His Uncommitted Sin

A Spicy Humiliation

Kanvi's POV:

The New Year celebration was nothing short of magical. Lights twinkled, laughter filled every corner, and our little family felt whole. Anvi Di and Keevah danced in sync to the beats, while Noel tried and miserably failed to match their rhythm. And then there was Rockstar, our energetic furball, wagging his tail so hard it might've flown off if it weren't attached.

But something was off.

Dr. A the epitome of composure and icy indifference had his serene aura completely shattered by one tiny, four-legged fluffball. It was almost comical how much Rockstar's existence seemed to bother him.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. The subtle eye twitch every time Rockstar barked, the way his jaw clenched when the dog pounced near his polished shoes. But no, Dr. A wasn't just annoyed. He was at war.

It all started innocently enough. Rockstar, being the curious pup he was, decided Dr. A's pristine white t-shirt was the perfect target for muddy paw prints. I swear I saw Dr. A's soul momentarily leave his body as he froze, looking down at the mess. He didn't say a word, but his cold blue eyes cut toward the dog like lasers.

Rockstar, of course, didn't care. He barked happily, tongue lolling out as if he'd just performed the world's greatest trick.

The battle escalated over the next few days. Dr. A began leaving decoy items for Rockstar to chew on an old shoe, a wooden stick, anything to keep him away from his precious belongings. But Rockstar wasn't fooled. No, he had his sights set on bigger prey, Dr. A's medical bag.

I caught the aftermath one evening. Rockstar proudly paraded around the living room with a stethoscope dangling from his mouth. Dr. A stood in the doorway, his expression so blank it was almost terrifying.

"This dog," he said in a voice that could've frozen fire, "is testing the limits of my patience."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, come on, Dr. A. He's just a baby!"

"A baby," he repeated, his tone as sharp as a scalpel. "A baby menace."

The final straw came during dinner. Rockstar decided to show his affection by leaping onto Dr. A's lap mid-meal. A plate of pasta went flying, landing right on Dr. A's immaculate shirt. For a moment, the room was silent. Even Rockstar seemed to sense the danger as he jumped off and sat at a safe distance, wagging his tail innocently.

Dr. A stood, his movements slow and deliberate, and excused himself to clean up. Anvi Di burst out laughing the moment he left the room, while Vihaan muttered, "Rockstar's a brave one."

I'm not sure what's more amusing. Rockstar's relentless determination to annoy Dr. A or Dr. A's futile attempts to maintain his composure. Either way, it's clear they're locked in a silent battle, and honestly? I'm loving every second of it.

Though I have to admit, I've been keeping an eye on Rockstar lately. Something tells me Dr. A might be plotting his revenge.

The day unfolded like any other, calm yet productive. Everyone had settled back into their routines. Dr. A and Anvi Di were busy saving lives at the hospital. Keevah tended to her quaint little floral shop, filling the air with the scent of fresh blooms. Noel was probably flirting with a few patients in the hospital. And me? I was back at my desk, meticulously working through the operations files like I had been doing for the past six months.

Today was different, though. The Smithson project, Vihaan's prized deal was under my charge, though I have mentors to guide me. Every detail had to be flawless. Vihaan wanted this project done to perfection, and frankly, so did I. Failure wasn't an option. Mrs. Jenkins, my direct superior, trusted me enough to handle the final stages, which felt like a subtle nod to my growing competence here.