Sunday felt different.

No alarms.

No rush.

No panic about being late.

Shikha woke up at eight, a little later than usual, and for once, she didn't feel guilty about it. She had studied till late the previous night, so she allowed herself this slow morning. No office today.

By mid-morning, she was already moving around her PG room, following the routine every office-going person saves for weekends. Clothes went into the bucket. The room was cleaned. Books were rearranged. Random papers finally thrown out. By the time she finished, it was already past one.

She called home.

The call went on longer than expected. She told her parents about her week, the work pressure, the office, the people. Her mummy listened quietly, reacting in between. Her papa asked questions like he always did. Her brother joined midway, teasing her about surviving Mumbai. By the time she cut the call, she felt lighter.

After lunch, she sat with her PG mates, talking lazily.

That was when someone said, "Guys... groceries are over."

A collective groan followed.

Another girl looked at Shikha. "It's your turn today."

Shikha sighed. "Of course it is."

"And didn't you say you needed some personal stuff too?" someone added.

She snapped her fingers. "Oh god, yes. Thanks for reminding me."

They decided she'd go in the evening.

Till then, Shikha studied and finished some pending office work. By the time she got ready and wore black top and blue jeans and took her purse and stepped out, it was already afternoon.

The supermarket was barely five minutes away.

And completely packed.

She stopped near the entrance, looking at the crowd.

"Did everyone's groceries finish only today? This is going to waste so much time."

She went inside anyway.

Basket in hand, she moved aisle by aisle, picking items and mentally ticking off her list. Everything was going fine until she remembered the kitchen towels.

She found them immediately.

Too high.

She stretched her arm. Almost. Not enough.

Standing on her toes didn't help either.

She frowned.

"Who keeps things this high? Keeping it a little lower wouldn't hurt."

She tried again.

This time, several kitchen towels fell.

She froze.

"Oh shit," she muttered. "I needed only a few, not all of them."

She bent down when a voice suddenly said,

"What the hell—"

She turned around.

A man stood there in black jeans, a white top, and a black jacket. Several kitchen towels were covering his face as he tried to remove them.

The sight was so unexpected that she laughed.

Not loudly.

But enough.

Then she realised.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, rushing forward to remove the towels.

And then she saw him.

Himanshu Malhotra.

Her boss.

Her hands froze.

Her smile vanished.

Up close, he didn't look like the Himanshu Malhotra from the office.

No suit. No tie. No files. Just casual clothes and a tired calmness she had never seen before.

For the first time, he looked normal.

The thought unsettled her more than the embarrassment.

He looked just as surprised.

"Miss Sharma," he said. "You..."

"Sir... I'm really sorry," she said quickly. "I was just trying to get the towels and they slipped."

He glanced at the fallen towels.

"I should have understood," he said calmly. "Who else could manage this?"

She straightened.

"Sir, I do my work without mistakes. This was just today. You've seen my work."

"Yes," he said. "I've seen your work."

She relaxed slightly.

"That's why I'm saying this," he added, lightly sarcastic.

She sighed. "Okay, sometimes there are errors. But mostly I work properly."

He looked at her, amused.

"Fine, Miss Sharma."

She bent to pick up the towels. He crouched too, helping silently.

As she stood up, her head almost hit the trolley.

His hand came up instinctively, stopping it.

"Careful," he said.

For a second, his hand stayed there.

Close.

She looked up. Too close. His eyes had softened, just a little.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly.

They both stepped back at the same time and placed the towels properly.

She cleared her throat.

"Sir... what are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... not like that," she said hurriedly. "I just didn't expect to see you in this area."

"To meet clients?" he asked. Then added, "No. To buy groceries."

She smiled awkwardly. "I meant... you live around here?"

"Yes," he said. "Nearby."

"Oh," she said.

Without realising, she muttered, "He lives here too..."

"You said something?" he asked.

"No," she said quickly.

"You look surprised."

"I'm not. I just... I live nearby too. I've never seen you before."

"I'm usually busy," he said. "I don't come out much."

"Same," she said.

A pause settled.

Not awkward. Just unexpected.

He picked up his basket.

"Try not to drop the entire store next time, Miss Sharma."

"I'll try, sir."

He walked away.

She stood there for a moment, holding her basket.

At the billing counter, the queue was long. She noticed his black jacket a few steps ahead.

Seeing him like this felt strange.

Normal.

She paid, turned around—and almost collided with him again.

"Sorry, sir."

"It's fine."

Another pause.

"You seem well-prepared," he said, glancing at her bags.

"PG groceries. My turn."

"That explains it."

"Well... good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Miss Sharma."

They walked out together, then split.

She didn't look back immediately.

By the time she reached her PG, groceries heavy in her hands, she realised something simple but unsettling.

Nothing dramatic had happened.

No big moment.

And yet, something had shifted.

Author Note:

Hii how was the chapter 9 please share your feedbacks and vote the chapter 🤗