desire.
Not kindness.
Something unresolved.
She stepped out. The door closed behind her.
The car drove away.
Niki stood there, phone buzzing wildly in her hand, heart still racing.
Nothing had happened.
And yet—
she knew one thing for sure.
This was only the beginning.