The moment Lavanya opened the balcony door, she stopped.

For several seconds, she simply stared.

The balcony was huge.

Actually—

Calling it a balcony felt wrong.

This was practically another room.

A very expensive room.

A very rich-people room.

A very rich-people-who-didn't-know-what-to-do-with-their-money room.

There was a swing near one corner.

A small tea table beside it.

A comfortable sofa set.

Several decorative lights.

And enough space for ten or twelve people to sit comfortably.

Lavanya blinked.

Then blinked again.

"Yeh balcony hai ya park?"

(Is this a balcony or a park?)

Nobody answered.

Because she was alone.

Which was honestly rude.

Slowly, she stepped outside.

The evening breeze immediately touched her face.

The garden below stretched endlessly.

Trees.

Flowers.

Walking paths.

Fountains.

Everything looked beautiful.

Suspiciously beautiful.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then they landed on the empty railing.

Immediately another thought appeared.

"Hmmm..."

She crossed her arms.

Something was missing.

Definitely missing.

A few moments later her eyes widened.

"Plants!"

Of course.

That was the problem.

The balcony needed more plants.

Many more plants.

"If I put mogra along the railing..."

Her eyes brightened.

"It would look perfect."

She could already imagine it.

A few large pots placed at the corners.

The mogra branches trained along the railing.

White flowers everywhere.

The entire balcony smelling wonderful at night.

Then her gaze shifted toward the swing.

"Chameli."

The answer came instantly.

Chameli vines around the swing structure.

White flowers hanging from above.

A perfect reading corner.

A perfect tea corner.

A perfect "ignore the Rathores" corner.

Satisfied, she nodded.

"Bilkul perfect."

(Absolutely perfect.)

Then paused.

"Baad mein dekhenge."

(We'll see later.)

After all—

She had arrived only a few hours ago.

Decorating someone else's balcony on Day One seemed slightly inappropriate.

Only slightly.

After taking one final look around, she returned inside.

Immediately her expression brightened.

Books.

Her precious books.

Finally.

Something familiar.

She picked one up.

Then another.

Then another.

For several moments she simply stared at them.

Then grabbed a novel and walked back toward the swing.

A few minutes later she was comfortably seated.

Novel in lap.

Legs tucked beneath her.

Completely at peace.

Time passed quietly.

The breeze remained cool.

The garden remained beautiful.

And Lavanya remained lost inside her book.

Eventually her attention drifted away from the pages.

Her gaze moved toward the sky.

Then toward the garden.

Then nowhere in particular.

And slowly...

Her thoughts returned to Vanya.

The real Vanya.

According to the memories she had inherited—

Vanya wasn't a bad person.

Not originally.

She had been cheerful.

Sweet.

Kind.

A little stubborn.

Especially with her father.

But never cruel.

Never manipulative.

Never obsessed.

Lavanya frowned.

Because something didn't make sense.

The original novel's Vanya and the real Vanya felt like two completely different people.

One was a bright teenage girl.

The other became the villainess everyone hated.

What happened?

What changed?

Her fingers tightened around the book.

The answer was probably here.

Inside Rathore Mansion.

Somewhere.

Something had broken Vanya.

Something had changed her.

And Lavanya intended to find out what it was.

"I'll definitely figure it out."

She muttered quietly.

Because nobody became a villain overnight.

Lost in thought, she continued reading.

One chapter became two.

Two became three.

Three became...

She had no idea.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Lavanya blinked.

Slowly returning to reality.

For a moment she looked around in confusion.

Then noticed something strange.

The sky was dark.

Very dark.

Night had already arrived.

At some point—

The balcony lights had turned on automatically.

Warm golden lights glowed around the swing.

Soft lighting illuminated the railing.

The garden below sparkled beautifully.

For several seconds she simply stared.

Then narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't switch these on."

A pause.

"Maybe rich people balconies have sensors."

Another pause.

"Rich people things."

Knock.

Knock.

"Oh."

Right.

The door.

She carefully placed the novel aside and walked inside.

Then opened the door.

A maid stood outside.

"Miss, everyone is waiting for you for dinner."

Lavanya immediately nodded.

"Theek hai."

(Alright.)

Then she hesitated.

"Waise..."

(By the way...)

The maid waited patiently.

"Please mujhe Miss mat bulaiye."

(Please don't call me Miss.)

The maid looked surprised.

"Ji?"

"Miss sunke ajeeb lagta hai."

(It feels strange hearing Miss.)

The maid smiled politely.

"I'm sorry, Miss. We cannot do that."

Lavanya groaned internally.

Of course.

Naturally.

Obviously.

"Rich people things."

She muttered under her breath.

Unfortunately—

The maid heard it.

A small smile appeared on her face.

A few minutes later they reached the dining area.

Lavanya looked around.

Then looked around again.

Then one more time.

Just to suffer properly.

Because of course it was huge.

Why wouldn't it be huge?

Everything in this mansion was huge.

The hall was huge.

The balcony was huge.

The room was huge.

Now the dining area was huge.

At this point she was beginning to suspect that normal-sized objects weren't allowed inside Rathore Mansion.

And somewhere deep inside—

She was already preparing herself for dinner with the Rathores.

Which, considering the novel...

Could either be completely normal.

Or a disaster.

Knowing her luck—

Probably a disaster.

How many people lived here?

Six.

How many people could this table seat?

At least twenty.

Rich people were strange.

Very strange.

Her gaze moved across the table.

Vikram sat at the head.

The five Rathore brothers were seated on either side.

One chair beside Vikram remained empty.

Clearly waiting for her.

Vikram noticed her standing near the entrance.

"Baitho."

(Sit.)

Vanya nodded.

"Theek hai."

(Okay.)

She walked forward and sat beside him.

Immediately servants began placing dishes on the table.

One after another.

And another.

And another.

Vanya watched everything carefully.

A large bowl of fresh vegetable salad.

Sprouts salad.

Grilled vegetables.

Mixed vegetable soup.

Paneer tikka.

Fruit platter.

Steamed vegetables.

A bowl of yogurt.

Several healthy dips.

And some multigrain bread.

The servants finally stepped back.

Silence filled the table.

Everyone began serving themselves.

Vanya waited.

Then waited some more.

Then looked around.

Then looked around again.

A few more seconds passed.

Finally—

She looked at Vikram.

"Uncle?"

"Hm."

"Main dinner kahan hai?"

(Where is the dinner?)

Nobody reacted.

Vikram calmly looked at her.

"Yahi hai."

(This is the dinner.)

Vanya blinked.

Then blinked again.

"No."

A pause.

"What?"

"Yeh dinner nahi hai."

(This is not dinner.)

"It is."

"Nahi."

(It isn't.)

"It is."

Vanya looked personally offended.

Then pointed dramatically at the table.

"Uncle, yeh toh main snacks mein kha leti hoon."

(Uncle, I eat this as snacks.)

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then she pointed at the dishes one by one.

"Yeh salad hai."

(This is salad.)

"Yeh sprouts hai."

(This is sprouts.)

"Yeh soup hai."

(This is soup.)

"Yeh grilled vegetables hai."

(These are grilled vegetables.)

She looked directly at Vikram.

"Dinner kahan hai?"

(Where is the dinner?)

Across the table, Arjun quietly lowered his glass.

Because he had a feeling this conversation was going somewhere interesting.

Meanwhile—

Kabir immediately looked away.

His shoulders shook slightly.

Veeransh kicked him under the table.

Hard.

Kabir stopped moving.

Mostly.

Vikram remained completely calm.

"This is dinner."

Vanya stared.

For several seconds she simply stared.

Then slowly—

Very slowly—

She turned toward the table again.

"Aap log roz yahi khate ho?"

(You people eat this every day?)

"Mostly."

The horror on her face was immediate.

Absolute horror.

"Mahadeva..."

She whispered.

Then folded her hands dramatically.

"Ab samajh aaya."

(Now I understand.)

Nobody spoke.

"Ab samajh aaya itne fit kaise ho."

(Now I understand how you're all so fit.)

A pause.

"Khane ko kuch milta hi nahi."

(You don't get actual food to eat.)

For the first time—

Arjun choked on water.

Kabir lowered his head.

Rudra's expression twitched slightly.

Veeransh looked away.

Even Aarav briefly glanced up from his plate.

Vikram sighed.

"Vanya."

"Ji?"

(Yes?)

"This is healthy food."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

Vanya looked personally offended.

"Healthy food alag cheez hai."

(Healthy food is a different thing.)

"Food alag cheez hai."

(Food is a different thing.)

The room fell silent.

Again.

She pointed toward the salad.

"Yeh starter."

(This is a starter.)

Then toward the soup.

"Yeh bhi starter."

(This is also a starter.)

Then toward the sprouts.

"Yeh punishment."

(This is punishment.)

Kabir nearly died.

A violent cough escaped him.

Everyone immediately looked at him.

"I am fine."

He said quickly.

Vanya nodded sympathetically.

"Dekha?"

(See?)

"Sprouts dekh ke inka bhi system reject kar raha hai."

(Even his system is rejecting the sprouts.)

Kabir grabbed his glass.

Because if he laughed, Veeransh would probably kill him.

Meanwhile Vanya finally served herself some paneer tikka.

At least that looked normal.

Somewhat.

She took a bite.

Then another.

Then another.

A few moments later she sighed.

"Daal."

(Lentils.)

Silence.

"Roti."

(Flatbread.)

Silence.

"Rice."

Silence.

"Sabzi."

(Vegetable curry.)

Silence.

She looked at the ceiling.

"Bas itni si khwahish thi."

(I only had such small wishes.)

Vikram ignored her completely.

Which somehow made the situation worse.

Much worse.

Because now she was convinced.

Absolutely convinced.

That the Rathores were surviving on snacks and calling it dinner.

And that was honestly terrifying.

Humming a random song under her breath, Vanya walked toward the kitchen.

Her mission was simple.

Find breakfast.

Find edible breakfast.

Most importantly-

Avoid boiled eggs.

A few minutes later, she entered the kitchen.

The moment she stepped inside-

Every chef and servant froze.

Then turned toward her in shock.

Because in this house-

Nobody entered the kitchen.

Not Vikram.

Not Rudra.

Not Veeransh.

Not Kabir.

Not Arjun.

Not even Aarav.

The only family member who used to come occasionally was Sanvi Rathore.

And she had passed away years ago.

So seeing Vanya casually walk into the kitchen at seven in the morning-

Was enough to confuse everyone.

Completely.

Vanya smiled politely.

"Good morning."

Everyone immediately greeted her back.

"Good morning, Miss."

Vanya nodded.

Then got straight to the important topic.

Food.

"Chef Uncle, breakfast mein kya hai?"

(What's for breakfast, Chef Uncle?)

The chef blinked.

Not because of the question.

Because of the "Uncle."

Nobody had ever called him that before.

Still, he smiled.

"Miss, breakfast mein boiled eggs, omelette, fruit salad, avocado toast-"

Vanya's smile disappeared.

Instantly.

Her soul left her body.

"As expected."

She thought.

"I am not eating this."

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

After a moment she asked hopefully,

"Chef Uncle, aapke paas murmura hai?"

(Do you have murmura?)

The chef looked confused.

"Murmura?"

Vanya nodded.

"Haan."

Then quickly explained.

"Jisse bhel puri banate hain."

(The one used to make bhel puri.)

Understanding appeared on his face.

"Oh."

Unfortunately-

He shook his head.

"Nahi, Miss."

(We don't have it.)

"We can arrange it by afternoon."

Vanya immediately looked disappointed.

"Agar murmura hota toh main susla banati."

(If there was murmura, I would have made susla.)

The chef looked curious.

"Susla?"

Vanya nodded.

" North Karnataka mein breakfast mein khate hain."

( It is north karnataka breakfast)

"Bohot tasty hota hai."

(It is very tasty.)

Then she sighed dramatically.

"Lekin kismat hi kharab hai."

(But my luck is bad.)

The kitchen staff tried not to laugh.

A fifteen-year-old looking heartbroken over missing murmura was surprisingly adorable.

Suddenly Vanya remembered something.

Her eyes lit up.

"Poha hai?"

(Do you have poha?)

The chef immediately nodded.

"Haan, Miss."

Vanya looked like she had found treasure.

"Perfect!"

Then she started listing ingredients.

"Poha."

"Oil."

"Shenga."

(Peanuts.)

"Bhuna chana."

"Pyaaz."

(Onion)

"Karipatta."

(Curry leaves.)

"Dhaniya."

"Jeera."

"Rai."

"Namak."

"Haldi."

"Mirchi powder."

The chef stared.

The servants stared.

Vanya continued confidently.

"Bas itna hi."

(That's all.)

The chef blinked.

"Miss... kyun?"

(Why?)

Vanya looked confused.

"Poha banaungi."

(I'll make poha.)

"Simple."

The entire kitchen went silent.

Then the chef immediately shook his head.

"Nahi, Miss."

(Absolutely not.)

"We will make it."

"You don't need to worry."

Vanya crossed her arms.

"But mujhe banana hai."

(But I want to make it.)

The chef looked horrified.

"Sir naraz ho jayenge."

(Sir will get angry.)

Vanya immediately switched tactics.

Dangerous tactics.

Puppy eyes.

"Please, Uncle."

The chef looked away.

It was ineffective.

For exactly two seconds.

"Pleaseee..."

She dragged the word.

"I'll tell Uncle Vikram."

"He won't scold you."

The chef looked defeated.

Completely defeated.

Finally-

He sighed.

"Theek hai."

(Fine.)

The victory was hers.

Vanya literally bounced on her feet.

"Thank you, Uncle!"

The kitchen staff smiled.

Without realizing it-

The girl had already made the atmosphere lighter.

Soon ingredients were placed before her.

Vanya washed the poha.

Prepared everything.

And began cooking.

The kitchen slowly filled with the sound of sizzling mustard seeds.

Then curry leaves.

Then onions.

Then peanuts.

The aroma spread instantly.

A few minutes later-

The fragrance of freshly made poha drifted out of the kitchen.

And into the rest of Rathore Mansion.

Unfortunately for Vanya-

She was too busy cooking to realize that several Rathores were about to follow that smell.

After making the poha, Vanya turned toward the chef.

"Uncle, main haath aur face wash karke aati hoon."

(Uncle, I'll go wash my hands and face and come back.)

The chef nodded.

"Ji, Miss."

Vanya immediately sighed.

"Uncleee..."

The chef looked at her.

"Ji?"

"Please mujhe Miss mat bulaiye."

(Please don't call me Miss.)

The kitchen staff blinked.

Vanya continued.

"Mujhe pata hai aap mera naam nahi bulaoge."

(I know you won't call me by my name.)

"Lekin Miss bhi mat boliye."

(But don't call me Miss either.)

"It sounds old."

The chef almost laughed.

"Toh kya bulaun?"

(Then what should I call you?)

Vanya thought for a moment.

Then smiled.

"Kuch bhi bula lijiye."

(Call me anything.)

"Bas formal mat hoiye."

(Just don't be formal.)

The chef's expression softened.

"Theek hai..."

(Fine...)

"Beti."

(Daughter.)

Vanya immediately grinned.

"Perfect."

Then she happily walked out of the kitchen.

The chef found himself smiling.

Strange.

The girl had only been here for a day.

Yet somehow she had already brightened the entire kitchen.

Some time later...

The Rathores gathered for breakfast.

One by one they took their seats.

Vikram sat at the head of the table.

Rudra and Veeransh looked as serious as always.

Aarav remained silent.

Arjun was reading something on his phone.

Kabir looked half asleep.

Soon servants began serving breakfast.

Boiled eggs.

Omelette.

Fruit salad.

Avocado toast.

The usual menu.

Then-

Vanya arrived.

She took her seat beside Vikram.

A servant appeared carrying a covered container.

The moment the lid was opened-

A fresh aroma spread throughout the dining room.

Everyone looked up.

Even Aarav.

The fragrance was warm.

Comforting.

Homely.

For a brief moment-

Nobody paid attention to their own breakfast.

Their attention remained on the container.

Kabir finally broke the silence.

"What is that?"

His eyes narrowed.

"And why does it smell better than our breakfast?"

Vanya looked offended.

"Because it is better."

Kabir almost choked.

The servant placed the container in front of her.

Veeransh noticed something.

"There isn't much."

Rudra nodded.

Enough for only two people.

Not more.

Kabir immediately asked,

"Why did you only make enough for two people?"

Before the chef could answer-

Vanya picked up a plate.

Served some poha.

Then walked toward the chef.

Everyone watched in surprise.

She handed him the plate.

"Uncle, yeh aapke liye."

(Uncle, this is for you.)

The chef froze.

"You helped me."

"You were very nice."

"And I made extra for you."

The chef looked genuinely touched.

"Beti, maine toh sirf ingredients diye the."

(Daughter, I only provided the ingredients.)

Vanya shook her head.

"Haan."

(Yes.)

"Lekin aapne mujhe kitchen use karne diya."

(But you let me use the kitchen.)

"So you deserve poha."

The chef smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Beti."

Only then did he accept the plate.

Meanwhile-

The Rathores stared.

Especially Vikram.

Because he suddenly realized something.

The first homemade food she had made in this house-

Wasn't for him.

It wasn't even for herself.

It was for the chef.

For some reason-

He didn't like that.

Not one bit.

Across the table-

The brothers felt the same.

Though none of them understood why.

Vanya returned to her seat.

Served herself the remaining poha.

The container was now empty.

Vikram finally spoke.

"Tumne poha banaya?"

(You made poha?)

Vanya nodded proudly.

"Haan, Uncle."

(Yes, Uncle.)

"You could have asked the chef to make it."

Vanya immediately shook her head.

"Nahi."

(No.)

"I wanted to make it myself."

Then she quickly added,

"Aur Uncle, please Chef Uncle ko daantna mat."

(And Uncle, please don't scold Chef Uncle.)

"I forced him."

The chef almost laughed.

Forced?

More like emotionally blackmailed with puppy eyes.

Vikram glanced at the chef.

Then back at Vanya.

"Theek hai."

(Fine.)

The relief on her face was immediate.

Then Vikram asked,

"Ek baat batao."

(Tell me one thing.)

"Poha sirf do logon ke liye kyun banaya?"

(Why did you make poha for only two people?)

Vanya looked confused.

"Asaan hai."

(It's simple.)

Everyone waited.

"It has oil."

A pause.

"And you all eat healthy food."

Another pause.

"So obviously aap log nahi khaoge."

(So obviously you all won't eat it.)

The dining table fell silent.

For a moment nobody knew what to say.

Because from Vanya's perspective-

It was perfectly logical.

Meanwhile, the aroma of poha continued spreading across the dining room.

Fresh coriander.

Roasted peanuts.

Curry leaves.

The smell was making everyone's breakfast seem less appealing.

Especially Kabir's.

Kabir looked at his boiled eggs.

Then at Vanya's poha.

Then at his boiled eggs again.

Life was unfair.

Very unfair.

Even Rudra glanced once toward the empty poha container.

Then quickly looked away.

Veeransh remained expressionless.

But internally he regretted choosing fruit salad today.

Arjun hid a smile.

The poha genuinely smelled delicious.

Even Aarav's gaze briefly landed on the empty container before returning to his plate.

Meanwhile-

The cause of everyone's suffering sat happily eating.

Completely unaware.

The chef cleared his throat and hid a smile.

Across the table, the brothers exchanged brief looks.

Yesterday they had assumed she was a spoiled rich girl.

Today she had woken up early.

Gone to the kitchen herself.

Cooked her own breakfast.

And shared half of it with the chef simply because he had helped her.

That wasn't exactly what they had expected.

Not even close.

Vikram watched the scene silently.

Then his gaze landed on the empty poha container.

A container that had once been full.

A container that now belonged entirely to the chef and Vanya.

For some reason-

He wasn't pleased.

The chef had received homemade poha.

He had received boiled eggs.

How was that fair?

The dining hall remained quiet.

While Vanya happily enjoyed her breakfast.

And for the first time in years-

The Rathores regretted their healthy breakfast menu.

Humming a random song under her breath, Vanya walked toward the kitchen.

Her mission was simple.

Find breakfast.

Find edible breakfast.

Most importantly-

Avoid boiled eggs.

A few minutes later, she entered the kitchen.

The moment she stepped inside-

Every chef and servant froze.

Then turned toward her in shock.

Because in this house-

Nobody entered the kitchen.

Not Vikram.

Not Rudra.

Not Veeransh.

Not Kabir.

Not Arjun.

Not even Aarav.

The only family member who used to come occasionally was Sanvi Rathore.

And she had passed away years ago.

So seeing Vanya casually walk into the kitchen at seven in the morning-

Was enough to confuse everyone.

Completely.

Vanya smiled politely.

"Good morning."

Everyone immediately greeted her back.

"Good morning, Miss."

Vanya nodded.

Then got straight to the important topic.

Food.

"Chef Uncle, breakfast mein kya hai?"

(What's for breakfast, Chef Uncle?)

The chef blinked.

Not because of the question.

Because of the "Uncle."

Nobody had ever called him that before.

Still, he smiled.

"Miss, breakfast mein boiled eggs, omelette, fruit salad, avocado toast-"

Vanya's smile disappeared.

Instantly.

Her soul left her body.

"As expected."

She thought.

"I am not eating this."

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

After a moment she asked hopefully,

"Chef Uncle, aapke paas murmura hai?"

(Do you have murmura?)

The chef looked confused.

"Murmura?"

Vanya nodded.

"Haan."

Then quickly explained.

"Jisse bhel puri banate hain."

(The one used to make bhel puri.)

Understanding appeared on his face.

"Oh."

Unfortunately-

He shook his head.

"Nahi, Miss."

(We don't have it.)

"We can arrange it by afternoon."

Vanya immediately looked disappointed.

"Agar murmura hota toh main susla banati."

(If there was murmura, I would have made susla.)

The chef looked curious.

"Susla?"

Vanya nodded.

" North Karnataka mein breakfast mein khate hain."

( It is north karnataka breakfast)

"Bohot tasty hota hai."

(It is very tasty.)

Then she sighed dramatically.

"Lekin kismat hi kharab hai."

(But my luck is bad.)

The kitchen staff tried not to laugh.

A fifteen-year-old looking heartbroken over missing murmura was surprisingly adorable.

Suddenly Vanya remembered something.

Her eyes lit up.

"Poha hai?"

(Do you have poha?)

The chef immediately nodded.

"Haan, Miss."

Vanya looked like she had found treasure.

"Perfect!"

Then she started listing ingredients.

"Poha."

"Oil."

"Shenga."

(Peanuts.)

"Bhuna chana."

"Pyaaz."

(Onion)

"Karipatta."

(Curry leaves.)

"Dhaniya."

"Jeera."

"Rai."

"Namak."

"Haldi."

"Mirchi powder."

The chef stared.

The servants stared.

Vanya continued confidently.

"Bas itna hi."

(That's all.)

The chef blinked.

"Miss... kyun?"

(Why?)

Vanya looked confused.

"Poha banaungi."

(I'll make poha.)

"Simple."

The entire kitchen went silent.

Then the chef immediately shook his head.

"Nahi, Miss."

(Absolutely not.)

"We will make it."

"You don't need to worry."

Vanya crossed her arms.

"But mujhe banana hai."

(But I want to make it.)

The chef looked horrified.

"Sir naraz ho jayenge."

(Sir will get angry.)

Vanya immediately switched tactics.

Dangerous tactics.

Puppy eyes.

"Please, Uncle."

The chef looked away.

It was ineffective.

For exactly two seconds.

"Pleaseee..."

She dragged the word.

"I'll tell Uncle Vikram."

"He won't scold you."

The chef looked defeated.

Completely defeated.

Finally-

He sighed.

"Theek hai."

(Fine.)

The victory was hers.

Vanya literally bounced on her feet.

"Thank you, Uncle!"

The kitchen staff smiled.

Without realizing it-

The girl had already made the atmosphere lighter.

Soon ingredients were placed before her.

Vanya washed the poha.

Prepared everything.

And began cooking.

The kitchen slowly filled with the sound of sizzling mustard seeds.

Then curry leaves.

Then onions.

Then peanuts.

The aroma spread instantly.

A few minutes later-

The fragrance of freshly made poha drifted out of the kitchen.

And into the rest of Rathore Mansion.

Unfortunately for Vanya-

She was too busy cooking to realize that several Rathores were about to follow that smell.

After making the poha, Vanya turned toward the chef.

"Uncle, main haath aur face wash karke aati hoon."

(Uncle, I'll go wash my hands and face and come back.)

The chef nodded.

"Ji, Miss."

Vanya immediately sighed.

"Uncleee..."

The chef looked at her.

"Ji?"

"Please mujhe Miss mat bulaiye."

(Please don't call me Miss.)

The kitchen staff blinked.

Vanya continued.

"Mujhe pata hai aap mera naam nahi bulaoge."

(I know you won't call me by my name.)

"Lekin Miss bhi mat boliye."

(But don't call me Miss either.)

"It sounds old."

The chef almost laughed.

"Toh kya bulaun?"

(Then what should I call you?)

Vanya thought for a moment.

Then smiled.

"Kuch bhi bula lijiye."

(Call me anything.)

"Bas formal mat hoiye."

(Just don't be formal.)

The chef's expression softened.

"Theek hai..."

(Fine...)

"Beti."

(Daughter.)

Vanya immediately grinned.

"Perfect."

Then she happily walked out of the kitchen.

The chef found himself smiling.

Strange.

The girl had only been here for a day.

Yet somehow she had already brightened the entire kitchen.

Some time later...

The Rathores gathered for breakfast.

One by one they took their seats.

Vikram sat at the head of the table.

Rudra and Veeransh looked as serious as always.

Aarav remained silent.

Arjun was reading something on his phone.

Kabir looked half asleep.

Soon servants began serving breakfast.

Boiled eggs.

Omelette.

Fruit salad.

Avocado toast.

The usual menu.

Then-

Vanya arrived.

She took her seat beside Vikram.

A servant appeared carrying a covered container.

The moment the lid was opened-

A fresh aroma spread throughout the dining room.

Everyone looked up.

Even Aarav.

The fragrance was warm.

Comforting.

Homely.

For a brief moment-

Nobody paid attention to their own breakfast.

Their attention remained on the container.

Kabir finally broke the silence.

"What is that?"

His eyes narrowed.

"And why does it smell better than our breakfast?"

Vanya looked offended.

"Because it is better."

Kabir almost choked.

The servant placed the container in front of her.

Veeransh noticed something.

"There isn't much."

Rudra nodded.

Enough for only two people.

Not more.

Kabir immediately asked,

"Why did you only make enough for two people?"

Before the chef could answer-

Vanya picked up a plate.

Served some poha.

Then walked toward the chef.

Everyone watched in surprise.

She handed him the plate.

"Uncle, yeh aapke liye."

(Uncle, this is for you.)

The chef froze.

"You helped me."

"You were very nice."

"And I made extra for you."

The chef looked genuinely touched.

"Beti, maine toh sirf ingredients diye the."

(Daughter, I only provided the ingredients.)

Vanya shook her head.

"Haan."

(Yes.)

"Lekin aapne mujhe kitchen use karne diya."

(But you let me use the kitchen.)

"So you deserve poha."

The chef smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Beti."

Only then did he accept the plate.

Meanwhile-

The Rathores stared.

Especially Vikram.

Because he suddenly realized something.

The first homemade food she had made in this house-

Wasn't for him.

It wasn't even for herself.

It was for the chef.

For some reason-

He didn't like that.

Not one bit.

Across the table-

The brothers felt the same.

Though none of them understood why.

Vanya returned to her seat.

Served herself the remaining poha.

The container was now empty.

Vikram finally spoke.

"Tumne poha banaya?"

(You made poha?)

Vanya nodded proudly.

"Haan, Uncle."

(Yes, Uncle.)

"You could have asked the chef to make it."

Vanya immediately shook her head.

"Nahi."

(No.)

"I wanted to make it myself."

Then she quickly added,

"Aur Uncle, please Chef Uncle ko daantna mat."

(And Uncle, please don't scold Chef Uncle.)

"I forced him."

The chef almost laughed.

Forced?

More like emotionally blackmailed with puppy eyes.

Vikram glanced at the chef.

Then back at Vanya.

"Theek hai."

(Fine.)

The relief on her face was immediate.

Then Vikram asked,

"Ek baat batao."

(Tell me one thing.)

"Poha sirf do logon ke liye kyun banaya?"

(Why did you make poha for only two people?)

Vanya looked confused.

"Asaan hai."

(It's simple.)

Everyone waited.

"It has oil."

A pause.

"And you all eat healthy food."

Another pause.

"So obviously aap log nahi khaoge."

(So obviously you all won't eat it.)

The dining table fell silent.

For a moment nobody knew what to say.

Because from Vanya's perspective-

It was perfectly logical.

Meanwhile, the aroma of poha continued spreading across the dining room.

Fresh coriander.

Roasted peanuts.

Curry leaves.

The smell was making everyone's breakfast seem less appealing.

Especially Kabir's.

Kabir looked at his boiled eggs.

Then at Vanya's poha.

Then at his boiled eggs again.

Life was unfair.

Very unfair.

Even Rudra glanced once toward the empty poha container.

Then quickly looked away.

Veeransh remained expressionless.

But internally he regretted choosing fruit salad today.

Arjun hid a smile.

The poha genuinely smelled delicious.

Even Aarav's gaze briefly landed on the empty container before returning to his plate.

Meanwhile-

The cause of everyone's suffering sat happily eating.

Completely unaware.

The chef cleared his throat and hid a smile.

Across the table, the brothers exchanged brief looks.

Yesterday they had assumed she was a spoiled rich girl.

Today she had woken up early.

Gone to the kitchen herself.

Cooked her own breakfast.

And shared half of it with the chef simply because he had helped her.

That wasn't exactly what they had expected.

Not even close.

Vikram watched the scene silently.

Then his gaze landed on the empty poha container.

A container that had once been full.

A container that now belonged entirely to the chef and Vanya.

For some reason-

He wasn't pleased.

The chef had received homemade poha.

He had received boiled eggs.

How was that fair?

The dining hall remained quiet.

While Vanya happily enjoyed her breakfast.

And for the first time in years-

The Rathores regretted their healthy breakfast menu.

To be continued....