Siddharth's POV
It started with a simple sentence.
"I'll cook dinner tonight."
What I meant was:
She'd cook, I'd watch, and pretend to be helpful while scrolling emails.
What actually happened?
World War Masala.
Nandini's POV
The man doesn't even know the difference between jeera and mustard seeds.
So obviously, I asked him to pass the chili powder.
He passed cinnamon.
"Siddu," I said, slowly. "This is not even the same color."
He shrugged, smirking. "It's brown. Close enough."
Oh, he thinks he's funny?
Fine. Let's play.
I flicked a bit of flour on his shirt.
His eyes narrowed.
"You sure you wanna do that, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart?
Since when did he—
Before I could react, he dipped two fingers in the flour and booped my nose.
Siddharth's POV
I should've known she'd retaliate.
Next thing I knew, there was tomato paste on my cheek and coriander in my hair.
I didn't even LIKE coriander.
But she was laughing.
Laughing so hard she leaned against the counter, holding her stomach, nose covered in flour, hair messy, eyes crinkled.
I swear, I forgot how to breathe.
So I walked up to her.
Cornered her gently.
Her laughter died down.
She looked up.
"Having fun?" I murmured.
"A little," she whispered.
I reached past her to turn off the gas. Our bodies brushed.
She inhaled sharply.
I didn't move.
Nandini's POV
Okay listen. I know I was being flirty. I KNOW.
But now he was way too close, and I was melting like butter on a tawa.
He still had flour on his cheek. So I reached up.
Bad idea.
Because the moment I touched his skin, his hand landed on my waist.
Our eyes met.
And the whole room went very, very silent.
Except my heartbeat. That was doing bhangra in my chest.
"You missed a spot," I said breathlessly, wiping his face.
"You did too," he whispered.
Then his thumb traced my lip—a tiny smudge of sauce, he said.
Liar.
He just wanted an excuse to touch me.
And I wasn't complaining.
Siddharth's POV
I could've kissed her. Right there.
The urge was crawling under my skin.
But I waited.
Because the way she was looking at me?
Like she wasn't scared anymore. Like she wanted me to close the distance.
So I leaned in.
And she—
"BHAIYA DINNER READY?"
A loud voice echoed from the front door.
It was Aarav.13
Of course. Of course it was.
We jumped apart like schoolkids caught cheating on a test.
"I'm killing your friend," she muttered.
"Get in line," I said.
Later That Night
We didn't speak much at dinner.
But before sleeping, I placed a kiss on her forehead.
She held my hand.
And whispered,
" Next time, We lock the door."