Tavish never thought he'd see the day when he, a demon who once ruled with fire and chaos, would be crouched on the ground, playing a ridiculous game of tag with a group of overenthusiastic children. And yet, here he was.
He blamed Dhriti.
It had started innocently enough. She had introduced him to the kids, all bright-eyed and full of energy, their laughter ringing through the air like tiny bells.
"This is Tavish," Dhriti had said, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips. "He's... well, he's still figuring out what he's good at."
Tavish had shot her a sharp look, but before he could argue, a child no older than six grabbed his hand. "Bhaiya, you play with us?"
There had been no way out.
So now, Tavish found himself in the middle of an orphanage courtyard, surrounded by kids who had no idea they were dragging a literal demon king into their games. He dodged, weaved, and—okay, maybe used just a tiny bit of supernatural speed to avoid being caught. The children shrieked in delight, unaware of his little trickery.
Across the yard, Dhriti leaned against a pillar, watching with an expression that was far too amused for his liking.
"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" he muttered, dodging another child attempting to tag him.
"Very much," she called back.
One of the older boys, clearly the self-appointed leader of the group, ran up to Dhriti and tugged at her sleeve. "Didi, Tavish bhaiya is really fast!"
"Oh?" Dhriti lifted a brow. "Is he faster than all of you?"
The boy grinned. "Not for long!"
Tavish didn’t like the way they were suddenly conspiring.
Before he could react, three kids tackled his legs, another jumped onto his back, and chaos erupted as they finally caught him.
"Victory!" one of them declared.
Dhriti laughed. It was soft, genuine.
Tavish, still pinned under an army of tiny humans, narrowed his eyes at her. "You planned this, didn’t you?"
She gave him an innocent look. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
Tavish huffed, pushing himself up as the kids finally released him. His gaze drifted back to Dhriti, who was now gathering them in a circle, preparing for the next activity.
And for a moment, just a brief one, he simply watched her.
She wasn’t in her usual element—no corporate meetings, no cold efficiency. Here, she was just… Dhriti. A woman who had taken an entire day off just to make these kids smile.
His chest tightened.
"You’re not as bad as you pretend to be," Dhriti said suddenly, catching his gaze.
Tavish blinked. "I literally set things on fire for fun."he said, maybe for the millionth time
She smirked. "And yet, you’re here."
Before he could find a response, a voice interrupted them.
"Dhriti Ma’am," one of the orphanage staff members approached, looking slightly hesitant. "The person you were waiting for has arrived."
Dhriti’s expression changed instantly—still composed, but there was something else there. Something guarded.
Tavish, curiosity piqued, followed as she made her way toward the entrance.
The moment they stepped outside, Dhriti's entire demeanor softened.
An elderly man stood at the gate, his posture proud despite his age. His silver hair was neatly combed back, his presence exuding quiet authority.
Tavish didn’t need to be told who he was. He could see it in the way Dhriti’s lips parted slightly, the way she hesitated just a second before stepping forward.
And then—without a word—she bent down and touched his feet.
Tavish stilled.
"Bless you, beta," the old man said, his voice warm and affectionate. He placed a gentle hand on her head before she straightened.
"How are you, Dadu?" Dhriti asked, her tone softer than Tavish had ever heard.
The old man smiled, but there was a hint of something wistful in his expression. "I would be better if you finally decided to see your family, at least visit them once. I know it's hard, but for how long Dhriti, for how long are you planning to stay alone and buried in your work?"
Dhriti’s fingers tightened around the small box in her hands. Tavish noticed how her posture tensed, the way her eyes flickered with something unspoken.
Instead of answering, she held out the sweets she had brought from the temple. "Here. I brought these for you."
The change of subject was obvious. Too obvious.
Her grandfather exhaled, accepting the box. "Dhriti—"
But before he could continue, she smiled—a practiced one. "The kids are waiting to cut the cake, Dadu. Let’s go inside."
The conversation was over before it could begin.
Tavish, watching the exchange with sharp eyes, realized something then—this wasn’t just a visit. This was an avoidance.
Something was keeping Dhriti away from her family.
And for the first time, he wanted to know why.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted back to warmth and celebration. The children gathered around as a large cake was placed before them, candles lit.
Dhriti clapped her hands together. "Alright, who’s ready for cake?"
A chorus of excited cheers rang out.
As the cake was cut, Tavish noticed how the elderly man—Dhriti’s dadu—watched her closely. Not with disapproval, but with quiet longing.
When the initial excitement settled, Dhriti handed her grandfather a neatly wrapped box. "Here. This is for you."
Her dadu raised a brow. "What is it?"
"Just open it."
As he carefully unwrapped the box, his eyes widened. A Rolex. Classic, elegant.
"You remembered," he murmured.
Dhriti’s smile softened. "Of course, I did."
For a brief second, there was nothing but warmth between them.
And then his gaze flickered past her—to Tavish.
The moment stretched.
"And who is this?" her grandfather asked.
Dhriti didn’t even hesitate. "My assistant."
Something in Tavish twitched. That’s all he got? "Assistant"?
Her dadu’s brows furrowed slightly. "Oh, the one you hired recently?"
She nodded.
There was a pause.
"And why is he here?"
Silence settled between them.
"You never bring anyone here," her dadu continued, studying her. "Not even Aaradhya. In all these years, you’ve never once brought an assistant to this place. So why him?"
The room seemed to quiet.
Tavish, despite himself, tilted his head slightly, curious about her answer.
Dhriti’s fingers curled slightly at her sides, her expression unreadable.
And then, instead of answering—she smiled.
"Because he insisted and whined like a kid." she answered remembering how his words from earlier about how he would make her regret her decision.
Tavish let out a short laugh. "You wound me, Dhriti."
Her grandfather, however, didn’t look entirely convinced. He glanced at them again, studying the way they interacted, the banter between them feeling... different. Familiar in a way that an assistant and boss wouldn’t have. It wasn’t just playful—it was more. A certain unspoken understanding passed between them, something her grandfather seemed to notice with more clarity than Tavish expected.
"Dhriti," he said slowly, "I’ve never seen you so... comfortable with someone like this."
The words hung in the air, and Tavish, for the first time, felt like there was more to Dhriti than she let on. The way she interacted with him—it was different. Her eyes held something deep, a wall she was struggling to keep up. Something she was hiding. He wasn’t used to seeing that in her—this side of her that had always been so composed, so calculated.
It unsettled him, in a way he hadn’t expected.
Her grandfather’s gaze shifted from Dhriti to Tavish, and though he said nothing, Tavish could feel the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the room.
"Well," Dhriti said, her voice light but with a sharpness to it, "I’m glad you like the watch, Dadu. But there’s a lot more cake to be had. Let’s not waste any more time."
With that, the conversation, like many before it, shifted. But Tavish couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
There was more to Dhriti—so much more—and today, for the first time, he really wanted to know what it was.
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