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She decided on Semolina halwa for the prasad. But where did they keep the semolina? Spying a movable ladder, Maya climbed up to check the upper cabinets. Engrossed in her search, she didn't notice Ranveer watching her admiringly from the doorway as she stretched and balanced precariously on the unsteady ladder.
When it began shaking hazardously, Ranveer tensed, ready to intervene. Before he could react, Maya regained her footing, but the ladder teetered again. This time she plunged backwards with a cry. In an instant, Ranveer was there, catching her safely in his arms before she could hit the floor.
“You?” Maya exhaled in surprise.
Ranveer set her down as she struggled upright. “That's no way to thank someone for preventing a disastrous fall,” he chided.
“What are you doing here?” Maya demanded, flustered.
“This is my house, my kitchen,” Ranveer reminded, closing the distance between them.
“But-”
“I understand sharing the bedroom with me is off-limits for you. But can we at least have a truce in the kitchen?”
Maya bristled at his suggestive reference. “But I don't need your help.”
“Nor am I offering it. But this must be a joint effort to complete the ritual,” Ranveer countered.
“Since when do you care about such traditions?” Maya challenged.
“Since Dhruv reminded me that my mother believed in them,” Ranveer admitted.
Maya sighed, softening. “Fine, we'll do this together.”
Ranveer approved, relishing this new domestic dynamic with the woman he desired. When asked her plan, Maya suggested semolina Halwa. Ranveer tensed, remembering his mother's signature preparation of the same dish.
Unable to locate ingredients herself, Maya allowed Ranveer to summon the chef, who retrieved everything required. Once alone again, Ranveer offered an apron to Maya, acquiescing to his kitchen rules. Maya tied the apron around her waist, fumbling with the strings in back.
“Allow me,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. Before she could protest, his hands replaced hers, nimbly tying the apron for her. Maya shivered as his fingers grazed her lower back before withdrawing.
“There,” Ranveer said softly. “A perfect fit.”
Flustered, Maya turned to face him. “I could have managed alone.”
“But where's the team spirit in that?” Ranveer countered with a devastating smile. “Partners help each other.”
His eyes smoldered as he emphasized the word ‘partners.’ Maya's pulse quickened. She busied herself organizing ingredients to escape his potent gaze.
“What can I do?” Ranveer leaned in to ask, his cheek nearly brushing hers.
“Nuts. You can slice the nuts.”
“Okay,” Ranveer purred, trailing a fingertip down her arm before moving away.
Maya shivered, trying to ignore Ranveer's motions as he precisely sliced the nuts beside her. They commenced their unlikely kitchen partnership, Maya occasionally stealing glances at Ranveer focused intently on his assigned duty.
As she stirred the simmering semolina, her dupatta kept blowing back from the air duct above, the gauzy fabric gently caressing Ranveer's face. He brushed it aside twice, but the third time it fluttered against his cheek, Ranveer reached out and removed the dupatta from her neck, stopping its bothersome motions.
Feeling the tug at her neckline, Maya shot him an irritated frown. “Stop misbehaving, Ranveer,” she demanded in annoyance.
“Nothing new for me,” Ranveer dismissed casually, keeping the dupatta aside despite Maya's efforts to retrieve it.
“Ranveer give it back,” she scolded.
“You’re still quite covered up, Maya. No need to wear this while cooking at least.”
His bold directive made Maya's heart race, though she refused to let it show.
