## Ishita Sharma’s Perspective — The Morning After I Couldn’t Forget

The moment I woke up, I knew I couldn’t go to work empty-handed today. Not after last night.

Not after the protective glare, the intense scolding, the hug that felt like the entire world stopping, and the way he waited until I went inside. It was a silent, unshakeable promise.

So I got up early, tied my hair in a loose braid, and tiptoed into the kitchen. Mummy was still asleep. Good. I didn’t want questions today.

I remembered all the times I watched him eat—carefully, like a man on a strict schedule. Always healthy. Always clean. But always… alone. There was a lack of warmth in his routine.

So today, I made him something different—but *his* type of different. I used ingredients I knew he approved of, prepared with the homely touch he never got.

I carefully packed:

* ✨ **Quinoa vegetable upma** with flaxseed and a dash of lemon. *Protein and healthy carbs.*

* ✨ **Grilled tofu salad** tossed in olive oil and herbs. *Pure vegan protein.*

* ✨ A container of fresh-cut fruits. *Vitamins and fiber.*

* ✨ And just because I *wanted* to, one small homemade **atta laddoo**. Just one. *A tiny piece of home.*

I sealed it all in a neat white lunch box with a handwritten sticky note on the inside lid:

> **“Aapke liye… bas aise hi. - Ishita ☺️”** (For you... just like that.)

I was terribly nervous. My stomach was a knot of anxiety and anticipation. I’d never done anything like this before. It wasn’t about impressing the tycoon. It was just… I didn’t know how else to say *thank you* for saving my life without making it awkward with big, difficult words. This felt safer. More honest.

# Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective

I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, her face came back—the fear, the trust, the sweet weight of her arms around my neck. I sat in my cabin, going through documents, sipping black coffee, trying to force my system back to its ruthless, cold setting. But today, the routine didn’t work. **Because she was my new routine.**

I was about to call my assistant for my standard, joyless breakfast when there was a knock. Soft. Rhythmic. *Her* knock.

And then… she walked in.

In a fresh, light pink *salwar suit*, her braid resting over her shoulder, her eyes carrying a strange mix of shyness and mischief. She looked like a fresh morning, completely out of place in my stark, black-and-white cabin.

**Ishita:** (She held out the lunchbox like it was fragile treasure) **“I… made something for you.”**

I raised an eyebrow, taking the warm, simple box slowly. **"You? For me?"** The disbelief was genuine.

She nodded, biting her lower lip slightly—a habit I was growing dangerously fond of. **“As a thank you… for yesterday.”**

I opened the box slowly. The aroma was warm, clean, and personal. Not the sterile scent of corporate catering. The arrangement was meticulous, colorful, and utterly thoughtful. My eyes went to the note stuck inside.

**“Aapke liye… bas aise hi. - Ishita ☺️”**

I didn't say anything for a few seconds. I couldn’t.

This was new. This was rare. Women sent me expensive Montblanc pens or customized watches, not quinoa *upma* and fruits, packed with their own small hands. But *she*… she gave me something I hadn’t had in years—**care without condition.**

I looked up, our eyes locked. The question slipped out, softer than any command I’d issued all morning.

**Rudra:** **“Will you sit and eat with me?”**

Her eyes widened slightly, reflecting the surprise I felt myself. **“*Aapke saath?*”** (With you?)

I nodded. **“Yes. With me. Since you went to all this trouble to break my boring health routine, the least you can do is supervise the consumption.”**

She slowly pulled the chair across my desk and sat, folding her hands in her lap, nervous but settled.

I picked up the small, brown *laddoo* first. The one thing that screamed "unhealthy." I broke it in half and handed her a piece before she could protest.

**Rudra:** **“I don’t eat sweets,”** I said, my voice steady, my gaze intense. **“But if you made it, I’m having it. This one is non-negotiable.”**

She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly—a reaction I cherished.

I picked up the grilled tofu salad, watching her tiny movements as she carefully unfolded her napkin.

**Rudra:** **“Did you sleep?”** I asked, picking at the salad, my focus entirely on her.

**Ishita:** **“Yes. You messaged that you reached home safely. That helped.”** She met my eyes, her shyness momentarily forgotten. **“*Aapko bhi aaram karna chahiye tha. Aapki aankhein thodi thaki hui lag rahi hain.*”** (You should also rest. Your eyes look a little tired.)

My heart did a strange, painful flip. *She noticed.* The ruthlessly focused CEO, the cold Prince of Business, was tired because he'd spent the night fighting for her, and **she was the only person who noticed.**

**Rudra:** **“I slept,”** I lied smoothly. **“But thinking about your recklessness is tiring. Never do that again, Ishita. Promise me.”**

**Ishita:** (She didn't hesitate this time) **“I promise. Never again.”**

I leaned back, savoring the simple, clean taste of the *upma*. It was delicious. Better than anything my personal chef prepared.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low, intimate, conveying everything I couldn't say) **“This… this is the best breakfast I have had in years. Thank you.”**

I didn't need to confess love. I had confessed my *need* last night. Today, I was accepting her care, and in doing so, I was accepting her fully into my life.

## Ishita's Perspective

I quickly realized I needed to shift the conversation. His intense gaze was back, analyzing the **upma**, analyzing my face, and definitely analyzing the stupidity of my actions last night. I didn't want another repeat of that overwhelming, frightening possessiveness.

**Ishita:** (I leaned forward, trying to inject some much-needed chaos into the minimalist cabin) **"Rudra... *aap itna kaam karte ho, bor nahi hote in sab mein?*"** (You work so much, don't you get bored of all this?)

I waved my hand vaguely at the stacks of files and his large monitor.

**Ishita:** **"Same things every day! Meetings, files, *dus-bees percent* up, *chalis percent* down."** I wrinkled my nose. **"It's like watching a black-and-white movie on repeat. *Humare set pe toh phir bhi naagin dance ya item number hota hai.*"** (At least on our set, there's a snake dance or an item number.)

He stopped chewing the *upma*, a fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at me with an expression that was a perfect blend of amusement and disdain.

**Rudra:** **"Ishita, I manage a multi-billion dollar empire. It is hardly comparable to a 'snake dance' or an 'item number.' This is the real world."**

**Ishita:** **"Oh, *haaye*. Real world mein toh bilkul hi mazaa nahi hai. Aapki zindagi ki highlight kya hai? Stock market open hona?"** (Oh, my. There’s absolutely no fun in the real world. What’s the highlight of your life? The stock market opening?) I dramatically rested my chin on my hand.

**Ishita:** **"See, my life's highlight yesterday was almost being cast as a villain's sister in a new show, but then they realized my smile was too innocent. *Aapki life mein toh koi villain bhi nahi hoga. Sab aapse darr ke bhaag jaate honge.*"** (There must not be any villains in your life either. Everyone probably runs away scared of you.)

He didn't laugh, but I saw the corner of his lips twitch. He slowly put the fork down.

**Rudra:** **"You are right,"** he admitted, his voice low, serious, but with a surprising softness. **"My life is repetitive. I follow the rules. I value structure and silence. Until... now."**

He leaned forward across the desk, his eyes catching mine, and the light atmosphere immediately intensified.

**Rudra:** **"You bring chaos, Ishita. You walk in here and suddenly the stock market seems like a very dull topic. And for the record,"** he added, nodding toward my lunchbox, **"the biggest risk I've taken all week was eating something not approved by my nutritionist. You are my chaos."**

**Ishita:** (I blushed, but quickly recovered, determined to keep the mood light) **"Arey, that's not chaos, Rudra. That's *investment*! Think of this *upma* as my first dividend. It's giving you happiness, energy, and a nice story for your bored businessmen friends."**

I picked up the last piece of the grilled tofu and popped it into my mouth.

**Ishita:** **"See, the only boring thing here is you having to pretend you are always serious. *Ek din toh aaram se has liya karo.*"** (At least laugh easily one day.) **"I bet you practice that cold look in the mirror every morning before your 7 AM meeting."**

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the amusement was clear beneath the surface.

**Rudra:** **"I don't need to practice, Ishita. It comes naturally when you manage expectations and ruthlessly eliminate inefficiency."**

**Ishita:** **"Exactly! That's why you need me. I am the beautiful, necessary inefficiency in your life. I am the reason you remembered to eat carbohydrates today. Now finish that fruit. You look like a man who hasn't seen a banana in ten years."**

I had done it. The tension of last night was replaced by a familiar, comfortable rhythm: my lighthearted teasing against his controlled intensity.

## Rudra’s Perspective:

I stared at her, the last piece of grilled tofu forgotten on my fork. She had just called me "the beautiful, necessary inefficiency" in my life.

*Inefficiency.* The word that I spent my entire career eliminating from every single balance sheet and workflow was now sitting across my desk, packaged in a pink *salwar suit* and wrapped in pure Indian charisma.

**Rudra:** (I shook my head, my lips twitching dangerously close to a full smile) **"Ishita, you confuse me."**

**Ishita:** (She threw her hands up dramatically) **"See! That's my talent! Confusion is the spice of life, Rudra. You have too much structure. You need more... *mirchi*."** (Chili.) **"I am the *mirchi*."**

**Rudra:** (I leaned back, crossing my arms, feeling the exhaustion of trying to contain her energy) **"You are not *mirchi*. You are a hurricane wrapped in a silk dupatta. And you need to stop calling yourself an inefficiency. You are the most focused, talented asset on this entire project. That's why you are successful."**

She made a face, dismissing the compliment instantly.

**Ishita:** **"Assets are boring. Assets don't argue over *rajma-chawal*. Assets don't fall off the stairs in front of billionaires. Assets don't have chipped nail polish."** She held up her small hand for inspection. **"See? Imperfection. Pure Ishita."**

I sighed, running a hand over my perfectly styled hair. I was done. Done with the meeting. Done with the *upma*. And definitely done with trying to hold onto my cold composure when faced with her sheer, unapologetic honesty.

**Rudra:** **"Fine. You are not an asset. You are my greatest, most complicated... investment risk."**

**Ishita:** (She clapped her hands softly, eyes sparkling) **"Oho! Much better! At least there’s risk! Because risk means you have to keep watching me, right? You have to keep checking the market value."**

She scooped up the last half of the *laddoo* I had left her and popped it into her mouth, looking utterly satisfied.

**Ishita:** **"Anyway, Mr. Risk Taker, I need to go. My makeup artist is waiting, and I need to become an asset again for the camera. Don't forget to eat the fruit later. And call me when you leave the office, okay? *Aap bhi toh meri zimmedari ho.*"** (You are also my responsibility.)

She gathered the empty lunchbox, placed it neatly in her bag, and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her suit.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to speak a word of objection to her blatant, adorable hypocrisy. She was turning my own words and actions against me with every playful sentence.

**Rudra:** (I finally managed to speak, my voice tinged with resignation) **"Go, Ishita. Just... go."**

She gave me a bright, quick smile that somehow felt intimate and private, even in my office. Then she was gone, leaving behind the faint, warm scent of her home-cooked breakfast and the unsettling silence of my disciplined world.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, gripping the arms of my leather chair.

**Rudra:** (I whispered into the empty room, a mix of defeat and elation) **"I am done with this girl. Completely, hopelessly done. She is going to break me."**

But the strange, thrilling warmth settling in my chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with her—told me I was ready to be broken.

The moment Ishita closed the door, the warmth seemed to leave the room. I was staring at the half-eaten **quinoa upma**, savoring the lingering taste of *laddoo* on my tongue—a taste of domesticity that felt wildly out of place.

There was a soft knock, and Laksh, my assistant, entered, crisp and impeccably dressed as always. He stopped dead in his tracks, his professional façade momentarily cracking as he took in the scene.

Laksh’s eyes darted from my perfectly organized desk to the white lunchbox—a clear, stark anomaly—and then to the piece of fruit I was holding. The disbelief was palpable.

**Laksh:** (Stuttering slightly) **“Sir… good morning. I—I hope I am not disturbing you. You asked for the preliminary reports on the Eternity merger.”**

I didn't even look up. I was busy scraping the last bit of upma from the container.

**Rudra:** (My voice was calm, utterly dismissive of his shock) **“You’re not disturbing me, Laksh. Just tell me the highlights. And yes, the reports are on the left. What's the latest valuation on the French assets?”**

Laksh managed to compose himself, but his gaze kept flicking back to the food, looking utterly bewildered that his ruthless CEO was eating homemade breakfast like a college student.

**Laksh:** (Clearing his throat) **“The French valuation is stable, sir. But... *sir, yeh sab kya hai?* You usually have your protein shake at 10 AM. Is... is everything alright, sir?”** (Sir, what is all this?)

I finally looked up, fixing him with a stare cold enough to remind him exactly who he was talking to.

**Rudra:** **“Everything is perfectly alright, Laksh. This is called breakfast. Something Ishita Sharma made for me.”** I deliberately emphasized her name. **“Now focus on the valuation. My metabolism is not your job.”**

Laksh immediately snapped back to professional mode, though his eyes widened slightly at the direct mention of Ishita. He knew the rules: what's mine is never questioned.

**Laksh:** **“Right, sir. Apologies. The valuation is 15 billion. Sir, we need to go to Eternity today. Mr. Chopra is waiting for the final signatures, and there is so much paperwork pending for the acquisition. Your presence is essential.”**

**Rudra:** (I finished the upma, closed the lid of the lunchbox, and stood up—the businessman instantly replacing the sentimental man) **“Eternity. Fine. We’ll go. But schedule it for late afternoon. I have a commitment here first.”**

**Laksh:** **“A commitment, sir? Is it… personal?”**

**Rudra:** **“It’s professional, Laksh. I need to make sure my biggest investment risk is adequately prepared for the afternoon shoot. Tell Chopra that Rudra Singh Rathor waits for no one, but he is currently prioritizing his project assets.”**

Laksh nodded, already pulling out his phone to relay the impossible message.

**Laksh:** **“Understood, sir. Car will be ready at 3 PM for Eternity. And sir, shall I get this box cleaned? It looks… home-made.”**

I picked up the white lunchbox myself.

**Rudra:** **“No. You will not touch this box. I will return it myself. Now go. And clear my schedule for the next three hours. I need absolute silence to monitor my ‘inefficiency.’”**

Laksh hesitated, then bowed slightly, trying to suppress the clear shock on his face as he left the cabin.

I stood there for a moment, the heavy files forgotten. I was heading into a multi-billion dollar acquisition, but the only thing I cared about was the small girl on the floor below, whom I now needed to watch over until the moment I could drive her home.