That day—
Zoya returned early.
The hospital had been light.
Unusually calm.
The house felt quiet as she stepped in.
For a moment—
she stood still.
Then a thought crossed her mind.
Simple.
Unexpected.
She walked into the kitchen.
"I'll cook today."
The words surprised even her.
But she didn't stop.
Slowly—
carefully—
she began.
Not for anyone else.
Just… for them.
Time passed.
The food was ready.
But night grew deeper.
And he didn't come.
Zoya waited.
Then finally—
she asked a servant.
"He often stays late during work," they replied.
She nodded.
But something inside her—
didn't feel settled.
For the first time—
she picked up her phone.
And called him.
At the office—
his phone rang.
Armaan was busy.
Deep in work.
His PA picked up the call.
"Hello—"
Before he could continue—
Armaan looked at him.
"Who is it?"
His PA gestured silently—
Zoya.
Everything stopped.
Armaan stood up instantly.
Almost rushing.
He took the phone.
"…Zoya?"
His voice softened.
On the other side—
Zoya hesitated.
"I… um…" she paused,
"When will you come?"
Armaan blinked.
He wasn't expecting that.
"I'll come in the morning," he said gently.
"Is everything okay? Did something happen?"
Zoya shook her head instinctively—
then realized he couldn't see.
"No… nothing. I just asked… you weren't home."
A small silence followed.
"Okay," he said softly.
And the call ended.
Zoya stood there for a moment.
Then quietly—
she served the food.
Not alone.
With the servants.
Sharing.
Smiling faintly.
Before leaving—
she asked casually,
"What does he like for breakfast?"
The servants exchanged glances.
Then smiled knowingly.
"Oh… a lot of things."
They told her.
And teased her.
Zoya rolled her eyes slightly—
but didn't deny anything.
The next morning—
she woke up early.
The house was still asleep.
But the kitchen—
was alive again.
Soft sounds.
Gentle movements.
And for the first time—
she wasn't forcing herself.
She was choosing.
Just then—
the door opened.
Armaan entered.
Tired.
But calm.
He walked in—
and stopped.
Zoya.
Cooking.
He blinked.
"What are you doing?" he asked, surprised.
"Where are the servants?"
Zoya didn't turn immediately.
"I just wanted to eat something good," she replied simply.
"So I decided to cook."
Then she glanced at him briefly.
"Go freshen up. I'll serve breakfast."
Armaan stood there for a second.
Processing.
Then slowly—
a small, genuine smile appeared.
He walked to his room—
shaking his head slightly.
Not in disbelief.
But in quiet happiness.
When he came back—
the table was set.
Zoya served the food.
They sat.
Silence.
But this time—
not uncomfortable.
Armaan took a bite.
Paused.
Then looked at her.
"This is… really good."
Zoya looked down slightly.
A shy smile forming.
"Thank you."
It was simple.
But it meant everything.
Days passed like this.
Zoya did small things.
Not obvious.
Not direct.
But enough—
to be noticed.
And Armaan—
noticed everything.
But said nothing.
Because he didn't want to rush it.
Then one day—
Zoya spoke while getting ready.
"My friend is going to propose to someone."
Armaan looked up.
"We're going there in the evening. For preparation."
He nodded slightly.
Then asked casually—
"What will I do there?"
Zoya paused for a second.
Then replied simply—
"Who will bring me back?"
Armaan looked at her.
And for the first time—
he didn't hide his smile.
Because somewhere—
between silence and small efforts—
they had taken a step closer.