AUTHOR’S POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Abhimaan had spent the night outside his room , completely forgot about all his meeting and flight to china just caring about the girl he met last night.

He had seven bedrooms in this lavish penthouse, yet he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in any of them. Instead, he stayed on the couch in the living room , restless. His mind was tangled in thoughts about the fragile girl sleeping inside his room.

As the first rays of morning crept through the curtains, he stirred awake. The very first thing he did was quietly open her door, just a crack, to check on her.

Gauri was curled up under the quilt, sleeping soundly. Her face looked peaceful, almost childlike, though faint tear stains still clung to her cheeks.

Relieved, he closed the door softly and went to his private gym.

After a long, intense workout, Abhimaan stood drenched in sweat. He turned on the AC, letting the cool air calm his burning muscles. But his stomach growled — he hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

"She must be hungry too," he thought.

So, he decided to wake her up and ask what she’d like for breakfast.

When he entered the room again, she was still asleep. With a gentle tone, he said,

“Gaurii… Gaurii, wake up. It’s morning.”

She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open. But the moment her gaze fell on him, she jolted upright with a gasp and shouted,

“Who are you?!”

Abhimaan froze, startled by her reaction. Before he could respond, she looked around the room wildly. Recognition slowly dawned on her face as the memories of last night returned.

Her voice trembled with both fear and anger as she demanded,

“What… what are you doing in here?”

He raised his hands calmly, trying to ease her panic.

“Relax, Gaurii. It’s morning, and I just came to ask what you’d like for breakfast. That’s all.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly as realization hit her — she had fallen asleep despite trying so hard to stay awake. And he hadn’t harmed her.

Embarrassed, she murmured, “I… I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Abhimaan gave her a small, understanding nod. He knew trust wouldn’t come overnight.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly. “And you don’t have to be scared of me, Gaurii. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

She only nodded faintly, still unsure, but she didn’t argue.

“Okay,” he continued, clapping his hands lightly. “Forget all this now. You should get up. You must be hungry. I’ll order something for breakfast. You can freshen up first.”

As she tried to get out of bed, a sharp pain shot through her heel. She winced, clutching the quilt.

Abhimaan immediately stepped forward. “Oh right, you can’t walk. Wait, I’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll manage.”

But he didn’t listen. Without another word, he gently scooped her into his arms.

Her breath caught — no man had ever touched her with such care before.

He carried her to the bathroom and set her down carefully on the toilet seat.

“I’ll wait outside. Call me when you’re done,” he said firmly.

She only nodded, too overwhelmed to respond.

Inside, Gaurii stared at the closed door, her heart pounding.

"Who is this man? Why does he feel so different… so safe… yet so strange?"

She couldn’t bring herself to call him when she was done. The very idea made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

So, gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced herself to walk out on her own — every step a struggle.

Abhimaan was sitting on the bed, replying to emails when he heard the door creak open.

He looked up sharply, surprised to see her hobbling out.

“You could’ve called me,” he scolded lightly, rushing to support her.

Gaurii gave him a small, shy smile. “It’s okay… I managed.”

He sighed, frustrated but let it go. “Fine. Now, tell me what you want to eat. I’ll order breakfast.”

She hesitated, chewing her lip nervously.

“Uhmm… can’t we have something… home-cooked instead?”

Abhimaan gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Actually… I don’t know how to cook. And my chef… well, he quit recently.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” he added quickly. “The takeout here is good. You’ll like it.”

But Gaurii’s stomach twisted. Takeout meant outside food.

She couldn’t risk eating anything that might harm her baby.

She shook her head firmly. “No… then I don’t want to eat. I only eat home-cooked food.”

Abhimaan groaned. “But there’s no one to cook! So who’s going to make it?”

She glanced down timidly. “I… I know how to cook. Can I… maybe cook something?”

His expression turned sharp immediately.

“No. Absolutely not. You’re hurt, Gaurii. You are not cooking.”

Her lips jutted into a pout. “Then I won’t eat anything either.”

Abhimaan took a deep breath, torn between frustration and concern.

He couldn’t let her go hungry.

“Fine,” he muttered finally. “But right now, there’s no chef or cook here, and I can’t magically become one overnight.”

She stayed silent, thinking hard.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. His eyes lit up.

“Wait. You know how to cook, right?”

She nodded slowly, suspicious.

“Then perfect! You can tell me what to do, and I’ll cook.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? You… you’ll cook? For me?”

He grinned at her shocked expression. “Why not? Just tell me what to do, and I’ll handle it.”

Before she could protest, he scooped her up again.

“Where are you taking me now?” she asked breathlessly.

“To the kitchen,” he said simply.

The open kitchen was part of a huge living space — a sleek grey couch, a massive flat-screen TV, a small bar in the corner, and a lavish six-seater dining table right in front.

He set her gently on the kitchen platform.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “what do you want to eat?”

Gaurii hesitated. “…Whatever you like.”

He chuckled thinking “Trust me, you won’t be able to eat what I normally have.”

“Tell me,” he urged again, “we’ll make what you want. I can eat anything.”

That was a big, fat lie. Abhimaan never touched traditional Indian food because he thinks— too oily, too carb-heavy, too… messy for his taste.

But he didn’t care right now.

“Uhmm… how about poha?” she asked softly.

He blinked, completely lost. Poha? What even is that?

Still, he forced a smile. “Yeah, sure! Just… tell me what ingredients we need.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t have anything at home?”

He shook his head sheepishly. “Nope. Say it quickly, I’ll order everything.”

As she listed the items, he tapped them into his phone.

Halfway through, she shivered and hugged herself.

“Your house is so cold,” she muttered.

Abhimaan frowned, then realized. “Oh, it’s just the AC. Let me turn it off.”

As he adjusted the settings, she asked shyly,

“Umm… do you have any clothes for women? Something… covering?”

He paused, considering.

“No, but…” he said thoughtfully, “…I can call my designer. She’s a good person — trustworthy. She can bring you some clothes and other things you might need for a few days. Later, I’ll take you shopping by myself.”

Gaurii blinked, overwhelmed by how much he was offering. She simply nodded, unable to form words.

Without wasting time, Abhimaan picked up his phone and called his designer, instructing her to come over immediately with clothes and supplies.

For the first time that morning, Gaurii allowed herself to breathe a little easier.

Maybe… just maybe, this man really was her savior.

After some time, there was a knock at the door.

A delivery boy had arrived with the ingredients Abhimaan had ordered.

He quickly took the bags, set them on the kitchen counter, and started arranging everything while Gaurii watched silently, her eyes wide at the sheer number of things he’d ordered just to make one simple dish.

Once everything was ready, Gaurii softly began instructing him.

“First… wash these vegetables. Then chop them finely, like this,” she said, demonstrating with her hands.

Abhimaan, who had never chopped anything in his life except maybe a gym membership card, struggled hilariously with the knife. His movements were awkward and stiff, but he followed her instructions to the letter.

“Careful! Not too big,” she corrected gently, suppressing a small smile.

After chopping, she guided him step by step.

“Now pour some oil into the vessel… wait, not too much!”

Abhimaan muttered under his breath, “How much is too much? You said some!”

She giggled softly, the sound like a fragile bell. It was the first real laugh he’d heard from her, and for a moment, his chest tightened.

As the aroma of sautéing spices filled the kitchen, Abhimaan’s phone began to ring insistently on the counter.

Gaurii glanced at it, then at him.

“Your phone is ringing,” she said. “You should answer it. I’ll manage from here. You’ve already done most of the work. Now I just need to mix everything together.”

He hesitated, his brows furrowed. “Are you sure? You’ll be able to cook without putting your feet on the floor?”

She nodded confidently. “Yes, I can manage. Go ahead.”

Reluctantly, Abhimaan stepped out to take the call. But even as he walked away, his eyes kept flickering back to her, watching to make sure she was safe.

It was his office calling.

“Sir, you missed your china flight. I have arranged an urgent meeting today with them for you , ” his P.A., Rajeev, informed.

Abhimaan’s voice turned sharp and final.

“I’m busy. I won’t come to the office today, and there will be no work from home either.”

Rajeev was stunned.

What? No work at all? Even when Abhimaan’s mother visited him , he never took a full day off.

Before Rajeev could say anything, Abhimaan added,

“Also, find me a chef who can cook proper Indian food — neatly and deliciously. I want someone trustworthy with a clean background. If there isn’t a chef here by tomorrow morning, you’re fired.”

Rajeev’s mouth went dry. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

The call disconnected, leaving Rajeev in complete shock.

What on earth has gotten into him?

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Gaurii was carefully stirring the poha. Her movements were graceful despite her pain, her face glowing softly in the warm morning light.

When Abhimaan returned, she smiled faintly and said,

“Can you pass me a spoon, please?”

He handed her one. She scooped up a small portion of the steaming poha, gently blew on it to cool it down, and then held it near his lips.

“Taste it,” she urged softly.

Abhimaan froze. This was uncharted territory for him — he had never tasted Indian food like this before. But seeing her hopeful eyes, he couldn’t refuse.

He leaned forward and took the bite.

The flavors exploded on his tongue — tangy, spicy, completely foreign. He had no idea what to make of it.

“Uhm… it’s fine,” he said carefully, trying not to hurt her feelings.

Gaurii frowned. “Fine? What does that even mean? Tell me properly — is it good or should I add something?”

Caught, he scrambled for words. “Uh… maybe… something’s missing?”

Rolling her eyes, she took a bite herself.

“Ah! Lemon!” she declared.

She quickly squeezed fresh lemon juice over the poha, mixed it well, and handed him the spoon again.

“This will make it perfect.”

Once the dish was ready, Abhimaan grabbed two plates. Gaurii sprinkled chopped onions and crunchy namkeen on top, completing the dish with a homely touch.

“Hold the plates,” he instructed.

She carefully balanced them in her hands while he lifted her into his arms yet again.

“Where are we going now?” she asked, her cheeks warming.

“To eat, obviously,” he replied casually, as though carrying her was the most natural thing in the world.

He set her gently on the couch, then sat beside her. She handed him a plate while keeping one for herself.

As Gaurii eagerly took her first bite, her eyes sparkled with delight.

“This… this is perfect,” she whispered, almost like a prayer.

Abhimaan, on the other hand, just stared at his plate suspiciously.

She noticed his hesitation and asked,

“What happened? Why aren’t you eating? Did you not like the taste?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Then, forcing a smile, he scooped up a bite and put it in his mouth.

The taste was… strange. Too many spices, too soft, nothing like the protein-packed, bland meals he was used to. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t his kind of food.

Still, he chewed and swallowed without a word.

As he glanced sideways, his gaze caught on Gaurii.

She was eating with such pure joy, her face glowing with contentment as if this simple meal was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Something inside him shifted.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter what the food tasted like.

He wasn’t eating for himself anymore.

He took another bite, then another — not because he liked it, but because watching her eat happily was reason enough.

Her smile had become his favorite flavor.

As they ate, the lift bell rang. The same designer from before stepped in, accompanied by two assistants. Abhimaan straightened his posture and nodded at them. “She is the person,” he said.

The designer took a seat across from Gaurii while Abhimaan sat beside her. “Gaurii, what kind of clothes would you like to wear?” he asked.

Gaurii smiled nervously. “Uh… something modest… maybe sarees.”

Abhimaan studied her for a moment. “You can also try other styles—kurtis, shirts, long dresses, anything modest,” he suggested.

She looked down, unsure , because she never explored this world. She was always in her saree after marriage and before always in kurti . Before she could continue, he ordered, “Prepare all colors that would suit her for salwar kameez, sarees, kurtis, palazzos, leggings…”

“No, no… this much is enough,” she interrupted, and Abhimaan smiled at her words, knowing these clothes would suffice for now. After a few weeks, once she had settled, he would take her shopping.

“Do you have any clothes in her size for now ?” he asked the designer.

“Yes, but not kurtis or sarees—only wide pants, oversized shirts, and crop tops,” she replied and her assistants started to show them to Gaurii.

Abhimaan glanced at her. “ The pants and oversized shirts are enough for now you can take the rest ,” he instructed and they packed the clothes and then when the designer stood up for leaving Gaurii hesitated as if she wanted to say something while he sensed her hesitation .

“What’s wrong? Do you want something else?” he asked.

She nodded faintly, and the designer paused. Gaurii looked down, shyly whispering, “Uh… undergarments too.”

Abhimaan’s heart warmed at her modesty. Her shyness made him admire her even more. Before he could respond, the designer said, “Okay, Mrs. Greyson.”

Gaurii froze. Abhimaan looked away and coughed lightly, then said, “Prepare a complete wardrobe for her—everything a woman might need, from clothes to footwear, makeup, everything.”

The designer nodded, shook his hand, and left. Gaurii finally understood why she had been addressed as Mrs. Greyson.

Abhimaan turned to her. “You should change and get comfortable.”

Gaurii tried to stand, but he scooped her up in his arms. “Let me help you,” he said, carrying her up the small staircase to the room. He set her gently on the bed. “I’ll wait outside. Call me when you’re done.”

She nodded and changed in the clothes . After a while, she called, “You can come in.”

Abhimaan entered and saw Gaurii she was looking ethereal in those wide pants and oversized shirt the journey from seeing her in a torn saree to in his shirt and now in these clothes just making him more and more mesmerized and she interrupted his thoughts and said softly, “Thank you so much… you’re helping me without expecting anything in return, neither do we know each other nor do we have any relation and now I feel like I’m becoming a burden.”

He sat beside her with a calm smile and said “You’re right. We don’t have a relation… so should we make one?”

Gaurii blinked, confused, her mind immediately wary thinking about the worst possibility which can happen now but before he could say anything , he continued, smiling gently, “I don’t know what kind of men you’ve dealt with before, but I promise I’m not like them. You can take your time to trust me.”

As he turned to leave, Gaurii grabbed his hand. Then, letting go, she said softly, “Sorry for judging you…”

Abhimaan leaned closer. “You don’t have to. Just be my friend.”

Gaurii smiled, relief washing over her. “Okay… I’ll be your friend.”

“Good,” he said. “From now on, Gaurii, you don't have to think before speaking, or worrying about being judged—I won’t judge you. We’ll talk freely, okay?”

She nodded with a smile, feeling a rare peace. Abhimaan continued, “So… do you want to explore your new house?”

Gaurii’s nervous face softened. “Yeah… sure.”

.・゜゜・

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Hello Everyone !!!!

Hope you all liked the chapter of my third book

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CHRONIC

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