"HAIII RE NANDKISHORE!"
Khushi flinched so hard her pani puri exploded in her hand.
> "Buaji?" she squeaked, spinning around to face the tornado in a pink cotton saree.
> "What is this? YOU. GOLGAPPA. WITH LAAD GOVERNOR HIMSELF?!"
Buaji marched over like a woman on a mission. Arnav blinked. Honestly, he looked like he was calculating escape routes.
> "Buaji! It's not what it looks like!" Khushi blurted, face turning tomato red.
> "It looks like you're feeding rich thakurs spicy bombs on a holy day!"
Arnav, to his credit, offered a polite half-smile. "Namaste, aunty."
> "NAMASTE won't digest the gossip, bitwa!" Buaji snapped. "First temples, now golgappas? What's next? Karwa Chauth?"
Khushi shrieked, "BUAJI!"
The golgappa vendor chuckled in the background. "Bhabhi-jee bhi keh dete toh kaam chal jata."
> "NO ONE IS ANYONE'S BHAABHI!" Khushi screeched, slamming down the plate.
> "Yet," Arnav muttered under his breath, lips twitching.
Khushi shot him a glare that could curdle milk.
Buaji looked between them. "Payal will hear about this. Jalebi ladki, let go home. And you"—pointing at Arnav—"stop looking like a Shahrukh Khan in your angrezi coat!"
She dragged Khushi off like a hijacked shopping trolley.
Arnav just stood there, watching the chaos swirl away from him, and then calmly ordered two more golgappas.
> "Worth it," he murmured, smiling to himself.
---
Buaji, clutching her dupatta like it's holy armor:
> "GARIMA! PAYALIYA! TUM SAB SUNO!
Our Khushi was with a man!"
She gasped so hard she choked on her own spit.
"A **man in a suit!
At a golgappa stall!
AT SEVEN IN THE MORNING!"
"Is this how shaadi proposals work now? With street snacks and stolen eye contact!?"
Garima blinked.
> "Khushi? Golgappas? At a stall? With a man?"
Buaji dramatically threw one hand to her forehead:
> "Not just any man, Garima!
He looked like he fell out of a hero poster—dark sunglasses, paanch hazaar ka shirt, and the way he ate that golgappa…
I swear on my pressure cooker, he looked like he was seducing the chutney!"
Payal, holding a thali:
> "Wait… was it the same man from the temple? The one who stared at Khushi like he forgot how to blink?"
Khushi walked in then. Wrong time.
Buaji spun like a hawk.
> "SANKADEVI!"
"Where were you going?
Why didn't you tell them you were feeding golgappas to Laad Governor himself?!"
Khushi:
> "Buaji! It was not like that—he just… showed up. Like a virus."
Payal snorted.
> "A virus in Gucci, apparently."
Buaji wagged her finger like it was a wand of judgement:
> "Next time you feed a man spicy snacks, ask him his intentions too!
You think I was born yesterday, haan?
Temple first, food next... what's next?
Havan and pheras?!"
Khushi, fuming like chili pepper:
> "BUAJI!"
"We're not getting married! He just… looked lost!"
Buaji's eyes narrowed.
> "Lost? He's a businessman!"
"Mark my words, this one's not just here for temple blessings. He's here for you."
Garima (giggling softly):
> "He ate street food? In a suit? Must be love."
Buaji to Shashi
> "Shashi babua, I'm telling you—something's fishy. And it's not from the kitchen."
"Our Khushi is radiating heroine vibes. That man's gaze? Bhagwan ki kasam, it had marriage written in it! Nandkishore!"
Khushi screamed .
> "DEVI MAIYYA SAVE ME FROM MY OWN FAMILY!"
---
Raizada Mansion
Lavanya was sprawled across the divan like a drama queen mid-meltdown.
> "Ugh, Anjali di, your brother is so boring lately. All he does is stare at his phone and pretend he's not staring at it."
Anjali, sitting on the armrest with her knitting, smiled knowingly.
> "He's thinking about someone."
Lavanya sat up like a meerkat on alert.
> "Who? What? Wait—what do you know that I don't?!"
> "Let's just say," Anjali said, tying off a loop, "I saw him smiling at a temple."
> "Your brother? Smiling? At a temple?" Lavanya's eyes bulged.
At that moment, Arnav's phone buzzed on the dining table. He wasn't around.
Lavanya, being Lavanya, lunged for it and saw a name flash: Aman.
Anjali gasped. "Let me guess—Aman knows everything!"
Lavanya smirked. "And he owes me for that time I covered his Delhi Fashion Week disaster."
[Incoming Call: Aman]
Lavanya picked up. "Hi, yes, Aman-baby? Gossip hotline speaking. Spill."
> "Ma'am?"
> "Cut the act. What did ASR do in temple? He came back looking like he'd seen a angel."
> "...He ate golgappas with a girl outside the temple," Aman whispered, sounding like he was betraying a national secret.
> "Who is she?!"
> "Her name is Khushi Kumari Gupta. She threw a spoon at her sister and made ASR choke on paani puri."
> "I LOVE HER ALREADY," Lavanya shrieked. "SEND LOCATION. SEND HER BIRTH CHART."
> "Ma'am, I also saw him sketching her on the car back—"
> "WHAT?! ARNAV. SKETCHING. A GIRL?! ANJALI DI commee!"
---
The mansion was peaceful. Almost.
Except for the sound of Lavanya rolling around on the living room couch like a teen with gossip fever.
> "He ate golgappas," she said dramatically. "Publicly. In daylight. In street. With a girl. I repeat—THE Arnav Singh Raizada has eaten street food voluntarily. With a human female."
Anjali entered with her pooja thali, lips twitching.
> "Chhote hasn't even let me eat golgappa in peace. He called it 'bacteria balloons.'"
Lavanya gasped. "AND he didn't sanitize his hands after."
> "No hand sanitizer?! This is love. Rabba Ve levels of love."
Just then, the man in question walked in—shirt slightly rumpled, top button undone, eyes distracted, jaw less clenched than usual.
He looked... mellow.
Anjali raised an eyebrow. "Someone looks like they just met God."
> "Or Devi Maiyya in a churidar," Lavanya chimed in, sipping her juice.
> "Did she smile again?" Anjali asked gently.
Arnav blinked. "She laughed."
He didn't mean to say it out loud. But there it was. Hanging in the air like a confession.
Lavanya dropped her phone.
Anjali clasped her hands dramatically. "Haaye Rabba."
> "You've been hit," Lavanya said. "Full-on filmy hit. This is it. Game over."
Arnav just shook his head and walked past them toward the stairs.
Lavanya leaned in. "And you're in loooooove."
> "I'm going to my room," he muttered, clearly done with the Raizada Sisters' commentary.
> "To sketch her again?" Lavanya yelled after him. "Use more glitter this time!"
Arnav didn't reply.
But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
And that said it all.
---
Arnav's Room –
Later that night, Arnav sat at his desk, sketching again. Soft pencil strokes captured Khushi mid-laugh, her dupatta in motion. He hadn't meant to draw her again. Or again. Or again.
He opened a fresh page, trying to work on something else.
Ended up drawing her holding a golgappa with a triumphant grin.
The man was doomed.
Suddenly—knock knock—Anjali barged in with Lavanya without warning.
> "We brought you halwa!" Anjali said sweetly.
Arnav immediately slammed the sketchbook shut.
> "I didn't ask for halwa."
> "No one asks for halwa, Chhote. It just… happens," she chirped, placing the tray down.
Lavanya spotted something—a corner of the sketchbook poking out. She lunged, but Arnav snatched it away.
> "Don't," he warned.
> "I KNEW IT!" Lavanya screamed. "GOLGAPPA GIRL HAS STRUCK! Show me the sketch or I'll tell your girl that you once kissed a mirror."
> "I was seven!" Arnav groaned.
> "Still counts!"
> "Leave my room," he deadpanned.
But as they walked out, Anjali turned back and smiled at him gently.
> "She must be very special… for you to see her even with your eyes closed."
He didn't reply. Just looked at the sketchbook.
And smiled.
---
Khushi lay on her bed, hugging her pillow like it had all the answers to her existential romantic crisis.
> "He's not attractive," she told the ceiling. "Not at all. His cheekbones are just… pointy. Dangerous. Like weapons."
She rolled over.
> "And that suit? Pfft. Too fitted. Too expensive. Too... Arnav-y."
Her voice wavered.
> "And when he said 'You'd be surprised what I can handle'... that wasn't flirting. That was just... uh... spice trauma talking!"
Her pillow didn't respond.
Her brain did.
Flashback:
His fingers brushing hers as he took the pani puri.
The way his lashes looked too long for someone that annoying.
How he said "Only you" without blinking.
> "NOPE!" she said aloud, sitting up so fast her dupatta slid off the bed.
> "This is temporary insanity. Caused by golgappa gas and overexposure to stubble."
She grabbed her diary and scribbled:
"Khushi Kumari Gupta will NOT fall for Laad Governor."
Then she drew a big skull emoji.
Then she drew his eyes.
Then she sighed.
> "Hai Devi Maiyya... I'm doomed."
---
The world outside was asleep.
But inside Arnav Singh Raizada's room?
Chaos. Dressed in Armani.
The man was sprawled on his bed — laptop open, files untouched, phone in hand.
Not because of business.
No. That ship had sailed when a certain jalebi-throwing, golgappa-destroying girl walked into his life like a walking tornado in a churidar.
He was scrolling her Instagram. Again. Not that she had much posted—mostly quotes, rangoli, jalebis and one cursed video of her teaching Buaji to make DIY rose water.
> "Aman," he typed suddenly.
"Find out her favorite dessert. Urgent."
Sent.
He stared at the screen.
No reply.
1 minute.
Still nothing.
He called.
A groggy voice answered, "Sir?"
> Arnav: "Why are you asleep?"
> Aman (confused): "Because… it's 1 AM?"
> Arnav: "You think love operates on office hours, Aman?"
> Aman (awake now): "Wait, WHAT?!"
Arnav rolled his eyes, sat up, ran a hand through his hair.
> "Forget it. I just need to know what dessert Khushi Kumari Gupta would never say no to. Dig through anything. Find out."
> "Sir, I—how would I even—"
> "She has a sister. Use sources. Invent a cousin. Lie if you must. I want results before sunrise."
> "Y-Yes, sir. Absolutely."
Aman at home, wearing bunny slippers, texting Payal from a fake foodie account.
> "Hi! We're doing a Lucknow sweet-lovers poll for a local magazine! What's your sister's #1 dessert of all time? 😄🍬"
Payal replied in under 10 seconds.
> "Jalebis. It's always jalebis. Why? Is there a contest? Can we win a mixer-grinder?"
--
Raizada Mansion
Aman: "It's jalebis. Always."
Arnav stared at the message, already picking up his car keys.
> "Round two," he murmured, "coming up."
---