Morning sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across my room. I turned on the bed, eyes still heavy with sleep, as the distant chirping of birds reached my ears. Blinking lazily, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—8:14 AM. My heart nearly stopped.
I sighed and rolled over, trying to push the thought away, but then it hit me—I had to go to Kathir's house.
A frustrated groan escaped my lips. Damn it.
Without wasting another second, I grabbed a towel and rushed into the bathroom, the cold tiles sending a jolt through my feet. After a quick shower, I pulled on a crisp white blouse and a pair of blue jeans, leaving my hair loose to dry. A light touch of my usual makeup routine followed, and within minutes, I was sprinting downstairs.
Just as I reached the last step, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Where are you going this early in the morning?"
I turned to see Sanjay standing there, his expression curious. I hesitated for a second. There was no way I was going to tell him that my boss had once again cornered me with the same damn project and left me no choice but to comply.
"Work," I replied quickly, forcing a small smile. "Something similar to a nutritionist's job."
His brows furrowed. "Similar? But hey, at least you got the job you always dreamed of! Oh, and there's good news." His voice dropped slightly. "I cleared the debt. All thanks to Kathir Rathore sir."
Kathir Rathore.
Of course. I hadn't forgotten the way he handled the project, but hearing that our family was finally free from that burden brought an undeniable sense of relief.
"That's amazing, Sanjay. Really happy to hear that," I said sincerely, adjusting the strap of my bag. "Alright, I'm running late. We'll talk tonight!"
He nodded, and with that, I hurried out, hailed a taxi, and set off toward his house.
Inside the cab, my fingers twiddled restlessly in my lap. The city passed by in a blur, but my thoughts were fixated on what awaited me. Within minutes, the car rolled to a stop in front of a tall black entrance gate.
I stepped out, straightening my blouse, and approached the security guard, who greeted me with a knowing nod, as if he already expected my arrival. Without any questions, he pushed the gate open, granting me entry.
Yesterday, everything had been so rushed that I hadn't paid much attention to my surroundings. Now, I took a moment to observe.
The lawn was perfectly manicured, a deep shade of green stretching across the front yard. A sleek black McLaren and a striking red Bugatti sat neatly parked in the garage, their polished surfaces gleaming under the morning sun.
Taking a deep breath, I walked toward the house and paused in front of a grey door with intricate transparent patterns etched into it.
"Just stay calm."
I knocked, and almost immediately, the door swung open to reveal Kathir Rathore.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing a crimson red shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the crisp white collar contrasting sharply against his dark baggy pants. His eyes dragged over me, scanning from head to toe, before flickering to his watch.
"It's 9:56 AM," he stated flatly. "You're late."
His neutral tone lacked any warmth. Not even a simple 'good morning'—of course, that would require basic manners, which he clearly lacked.
I sighed, already annoyed. "I know. It's my first day, so it was a little difficult, but tomorrow I'll be here by—" I paused, realizing my slip. "9 AM—no, sorry! 8 AM!"
I forced a smile, though irritation simmered beneath it.
A smirk curled at his lips. "Good," he nodded slightly before stepping aside, leaving space for me to enter. Even then, he remained leaning against the doorframe, as if he had no intention of moving.
Shaking my head, I walked in, my eyes sweeping across the grand yet eerily quiet house.
This place is way too big for just him and his mom
I turned to him. "Where's your mom's medication list?"
"In her room," he replied simply, shutting the door behind us. "Come with me."
I nodded and followed him as we made our way upstairs.
For a CEO, he was surprisingly disorganized.
"What kind of CEO are you?" I asked, my voice deliberately loud. "You want every single file arranged neatly on your desk, yet when it comes to your mother's medical documents, you suddenly decide to sort them now? Unbelievable."
My words hung in the air, but he didn't even acknowledge them. No reaction, no retort—nothing.
Typical.
As we reached the spacious hallway, I noticed three doors on either side. Without hesitation, he strode toward one of them and pushed it open, stepping inside.
Kathir's mother lay on the bed, her breathing steady, her frail frame barely shifting beneath the thick comforter. Her wheelchair stood beside her bed, a silent reminder of her condition. The room smelled faintly of medicinal oils, and the soft hum of an air purifier filled the silence.
Kathir moved toward a drawer, his movements precise, controlled, as if he had done this a hundred times before. Pulling it open, he retrieved a few sheets of paper and handed them to me.
"Here is the list. Everything is arranged, make sure you don't miss anything, an—"
Before he could finish, I waved him off, already scanning through the documents. "Ha, I know," I muttered, engrossed.
When I finally looked up, he was leaning against the drawer, his gaze locked onto me, unreadable. A sharp breath left my lips. "Everything seems fine," I admitted, though something nagged at my mind.
"It would be better if she had some entertainment, you know? Like video games, cartoons, snacks, mu—"
As I unconsciously started listing ideas, Kathir arched an eyebrow before snapping his fingers. "All of that depends on how well you take care of my mother."
A confident chuckle escaped me. "Taking care of your mom isn't a big deal for me. We've already become good friends."
I turned toward his mother with a small smile. When had I started speaking to him like this? This house had some strange energy—it was either making me bold or stripping me of my usual restraint. Was it because Kathir Rathore needed my help? Or was I just relieved that the debt problem was finally resolved?
Kathir let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as if my words exhausted him. Then, in a flat voice, he added, "She can't talk. She was in a coma for two years and is now paralyzed."
My heart clenched at his words. I glanced at his mother again, watching her peaceful face, the slow rise and fall of her chest. My fingers tightened around the papers.
"Well… that's not a big deal!" I forced a smile, pushing past the heaviness in my chest. "I can come up with a secret code with her."
I had no control over my mouth at this point. The words just tumbled out. Kathir looked at me like I had lost my mind, his dark gaze scanning me up and down, probably debating whether I was serious or just plain crazy.
"You don't believe me?" I challenged, a playful glint in my eyes. "Wanna see a demo?"
Without waiting for his answer, I lifted two fingers from my right hand and moved them toward his face, aiming directly at his strikingly light brown eyes as if I wanted to poke them.
Before I could get any closer, his hand shot up, gripping my wrist firmly. His jaw clenched, his entire posture stiffened. "Stop it," he warned.
I held his gaze for a second longer before sighing dramatically and pulling my hand back. "Fine."
My eyes wandered around the room before landing back on him. "Can you show me the kitchen, Mr. Kathir Rathore?"
He nodded without a word, turning toward the door. I followed him, our footsteps echoing softly as we descended the staircase. The further we went, the colder the air seemed, sending a slight shiver down my spine.
When we finally stepped into the kitchen, I froze.
The place was massive. Grey cabinets lined the walls, sleek and modern, contrasting against the pristine white tiles. A digital clock hung on the wall, and a perfectly placed air-conditioning vent hummed softly above. The entire space screamed efficiency, yet something about it unsettled me.
"Wow…" I exhaled, a strange unease settling in my chest. "How am I supposed to cook alone in a kitchen this big? It's creepy."
Kathir's expression twisted into something unreadable, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
"Don't worry," he stated, voice steady. "There's a strong security system here. No one can enter without my permission."
I nodded, but my skepticism remained. "Yeah, I'm safe because of the security system… but what about ghosts?"
His jaw tightened, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
I crossed my arms, lowering my voice slightly as if sharing a secret. "I've read a lot of books and heard plenty of stories. These kinds of big houses always have something—some visible ghosts, some invisible."
I spoke casually, but my words carried a hidden jab. Of course, I wasn't talking about spirits. I was indirectly calling him the visible ghost haunting this house.
At first, he seemed oblivious, but then I saw it—the slow lowering of his brows, the realization dawning in his sharp eyes.
"Wait…" His gaze narrowed. "Are you calling me the visible ghost?"
The moment he figured it out, I grinned in triumph. "Ohhh, so you're agreeing that you are the visible ghost?" I clapped my hands together, my excitement bubbling over.
Before I could celebrate further, he moved.
In one swift motion, Kathir grabbed both my arms and yanked me closer. My breath hitched as I collided against his solid frame. His grip was firm, almost possessive, his jaw locked as he stared down at me.
"Stop it," he muttered, his voice dangerously low and steady."Don't you ever dare to cross your limit! Keep in your mind, that you're not safe when you're around me."
Something in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. My heartbeat picked up, and for the first time since I entered this house, I felt an unfamiliar tension wrap around me. His dark eyes held something intense—something unreadable.
I blinked, my mind scrambling to process his words.
Not safe? Around him?
He studied my face for a moment longer before releasing me, stepping back as if putting distance between us was necessary.
I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay composed. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I attempted to act unaffected.
"There's a room for you," he said, his voice back to its usual neutral tone. "If you ever feel tired, you can rest there. It's not too far from my mom's room. And you remember her name, right? Renuka Rathore."
I nodded, regaining my composure.
"This way," he added before turning on his heel.
Without another word, I followed him out of the kitchen, my mind still processing the warning hidden in his earlier words.
I followed Kathir out of the kitchen, stepping into a short hallway where another door stood closed. As we passed by, a faint noise reached my ears, making me freeze. Without thinking, I gripped Kathir's arm, my eyes widening as I turned to him.
He glanced down at my hand on his arm, then met my gaze with a questioning look. "What?"
"I heard something from this room," I whispered, nodding toward the closed door.
Kathir furrowed his brows. "This room?"
I nodded quickly. He reached for the doorknob, but panic shot through me, and I grabbed his hand to stop him.
"Wait! What if there's a thief inside? What if they hit you the second you open the door?"
Kathir gave me a deadpan look. "What?"
I ignored his skepticism. "Security systems can fail, or maybe the thief is smart enough to get past them! Wait, I need something—stay here!"
Without giving him a chance to react, I bolted back to the kitchen, scanning the space frantically. My eyes landed on a broom. Perfect. Grabbing it, I rushed back to the hallway, gripping the broom like a warrior preparing for battle.
Kathir was still standing by the door, watching me with amusement. His lips curved into a smirk as his thumb brushed against his brow, like he was trying to hold back a laugh.
I ignored his reaction and positioned myself beside him. "Alright. Once I attack the thief, you catch him and bash him, okay?"
Kathir didn't say a word—he just gave me a thumbs-up.
Something about his silence made me pause. "Wait… are you even strong enough to bash him?"
His expression darkened, jaw tightening as he stepped closer, making me instinctively step back.
"Fine, fine! You're strong, I get it," I mumbled. "I mean, look at you—you've got the body for it."
The irritation on his face deepened, but before he could say anything, he swung the door open. Without thinking, I shoved him aside and charged into the room, brandishing the broom with a loud battle cry.
My eyes darted around the space—red-painted walls, black-themed furniture—but no sign of an intruder.
Kathir stepped in behind me, lips parted like he was about to say something when another noise reached my ears.
"Shh!" I hissed, gripping the broom tightly. "I heard something again."
Kathir rolled his eyes and nodded toward the floor. "The thief you mean is that guy."
I followed his gaze and nearly jumped out of my skin.
A Shiba Inu stood there, staring at us with round, curious eyes.
"A dog?" I blurted out in disbelief.
Kathir clenched his jaw. "His name is Winston."
He knelt down, running a hand through Winston's fur with an unexpected gentleness. The dog wagged his tail and licked Kathir's fingers, earning a soft chuckle from him.
I blinked in shock. A real chuckle. A laugh that held nothing but warmth.
For a moment, my mind reeled back to a time when I used to admire that smile, but the person before me wasn't the same anymore. Reality hit me like a cold wave.
"You have a pet?" I asked, shaking off the thought.
Kathir stood up and dusted off his hands. "No. A brother."
I looked around, taking in the room properly this time. It wasn't just a place for Winston—it was a haven. Toys, pillows, blankets—every little detail screamed comfort.
Kathir walked over to a cabinet, pulled out some papers, and handed them to me. "Here. I've arranged everything about Winston, so if you have any questions, contact me."
I furrowed my brows, confused. "So my job isn't just taking care of your mom? I have to look after your do—" I caught myself, correcting, "—I mean, your brother too?"
Kathir nodded without hesitation. "He's part of this house. He'll roam around, and you have to take care of him. He can't ask for what he needs."
I exhaled sharply, rolling my eyes. "Of course. Anything else?"
Kathir smirked slightly. "I'll double your salary."
I turned my gaze to Winston, who tilted his head, looking at me with the most adorable expression.
Ugh.
I looked back at Kathir and sighed, finally nodding. "Fine. Whatever."
"Come with me. I'll show you your room."
I follow him out of Winston's room, and once again, we take the stairs to the first floor. He stops in front of a door directly opposite Renuka Aunty's room and pushes it open.
The room is spacious, with dark blue walls and a white theme that blends together perfectly. It feels sophisticated yet calming. The soft scent of fresh linen and something musky lingers in the air, wrapping around me like a quiet embrace. I can't even pretend to reject this room—it feels like it belongs to me.
"This is your room," Kathir announces. Then, with his usual cold tone, he adds, "And hopefully, you don't spend too much time here. Don't forget why I hired you."
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. "Speak after watching my performance."
The words slip out with confidence, and for a moment, I don't even recognize myself. Where is this coming from? Since when do I talk to him like this?
Kathir lifts his brows slightly, his lips twitching—like he's impressed. "Confident?"
I nod, standing my ground.
"Fine." He glances at his wristwatch, then meets my eyes again. "I have to go. And don't you dare try to enter my room. It's secured with a pin lock."
His voice dips lower as he leans in slightly, his presence suddenly heavier.
Curiosity flares in me. Why does he feel the need to warn me? What is he hiding? I tilt my head. "What's in that room?"
Kathir steps forward, closing the distance between us. For a split second, I feel the air between us shift—charged with something unreadable.
"Don't you dare," he murmurs.
I let out a dramatic sigh and roll my eyes. "Pfft… You said your room is locked with a pin. So how am I supposed to get in?"
Something flickers in his gaze—like I've thrown a challenge he wasn't expecting. He clenches his jaw.
"There's the problem," he muses, his voice neutral but sharp. "My mom once told me not to trust anyone. Especially people like you. Impossible to trust."
The smirk that plays on his lips is subtle, but it cuts deep. It's mocking, sarcastic—like he enjoys reminding me where I stand in his world.
I stare at him, my jaw dropping slightly. People like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"What?" I scoff.
Kathir doesn't bother explaining. He takes a step back, casually dusting off his sleeves.
"Alright, go do your job. And don't get too happy about your brother's project deal. I've only paid for half of his work. The rest is still in progress," he says, his voice indifferent. Then, he adds without even looking at me, "I can cancel anytime."
And just like that, he turns on his heels and walks away, leaving me standing there, stunned.
"What?" I mutter under my breath.
Frustration coils in my chest. I drop onto the bed and run my fingers through my hair, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. This man—he always knows exactly how to get under my skin.
I exhale sharply and stare at the ceiling.
Sorry for the long chapter, but I didn't want to miss any scene. ✨ Hope you enjoy reading! ❤️