Nandini's POV
Okay. Today is the day.
The day I do something for my husband.
The man who looks like a Greek god, plays piano like a tragic artist, and still doesn't know how to smile without looking like he's plotting a murder.
So obviously, I had a genius idea: make him breakfast.
Because nothing says "I care about you" like food... especially when it's not poisoned and barely edible.
I tied my dupatta like a cape (Chef Nandu was in the house!), marched into the kitchen, and stared down the ingredients.
Menu Plan:
– Masala dosa
– Coconut chutney
– Filter coffee
– My pride
Now... did I know how to make these?
Technically, yes.
Emotionally, spiritually, practically? Absolutely not.
Thirty minutes later...
Smoke. So much smoke.
One dosa had glued itself to the pan like it wanted to be cremated.
The coconut chutney looked suspiciously like lumpy milk.
The coffee? Strong enough to summon ancestors.
But I did it.
Kinda.
I set the table, lit a tiny candle for ✨aesthetic✨, and ran upstairs to drag the human brick wall I married.
He was in the music room, tuning his piano, looking like he was auditioning for a broody drama.
"Breakfast?" I asked with my best innocent smile.
He looked up. "You cooked?"
"Yes."
He blinked like I just said, "I robbed a bank with your mother."
Then stood up slowly. "Let's see if I survive this."
RUDE.
Siddharth's POV
The kitchen smelled like... enthusiasm.
And desperation.
Nandini was watching me with the energy of a puppy hoping I'd like her very messy stick.
She sat opposite me, biting her lip as I took a bite.
It was... not bad.
The dosa was uneven. The chutney was salty. The coffee was illegal.
But for the first time in a long time, I felt... seen.
Like someone had done something just for me. Not the CEO. Not Roy Industries. Just... me.
"Hmm," I said, chewing thoughtfully. "You tried."
She gasped. "That's it? Not even a fake 'it's delicious'?"
I took another bite. "You want me to lie?"
"Yes! That's what normal husbands do!"
"Good thing I'm not normal then."
She huffed. "Fine. From now on I'm only feeding you toast and tears."
Nandini's POV
I was sulking on the balcony when he appeared with two cups—his evil coffee and my slightly less evil version.
He handed one to me. "You'll need this. I plan to torture you."
"Excuse me?"
"Piano lesson. Now."
"Oh god. Can't I just poison you next time?"
Fifteen Minutes Later: The Piano Room
I sat stiffly on the bench next to him.
His hand hovered over mine as he said, "Middle C."
I pressed a random key.
"That's G."
I pressed another.
"That's still G."
"Maybe the piano is broken?"
He sighed. "Slide over."
And then—bam.
Suddenly, we were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. I could smell his cologne. My brain shut down. The only music I heard was my heart pounding like a marching band.
"Relax," he murmured, placing his hand over mine.
HOW???
My fingers moved stiffly. I played something that sounded like a dying robot.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he whispered, "You're not supposed to slap the keys. Gently."
"Okay but like, the keys insulted me."
He chuckled.
CHUCKLED.
I froze.
"Did you just... laugh?"
He looked away. "You imagined it."
Liar.
But a cute one.
I grinned. "So... lesson two tomorrow?"
He didn't answer.
But he didn't say no either.