The Sisodias' life is a masterpiece of perfection, crafted for the world to admire. They have it all: empire, wealth, status and reputation that shines brighter than gold. Every smile, every gesture, every word is a calculated performance.
But as t...
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Jivika was busy helping the people wrap up the event, her hands moving swiftly as she packs away the remaining items. Aayansh was standing by the entrance, waiting for her to drop her back home.
"Why didn't you leave?" She asks from far, looking in his direction with confusion.
"Bhabhi asked me to drop you," he replies, his tone laced with arrogance.
"You don't have to. I can manage on my own." She says, her expression neutral.
"What's the big deal in taking help? Are we playing aatma-nirbhar?" He raises an eyebrow with a hint of taunt in his tone, irking her with his behaviour. She was already done with his silence throughout the event, and now all he was doing was to get on her nerves.
(Self sufficient.)
"I said I don't need it." Jivika presses, but her words have no effect on him, who turns his gaze back to his phone, nonchalantly.
Just then, Ananya approachs them, looking frazzled. "Aayansh," she looks at him hesitantly, catching the attention of two pairs of eyes, "Can you help me with this table? The others have moved out."
But before he could respond, Jivika moves towards her, her hands grasping the edges of the table.
"Why are you asking him? I will do it." She volunteers, only get interrupted in mid by Aayansh. "O sevika, I am here. She asked for my help."
He walks towards the table stubbornly, reaching for the edges and grasp it firmly after siding Ananya. Jivika refuses to release her grip, her eyes locking onto his in a silent challenge with him.
Ananya's eyes darts between them, her expression uneasy, seeing the two standing there, all set to begin the war. She seems to sense the underlying tension and wisely decides to retreat, leaving them to their standoff.
"Mere muh pe naksha laga hai? Peeche chalo," Jivika snaps, directing him.
"Kaash tumhare muh pe tala laga hota...tum peeche chalo," he says with a scowl.
(Is there a map drawn on my face? Go behind.)
(Wish there was a lock on your mouth...you go behind.)
The table hovers in the air, suspended between their grasping hands while they continue to tell each other to take backward steps. And then, without a warning, Jivika releases her grip on the table in frustration.
Aayansh's hold also slips, and the table crashes to the floor with a resounding thud. He yelps in pain when the table's edge catches his foot. He hops on one foot, his face contorts in pain.
Jivika's expression transforms in an instant. Concern flashes across her face and she rushes towards him, her hands reaching out to support him.
"Are you hurt? Is it paining too much? Why do you always behave like this?"
