RAHDIK ONESHOTS

13. Our scent - 1

For : sayyedsisters

Top : Rahul
Bottom : Hardik

Plot : Mafia × Perfumer, love at first sight.

**Will have MPREG in upcoming chapters **

💞💞💞

In the bustling heart of Mumbai, where the sound of honking horns and chattering pedestrians was as constant as the rhythm of the waves on the shoreline, there was a peculiar shop that stood out from the street-side stalls. It was a quaint little perfumery, nestled between a crowded chai stand and a noisy paan vendor. Above the door, a faded signboard with peeling paint read 'Pandya's Perfume Parlour'. Inside, the air was a pattern of scents, each more alluring than the last.

Hardik Pandya, the third generation of his family to run the store, had a gift that had earned him a loyal following. With a nose that could distinguish between a hundred different roses, he crafted fragrances that captured the essence of people's desires. His customers ranged from love-stricken teenagers to corporate moguls seeking the perfect scent to complement their power suits. Hardik's conversations with them were as intricate as the perfumes he made. He'd listen intently, his eyes lighting up as they described their dreams and longings, then he'd retreat into his tiny workshop, emerging with a bottle that seemed to hold the very essence of their souls.

One sweltering afternoon, as the city's heat wrapped around everyone in a sticky embrace, a shadow fell across the shop's threshold. The conversations inside the perfumery hushed as the door creaked open, and in stepped a man who was the very antithesis of the delicate fragrances within. Kl Rahul, the city's feared mafia king, known for his sharp suits and sharper tongue, looked out of place amidst the floral decors and scented candles. His eyes, cold as steel, scanned the shelves, searching for something that could not be bought with money or power.

"I need a gift for my mother," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very bottles on the shelves. The regulars in the shop exchanged glances, their eyes wide with curiosity. It was no secret that Kl Rahul's mother was the only soft spot in his otherwise impenetrable armor. Hardik, unfazed by the man's reputation, met his gaze with a calm smile. "I'm sure I can find something she'll love," he replied, gesturing to the rows of exquisite perfumes.

Rahul took a step closer, his eyes locking onto a bottle with a crimson label. "What's that one?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Hardik reached for it, the smile never leaving his face. "Ah, this is the 'Heart of a Warrior'. It's a blend of sandalwood and saffron, with a hint of jasmine. It's strong, yet has a surprising softness to it. It's said to evoke feelings of protection and courage. Perfect for a mother, don't you think?"

The mafia king's gaze softened at the description. "It sounds like her," he murmured. Hardik nodded, understanding the unspoken words behind the statement. "Let's start with this," he said, taking the bottle down and placing it on the counter. He began mixing a few drops of other oils, his movements precise and measured, a silent dance of creation. The air between them grew thick with the scent of spices and warmth.

"So, your mother," Hardik ventured, eager to keep the conversation flowing. "What does she enjoy?"

Rahul's expression grew distant, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "She's a simple woman," he said, his voice a touch wistful. "Loves her garden, her prayers, and the smell of rain on the first earth."

"Ah, a true Mumbaiite," Hardik said with a knowing smile. "I have just the thing to capture that scent." He opened a small drawer beneath the counter, revealing a vial filled with a clear liquid. The scent of fresh rain and earthy petrichor wafted up, as if summoned by the very mention of it. He added a few drops to the mix, watching as the colors swirled and the fragrance grew richer.