As soon as the last bite of food was taken and Kinjal dropped her spoon onto the plate, she opened her mouth to speak, ready to interrogate Shubman about the reason for his sudden dinner treat. But before a single word could escape her lips, Shubman sprang up from his chair, gathering their empty plates in one quick motion.

"I'll wash the dishes first, señorita," he said, flashing her a smug grin as he rushed into the kitchen before she could protest.

Kinjal blinked, momentarily stunned. "What the—? Shubman!" she called after him, her brows furrowing.

She pushed herself up from the table and followed him into the kitchen, ready to pull him away from the sink and remind him that he wasn’t in his own house. But when she stepped into the small kitchen, the words died on her tongue.

There he was—Shubman Gill, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the veins along his forearms as his hands moved effortlessly under the running water. His messy black hair fell carelessly over his forehead, and his brow was creased in concentration as he scrubbed the plates.

Kinjal stopped near the counter and quietly hopped up, sitting on it with her legs dangling. She crossed her arms, pretending to be annoyed as she watched him work. But truthfully, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

This was… different.

For the first time, Shubman looked domestic. There was no teasing smirk plastered on his face, no arrogant quip to irritate her. He was focused, silently washing the dishes as though he belonged there, like this wasn’t unusual at all.

Her gaze lingered on his rolled-up sleeves again. When did veins become so attractive? she thought to herself, frustrated at her own wandering mind. She shifted slightly, swallowing as her eyes trailed to his hands—strong hands moving under the stream of water, soap bubbling up and rinsing away.

The tension in her chest tightened, and she immediately tried to shake it off. Stop it, Kinjal. It’s just Shubman Gill, she scolded herself internally. But her eyes betrayed her, once again stealing glances at him.

Shubman, oblivious to her sudden silence, hummed faintly as he scrubbed a bowl. The sound, so casual and natural, filled the small kitchen, and Kinjal found herself leaning back slightly, tilting her head as she stared at him.

What was it about this scene that made her feel so… different?

Her lips parted slightly as she realized—she’d never seen him like this before. Shubman had always been an annoying presence in her life, with his quick wit and his maddening ability to push her buttons. But seeing him like this—quiet, focused, so at home in her kitchen—it did something to her.

Kinjal’s heart skipped a beat, and her face burned. She hated to admit it, but damn, he looked good. Like… husband material good.

She quickly looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something she’d regret. Her eyes darted back toward him again, though—just for a second—and there he was, still lost in his task, a small smile playing at his lips.

For a brief moment, Kinjal wondered what it would feel like to have someone like Shubman in her life—someone who could share these small, quiet moments.

Her thoughts were cut off when Shubman suddenly turned to look at her, a teasing glint in his eyes as he caught her staring.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked smugly, his voice breaking the silence.

Kinjal’s cheeks flared red, and she scoffed, straightening up. "Don’t flatter yourself, Gill. I’m just waiting for you to finish so you can stop acting like you own the place."

He smirked, wiping his soapy hands on a towel. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kinjal."

Kinjal rolled her eyes dramatically, but she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest as he turned back to finish the last dish. She watched him silently again, this time with her gaze softer, though she’d never let him know.

There was something about tonight—something she couldn’t put into words. And for once, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to figure it out.