Ram took a tentative step inside, the scent of flowers enveloping him. "Hi," he said, his voice almost tentative, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

Priya straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Hello," she replied, her voice cautious yet curious. "Can I help you with something?"

Ram cleared his throat, glancing around the shop before meeting her gaze again. "I was just passing by and saw your shop. It's... beautiful," he said, genuinely impressed.

"Thank you," Priya responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "We just opened today."

For a moment, they stood there in a comfortable silence, the air between them charged with unspoken thoughts. Ram finally broke the silence, his tone softer than usual. "Thank you, by the way, for what you did at the coffee shop."

Priya shrugged lightly. "It was nothing. Just a small gesture."

"It meant more than you know," Ram admitted, his gaze earnest.

Priya studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're welcome."

As they stood there, surrounded by the fragrant blooms and the quiet ambiance of the shop, something unspoken passed between them. A connection, fragile yet undeniable, began to form.  

Ram paused at the door, then turned back to Priya, his curiosity piqued. "I haven't seen you around here before," he remarked.

Priya shook her head, a polite smile on her face. "No, I live a little far from here."

"What about you?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"I have my office two blocks away," Ram replied, gesturing vaguely down the street.

At his words, a light of recognition flickered in Priya's eyes. She remembered the scene vividly—the arrogant man who had pushed his worker without a second thought. "Can I ask you something?" she said, her tone shifting.

Ram nodded, curiosity mingling with a hint of apprehension. "Yes, what?"

"You were that guy, right? The one who pushed that old man the other day?" Priya asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Ram blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

Priya's expression turned stern as she continued, "You didn't even stop to help him. You just walked away."

Ram's memory clicked, and he realized she was the same woman who had made that cutting remark. "I didn't do it on purpose," he said defensively.

"Then why didn't you stop and help him?" Priya retorted. "You just walked away like it didn't matter."

"Don't tell me what to do," Ram shot back, frustration creeping into his voice.

Priya's eyes flashed with indignation. "Of course, people like you think you're the god of the galaxy, don't you?"

Their voices rose, each word sharpened by irritation and misunderstanding. The argument drew the attention of a few passersby, who glanced curiously at the shop's entrance.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, both Ram and Priya fell silent. They stared at each other, the absurdity of their bickering dawning on them. They were standing in the middle of a flower shop, behaving like quarrelsome children.

Feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his cheeks, Ram took a step back. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

Priya, equally flushed, nodded. "I agree," she said, her voice softer now. She glanced around, noticing the curious eyes of onlookers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, you're right," Ram interrupted, surprising himself with his admission. "I should have helped him. I just... I don't know. It was a bad day."

Priya's expression softened, the tension between them easing. "We all have bad days," she conceded. "But that doesn't mean we should take it out on others."

Ram nodded, the truth of her words sinking in. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Then Ram's gaze fell on a bunch of white lilies resting in a vase near the counter. "Can I take these flowers?" he asked, lifting the delicate bouquet.

Priya glanced at him, her expression still thoughtful from their earlier exchange. "If you want them," she replied.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Ram said, almost as if to himself. He reached for his wallet and paid for the lilies, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction as he completed the purchase.

With the bouquet in hand, he stepped outside into the cool evening air and sighed in relief. "What a woman," he muttered under his breath. "Oh god, this is why I hate women." Yet, even as he said it, there was a lingering sense of intrigue about Priya.

Ram made his way to his car, the lilies clutched carefully in his hand. As he settled into the driver's seat, he placed the bouquet on the passenger seat beside him. Driving through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but steal glances at the flowers. Their pristine white petals seemed to glow softly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

"What am I even doing?" he mused aloud, shaking his head slightly. Yet, despite his grumbling, he found himself oddly captivated by the simple beauty of the lilies. They seemed to carry a piece of Priya's calm, steady presence with them.

As he pulled into his driveway, he picked up the bouquet once more, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps today had been strange and unexpected, but it had left him with a sense of something new, something different.

He carried the lilies inside, placing them in a vase on his dining table. As he stood back to admire them, he couldn't help but think of Priya again—her strength, her kindness, and even their heated argument. The encounter had left a mark on him, one that he couldn't easily shake off.

As Ram stood in the dimly lit dining room, gazing at the white lilies in the vase, he was lost in his thoughts. The serene beauty of the flowers contrasted sharply with the turmoil in his mind. The soft rustle of footsteps behind him broke his reverie.

"What an odd sight to see," his father remarked, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and amusement.

Ram started, nearly dropping the vase. "Dad, you almost gave me a heart attack!" he exclaimed, turning to face the older man.

His father stood there, a bemused expression on his face. "Where have you been? And what are you doing with these flowers? You hardly make it home these days."

Ram sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just bought them. Thought they might brighten up the place."

His father's eyes softened as he looked at his son. "This is why I keep telling you to get married, Ram. How long do I have to live alone in this giant house? I want to play with my grandchildren."

Ram felt a familiar pang of guilt and frustration. "Dad, please don't expect this of me," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

His father's shoulders slumped slightly, the weariness of age and loneliness evident in his posture. "Ram, please. It's my wish."

Ram's heart ached at the plea, but he steeled himself. "Dad, I've told you already. I'm not ready for that kind of responsibility." He took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of emotions. "I need to go," he said abruptly, turning to leave.

"Ram," his father called softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Ram paused, his back to his father, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around. "Goodnight, Dad," he said, his voice strained.

He headed to his room, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes closing in frustration. The day's events and his father's words swirled in his mind, leaving him feeling torn and conflicted.

As he lay in bed, the image of Priya and the white lilies lingered in his thoughts. The encounter at the flower shop had stirred something within him, something he couldn't quite understand.

On the other side of town, in a modest but cozy apartment, Priya sat in her room, lost in her own thoughts. The day had been long and eventful, and as she settled into her favorite chair by the window, her mind kept drifting back to her unexpected encounter with Ram.

The room was filled with the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls adorned with floral prints. Outside, the city hummed with the distant sounds of evening life, but inside, it was quiet and peaceful.

Priya sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she replayed the day's events. The memory of Ram's frustration, his sudden appearance at her shop, and their heated argument lingered in her mind. There was something about him—something beyond the arrogance and the frustration—that had stirred an odd, unsettling feeling within her.

She remembered the moment he had bought the white lilies, his attempt at sincerity, and the brief glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. Despite his rough exterior, there had been a softness, a fleeting moment of honesty that had caught her off guard.