Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 22

Samrat is avoiding her, Mishti is sure he is.

He had started doing it after the night he had ‘caught’ her and Vivek talking to each other. That was two days ago. And Mishti would’ve understood if the reason behind his avoidance was him getting angry at his workers slacking off but that was evidently not the case because he talked to Vivek just fine. He had even hugged his valet a goodbye this morning while sending him off to his town to attend to his mother who had not been feeling too well, something that Vivek had himself told her even though they were back to being each other’s arch enemies.

Mishti sincerely hoped that nothing bad would happen to Vivek’s mother.

Back to Samrat avoiding her though, Mishti had noticed that his behaviour was way different than the time when he had got to know about his loss. He was quiet and frustrated then and now he was quiet and nervous.

At least that is what it looked like to Mishti if the instances like his lack of review on the foods or avoiding looking her in the eyes were anything to go by.

The indifference wasn’t well digested by Mishti. 

She was beginning to like the way they teased each other sometimes or the way he complimented her dishes or told her to stop smiling when she would grin listening to them.

Mishti wants to confront him. Wants to ask him the exact reason for his avoidance or to tell her that it is all her misunderstanding and that he would never avoid the girl who can’t stop caring about him or the things related to him.

It has been going on for four years now. At least from her end.

But of course, she can’t do that. Can’t reveal any of that. He is her boss, and she is just an employee.

The man in question is not at home now, gone to his company office for his pre-lunch meeting. But his absence isn’t making her any less fidgety.

It is inevitable when it happens; lost in her thoughts when she grabs the knife by her left hand instead of the right and begins to chop the carrot, the knife though not as smart as her doesn’t quite decipher the difference between her thumb and the carrot and slices the former instead.

“Ah!” the knife drops from her hand onto the floor, as she immediately brings her hand to examine the cut. It’s a pity that she can’t because some pathetic tears are blurring her vision, too much blood already coating the cut.

Her first instinct is to call for her brother as she had always done till now.

“It hurts, bhai…. Ahh –”

“It’s almost done, Chutki, see?”

“No, No…it still hurts.”

“Count till three.”

“One, two – Bhai! It’s the Shinchan band-aid!”

“It is. Now it doesn’t hurt anymore, now does it?”

“No, bhai, not at all.”

Oh, but her sweet brother isn’t here to tend to her, neither is this a cut so shallow that it can get better by a Shinchan band-aid. They usually aren’t when grow up.

It’s perhaps for the first and the last time that she is grateful to the agency for providing them all with some medicinal knowledge, teaching them how to suture or give the first aid.

She finishes doing that to her wound, methodically disinfecting it before wrapping a bandage around her thumb, having to encompass the whole hand in it just to stop the bandage from slipping, thankful that it doesn’t need stitches. But her hand throbs, restricting her from going back to the kitchen and resuming her work. And so, she decides to take a five-minute break and give her aching and bandaged hand some rest.