Just completed writing this chapter, couldn't wait for it to be published. So here it is.

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Sunlight glinted off Ishan's cufflinks as he strolled into Kapoor Architects. A curt nod to the receptionist, a practiced smile – the doors whooshed open.

He found Abhishek's office, a smirk tugging at his lips. He pushed open the door.

Abhishek, his longtime rival, looked up from his desk, confusion morphing into shock. "Ishan?"

"The one and only," Ishan drawled, sauntering in. He settled into a plush chair, the leather groaning.

"What brings you here?" Abhishek's voice was laced with disbelief.

"Rumors," Ishan replied, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "About the... challenges you're facing."

Abhishek's jaw clenched. "Challenges?"

Ishan chuckled, a humorless sound. "Don't play coy, Abhishek. We both know things haven't been smooth sailing."

Abhishek's face flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ishan cut him off.

"Hear me out," Ishan soothed, his tone patronizing. "I'm here to offer a helping hand."

Abhishek scoffed. "Helping hand? Bullshit. Get out of my office."

Ishan's smile didn't falter. "Limited vision, as always. You need a head architect for Malhotra. A project you desperately need."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "And those marital woes with Vaidehi... work troubles bleeding over?"

Abhishek slammed his fist on the desk. "Ishan-"

"Hold on," Ishan interjected. "I'm impressed with your work. What if..."

He paused, letting the anticipation hang.

"- You take the head architect position?  Our expertise, Our clientele... we could turn things around for Kapoor Architects."

He winked. "Maybe even save your marriage. A united front, presenting a successful project..."

Ishan slid a business card across the desk. "You know how to reach me."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Abhishek staring at the card like a ticking time bomb.

Silence stretched.  Abhishek stared at the card, the weight of Ishan's words pressing down.  A poisoned chalice? A desperate gamble?

He picked up the card, a sliver of desperation warring with anger.  Could he trust Ishan?

He leaned back, the weight of the decision settling on him.  He needed a miracle.  Maybe, just maybe, he could use Ishan to his advantage.

-----

Ishan's grin stretched across his face as he slid into his car. Abhishek's stunned expression was music to his ears. He'd played him perfectly. Now, it was time to celebrate with Mahi.

He reached her building, heart hammering. This time, lilies, her favorite. The door swung open, revealing Mahi in the warm glow. "Hi," he said, offering the flowers.

"Thank you," she murmured, a polite distance in her smile. A familiar frustration tugged at him.

"Congrats on Malhotra," she said, moving to the kitchen.

"You too, with the ad. You were phenomenal and dinner at my place. Mom insisted." he replied, following.

Surprise flickered in her eyes. "Okay but You saw the audition tape?"

"Every word," he said, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Mahi Kapoor, the next big thing."

A weak smile played on her lips. "Sandwich?"

"Absolutely." He watched her, mesmerized. The silence stretched comfortably.

He stole glances, his heart pounding. He wanted to bridge the distance, erase the doubt in her eyes. The doubt born from their fake relationship, a shield he'd built.

A white smear of mayo caught his eye. He reached up, but a hand beat him to it.

Mahi's touch was light, her fingers lingering on his lips. The world slowed. Her eyes, usually guarded, held defiance, something he couldn't decipher.

Then, her phone buzzed. The spell shattered. She pulled back, startled. Their eyes met, a storm of emotions swirling – surprise, desire, fear.

"Zara," she mumbled, voice barely a whisper. Her manager.

Disappointment flickered across his face, but he forced a smile. "Go ahead, answer it." He knew the game was dangerous, his walls crumbling under his growing attraction.

Mahi nodded, hurrying out. Ishan was left with the sandwich and the taste of a kiss that never happened. He stared where her hand had touched, his heart a chaotic mess. He was playing a dangerous game, hearts and ambitions. The thrill of the chase was enough, for now. But a flicker of doubt, a foreign feeling, crept in. Was there more to this game than he bargained for?

-----

The grandfather clock ticked in the tense silence. Amarjit slammed his fist on the table.

"Dev! Do you have any idea?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Dev mumbled, "I messed up."

Shyamla's voice cut in, sharp. "Messed up? You lost Malhotra AND got the Singh girl pregnant? Trying to destroy the business?"

Dev hung his head. He knew they were right. But it wasn't what they thought.

"This isn't carelessness, Dev!" Amarjit boomed, his hand raised.

Shubman stepped in, calm but firm. "Dad, let him explain."

Amarjit glared, then composed himself slightly. "Explain what? Was it an accident?"

Dev opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Anger flared beneath his shame.

Shyamla's voice trembled. "We trusted you, Dev. You threw it all away for a Singh?"

"It wasn't like that, Mom!" Dev finally said. "There were no feelings involved, just a huge mistake."

Amarjit roared. "Consequences, Dev! You've compromised the company!"

The weight of his actions pressed on Dev. The family watched, disappointment and judgment in their eyes.

Shubman, ever the mediator, spoke. "Alright, let's calm down. We need a plan for this... situation."

Amarjit slammed his fist on the table. "Explain, Dev! This is a disaster!"

Dev flinched. "It wasn't like that—"

"Quiet!" Amarjit roared. "You lost Malhotra, got tangled with a Singh, what next?"

"At least I'm not getting a divorce!" Dev blurted.

Vaidehi gasped. Abhishek stared, stunned.

Shyamla's voice cut through the shock. "Vaidehi? Are you...?"

Vaidehi, flushed, whispered, "Yes, Mom. We're separating."

Amarjit slumped. "I can't handle this anymore." He left, Shyamla following.

Silence. Accusations hung in the air.
Vaidehi glared at Dev. "Fuck You Dev!"

Abhishek, bewildered, asked, "How did you even know?"

Dev avoided his gaze. "Vaidehi told me."

Shubman began, "Hold on—"
Sana interrupted, "Don't, Shubman. Not now."

Vaidehi and Abhishek left, a heavy goodbye.

Dev, alone with Shubman and Sana, pleaded, "Would you like to say something, brother?"

Shubman disappointed, said, "There's nothing left to say."

She took Shubman's hand, and they left Dev in the wreckage of the dinner. The silence screamed. Dev, realizing the cost of his actions, sank deeper into the couch. The storm he'd unleashed had shattered more than just a meal.

----

The sweetness of gulab jamuns couldn't mask the bitter tension.

Taran Singh, a man built for boardrooms, slammed his fist down. "That's it? You sneak around with that Dev Sharma and drop this like a rotten mango?"

Geeta, her eyes red, dabbed at them with a tissue. "Saakshi, beta... pregnant? Unmarried? And with Dev?"

Saakshi flinched. Dev Sharma, her nemesis from a million business battles, was the last person she'd expected. Their rivalry was legendary. Yet, here they were.

Across the table, Ishan, her stoic brother, remained silent. Disappointment radiated from him like heat. Beside him, his usually bubbly PR girlfriend, Mahi, sat stiffly, quiet as a statue.

"It wasn't planned," Saakshi whispered, tears welling. "It just happened."

"Things 'just happening' don't make babies, Saakshi!" Taran boomed. "What now? How do we face the Sharmas?"

Saakshi wanted to scream. Facing the Sharmas was the least of it. Fear, guilt, and a fierce protectiveness for the tiny life inside her warred within her.

"There has to be a way," Ishan said, his voice a calm in the storm. "We need to talk, Saakshi. Figure this out."

Saakshi looked at him, a flicker of hope. Maybe there was a way out. But a nagging voice reminded her - Dev wouldn't be easy. He was as stubborn as he was arrogant, and the family feud added another layer of complexity.

Silence returned, heavy and suffocating. This was just the beginning. The real battle, for her future and her child's, was yet to come.

------

The tension in the sterile hotel conference room was thick enough to cut with a trowel. On one side of the polished mahogany table sat the Sharma, a storm brewing in their stern expressions. Amarjit Sharma, Dev's father, a man whose imposing stature was mirrored by his even more imposing temper, glared across at Taran Singh, Saakshi's father. Taran, a man known for his steely resolve in the boardroom, held his gaze unflinchingly.

"Amarjit," he began, his voice a low rumble, "what's done is done. We need to find a way forward."

Amarjit snorted. "A way forward? Easy enough. Give us the Malhotra project. That washes the slate clean."

Saakshi, perched on the edge of her chair, let out a sharp gasp. The Malhotra project had been a hard-fought victory, a testament to her dedication and skill. Hearing her father casually barter it away sent a jolt of anger through her.

Taran shook his head, his jaw set. "Absolutely not. We won that project fair and square."

The air crackled with hostility. Amarjit leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then it seems your unmarried daughter will be bringing a child into the world."

Dev, who had remained silent until this point, opened his mouth to protest, but Amarjit cut him off with a sharp gesture. Dev hated this. He and Saakshi didn't exactly see eye to eye, but the thought of using their child as a bargaining chip was repugnant to him.

Taran, however, seemed unfazed. "Perhaps," he said, his voice calm despite the storm brewing in his eyes, "we can find a compromise. A fifty-fifty stake in the Malhotra project."

A flicker of surprise crossed Amarjit's face. This wasn't the fiery response he'd expected. He considered it for a moment, the gears in his mind turning.

"Fifty-fifty?" he scoffed. "Make it ninety-ten in our favor, and we have a deal."

Taran's eyes narrowed. "Fifty-fifty or we go public. And let the world know your son, Dev, 'tricked' my daughter into this."

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Amarjit bristled. Tricked? Dev wouldn't stoop to such tactics. But the public relations nightmare of the scandal was a sobering thought.

With a sigh of defeat, he finally conceded, "Fine. Fifty-fifty. But this partnership better work, Singh. Because if it doesn't..."

Taran nodded curtly. The professional terms had been settled, a fragile truce built on the foundation of their unexpected grandchild. However, the real challenge remained - how to navigate this partnership on a personal level.

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IMP- Something interesting is coming tomorrow. Be ready!! *Wink* *Wink*