𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉

𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

Shivaay swallowed, as he avoided looking at his wife, who was chewing her lower lip nervously. "Annika," he cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face. "I'm quite tired, my love." He looked at the dismayed look on his wife's face, and wished he could take back his words.

But unfortunately—— for the first time—— his emotions overpowered the logical side of his brain, which deemed Annika's suggestion to be perfectly valid.

"Shivaay——" Annika frowned.

"Aur phir, I'll need to cook as well," he sighed, dramatically. "Who knows what you've made," he grinned at her, in a teasing manner, watching as the corners of her lips turned down and glared at him, grumpily.

"Excuse me," she poked his chest. "My dishes are edible."

He blinked, before bursting out laughing. "Annika, you should consider being a comedian. Saach mein." She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "You're truly hilarious, darling."

"Aap——" she broke off abruptly, staring at the mess on the floor. Sighing, she walked to get the dishcloth in the cupboard nearby, murmuring softly, "I need to clean this up. Yay me!" Rolling her eyes, she bent down to get started on the task.

"You're still as clumsy as ever," Shivaay shook his head, with a fond smile on his face. He attempted to take the dishcloth from her hand, only to have her glare at him.

"It's all your fault," she looked at the mess on the floor.

"My fault?" He frowned. "Maine kya kiya?"

"You," she rolled her eyes, "startled me." Shivaay knelt down, with a second dishcloth in his hands, before he wiped the floor. She looked at him in surprise, "Shivaay, kya kar rahe hain app? I'll clean it up."

"I'm helping you," he shrugged.

Annika blinked. "No. Absolutely not." He tilted his head, a small smile curving up one corner of his lips. "You've been working all day. You're exhausted. Freshen up and I'll set the table."

"Annika——" he opened his mouth.

"No," she stated firmly. "If you don't listen to me," she arched an eyebrow, "then I will." She frowned, contemplating what to threaten him with.

"You will what?" Shivaay arched an eyebrow in challenge. "What will you do?"

"I won't eat," she smirked, watching as his eyes widened.

"Huh?" Shivaay blinked, horrified.

Had he heard her correctly?

How could his foodie wife not eat?

She loved to eat!

And him?

He loved to cook for her.

She was threatening to take it away from him.

Cooking was the one thing that had always calmed him down, and he'd always loved preparing dishes for his brothers and Priyanka, initially; and then, for his wife.

"Haan," her eyes narrowed. She seemed to not have realised the inner turmoil bubbling inside him, as she looked at him with a fake glare. "I won't eat."

"Please don't say that," the soft broken voice startled her. Her eyes widened, noticing the pleasing look in the kaleidoscopic eyes, which had been filled with mirth a few seconds ago, being filled with apprehension and fear. "I'll do what you want. Just," he exhaled slowly, trying to control his ragged breathing. "Please don't take away cooking from me. It makes me happy."