Veeraj sat in his office, sleeves rolled up, ledger open before him, but the numbers blurred under his gaze. His mind wasn’t on month-end reports or contracts. It was on Vanya — the way she had smiled at breakfast, the warmth of her hand in his, the soft glow of her presence that haunted him even amid deadlines.
Meanwhile, Vanya finally returned to her room. The day had been long, filled with small battles she had fought quietly: the whispers of servants, the stifled smiles of family members, and most piercingly, the words of Kaira and Mrs. Khurana. They had made her feel like an intruder in her own home, like a gold digger who didn’t belong. The sting of it lingered, pressing against her chest.
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