Mahir took out the ingredients for the soup and glanced at his phone for the next step. Cooking obviously wasn't rocket science, just a little attention and effort, and anyone could make a decent dish.
He'd learned that himself only after actually trying. His first few attempts had been epic disasters; he could still remember the horrible taste. Thankfully, he had experimented on his own food instead of letting his siblings suffer through that torture. Still, once he started something, he refused to quit halfway. Mahir Dhanrajgir could do anything, achieve anything. That's what the world believed, and so did he.
But right now, he was a little clueless. There were countless recipes for a simple tomato soup, each made with different ingredients and different methods. Mahir couldn’t figure out which one would be the healthiest for Radha.
"Need some help?" a playful voice came from behind.
Mahir turned and sighed in relief when he found Shreya standing at the door. "Thank God you came. I'm going crazy here. Do you know how to make tomato soup?"
Shreya nodded, entering the kitchen. Mahir set his phone aside immediately.
"Can you tell me then? There are so many recipes online, and I don’t know which one to follow."
Shreya frowned a little. "It's okay if you don't know; I'll make it..."
"Radha wants to have the one made by me." Mahir interrupted softly. "And right now, I want to do everything I can for her."
Shreya stared at him for a long moment before asking quietly, "Are you sure? Are you okay, Mahir?"
Mahir looked away. He was. He had to be. After breaking down in front of Shreya earlier, after letting his guard down and allowing someone to hold him for the first time, he felt lighter, like a knot inside him had finally loosened. But it was still new for him. Taking comfort from someone wasn't something he knew how to do. He had always been the giver, the shield, the safe place for his siblings… yet he never had one for himself.
So now, when Shreya offered him that same safety and held him when he was falling apart, Mahir felt embarrassed but also strangely relieved. Because it was his friend who stayed. His friend who saw him at his weakest and didn't step away.
"Let me check the ingredients," Shreya said, walking over to the counter.
She hadn't meant to probe. She was only worried for Mahir, and the question slipped out before she could stop herself. If Mahir had spoken to her after his little breakdown, if he had said even a few words, she wouldn't have asked now.
But instead, he had simply thanked her with that tight, shaken voice and walked away quickly, almost as if staying another second in her presence would expose too much.
Anyone else might have felt hurt. But Shreya understood Mahir. A man who had made distance with his parents and had never been held by them for his choices had suddenly been pulled into a warm hug that told him, without a single word, 'I'm here, let it all out.' Of course, he would feel awkward. Of course, he would feel exposed, embarrassed, and unsure of how to deal with comfort that wasn't familiar to him. She just hoped he was okay. That was all that mattered to her.
Soon Shreya, like an experienced chef, helped Mahir, reciting the steps on how to make the soup, and Mahir followed.
What seemed like a task to him earlier was actually very easy: putting all the ingredients on a baking tray, marinating them with a little olive oil, sprinkling salt and herbs before giving everything a light toss, and finally keeping the tray inside a preheated oven for twenty-five minutes.
The next step was just blending the roasted ingredients once they were softened and serving the hot soup.
Mahir smiled gratefully, realizing he truly depended on her more than he ever admitted. What would he have done without her?
"What are you making with paneer?" Shreya asked, confused, as Mahir took out paneer from the fridge.
"Radha ke liye soup ban raha hai… tab tak Abhi aur Arjun ke liye parathe bana du, (Soup is in the process for Radha... till then, I'll make parathas for Abhi and Arjun,)" Mahir replied casually, already planning everything in his head. "They might be hungry as well."
Shreya smiled softly. That's what she admired in Mahir the most: he always knew how to balance, how to prioritize each of his younger siblings. He always knew when to mold himself like a brother who is protective, like a mother who is soft and loving, and like a father with a little bit of a tough hand too.
Everything, without even realizing it, what he was offering to his siblings was not just his unconditional love but every role they had ever needed in one person.
Shreya had been three years junior to him in college. She still remembered those early days: frightened, overwhelmed, trying to survive in a hostel far away from home.
During ragging, when a few seniors crossed a line and tried to misbehave with her, it was Mahir who stepped in. One sharp glare from him had been enough to shut them up. In that single moment, he had protected not just her dignity, but the fragile confidence she was desperately holding on to.
Living away from her parents was already difficult, but Nirman University was one of the best places for performing arts in the country. She couldn't give that up. And in those first confusing months, when the homesickness swallowed her whole, it was Mahir's quiet companionship that kept her grounded.
He never intended to become her anchor, but he did. Sometimes by coincidence, sometimes by sheer fate, they kept ending up in each other’s orbit: small interactions, unexpected encounters, shared silences that somehow turned into comfort. And since then, she…
THUD!
The knife slipped from Mahir's hand and hit the counter, jolting her out of the little world she had drifted into. Shreya blinked hard, snapping back to reality.
She was Mahir's friend; at least in his eyes, that's all she was, and she would never risk breaking even that fragile, precious thread just because of the quiet feelings she had buried so deep within her.
In her haste to help him, and to distract herself, Sherya reached for the flour container kept on the topmost shelf. Heels weren't allowed in the kitchen; obviously, no one wore them there, but at times like this she was thoroughly annoyed.
Mahir was a good six feet plus, and she was barely a good four inches shorter. Outside the kitchen, she never let any of that bother her; she was confident, self-assured, and unapologetic.
But in this kitchen, she was frustrated. Why did Dhanrajgir men have to be so tall? And if that wasn't enough, even the women followed the same pattern; Radha was just fifteen, yet the girl was almost Shreya's height already.
Maybe that's why the interior of the house was made with every shelf and cabinet designed as if everyone living there was destined to be a skyscraper.
Shaking her head in pure irritation, Sherya pushed herself onto her tiptoes, reaching for the container, and, much to her rotten luck, the lid was loose. As she grabbed the container with both hands, it tilted, and the flour poured down on her, painting her face, hair, and half her clothes white.
Mahir, who had been chopping vegetables facing the other side, spun around at the sound and froze for a heartbeat, taking in the ghostly appearance of Shreya before he burst out in uncontrollable fits of laughter that shook his entire body.
"What's so funny, Mahir?" Shreya hissed, shaking out her hair and trying to wipe away the thick layer of flour from her clothes.
What a great impression she was setting in front of the man she desired. A funny situation for Mahir… but a nightmare for her!
"Mahir!" Her tone sharpened, as he refused to stop laughing, enjoying her flustered state a bit too much.
Mahir raised his hands in surrender, pressing his lips together, controlling himself from bursting into laughter again. She didn’t look angry; in fact, she looked too cute to him in that ridiculous situation. The dark blue jeans and black T-shirt she wore were now completely dusted in flour, yet she looked just as beautiful as before.
Sensing her frustration as she scrubbed her cheeks harshly, he stepped in, gently holding her hands to stop her.
"Aise nahi niklega woh, (It won't come off like this.)" He said softly, reaching for a handkerchief from his pocket and helping her wipe her face.
Shreya froze. Her breath hitched. She had never been this close to Mahir. They hugged, they laughed, they shared space easily, but this kind of proximity did wonders to her heart, suddenly turning it into a helpless, fluttering mess beneath her ribs.
Mahir's pace gentled; his hand moved on autopilot while his eyes were stuck on her warm brown orbs, soft, shy, shimmering under the faint kitchen light.
Something was shifting, something unspoken humming in the silence, something even he couldn’t place a name on it.
A sudden cough from behind snapped them both out of whatever moment they had slipped into.
Their heads whipped toward the source of the sound. Mahir stepped back, flustered, finding Arjun at the door. Shreya looked away, embarrassed, feeling the heat of that interrupted moment burn all the way to her ears.
Arjun leaned on the doorframe casually, crossing his arms over his chest. Devil danced in his eyes as he took in the disheveled, flour-covered state of Shreya and his brother for the first time.
More than Shreya, Mahir's flustered reaction was golden to him. To see the ever-so-composed Mahir Dhanrajgir caught in a such situation: how could he leave a golden opportunity to tease his Bhaiya just like that? No chance!
"Kya hua yaha? (What happened here?)" He asked, stepping into the kitchen.
Mahir, who heard the mischief in his brother's tone, felt like banging his head against the counter. Arjun never missed a chance to poke fun when he smelled drama.
"I—I will go and change," Shreya stammered and sprinted out of the kitchen. It wasn't like they were doing anything, yet Arjun's teasing tone flushed her entire face crimson.
"Bhaiya?" Arjun drawled. "Hmm… I guess bhukamp aaya tha yaha? Shreya ke kapdon pe atta kaise gira mein samj sakta hoon. (I guess an earthquake happened here? Well, How did flour fall on Shreya's clothes. I can understand that…) but what about yours?"
Mahir frowned and looked down where Arjun pointed. He groaned inwardly, finding flour dusted across his apron. Maybe it must have brushed onto him while he was wiping her face, and like always, his brother thought differently.
"No explanation, Bhaiya?" Arjun continued, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "So disappointing! I shouldn't have interrupted the moment… Ahhh!" He yelped in pain as Mahir kicked his shin without any remorse.
Arjun rubbed the sore spot, glaring at Mahir. "What the hell yaar? Ek toh romance aap karo… (First you do all the romance...)"
"Arjun!" Mahir warned sternly.
Arjun huffed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, my bad. You know what, Bhaiya? At this rate, you will end up becoming a legendary, forever-single bachelor."
"Maar khani hai tujhe? (Do you want to get beaten up?)" Mahir chided. "Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself. I have better things to do than focus on my nonexistent love life."
Arjun stiffened as he heard the seriousness behind the words. The teasing smile faded away with a sudden heaviness settling in his chest. He had seen the kind of bond Sherya and Mahir shared; maybe they might not have realized it yet or simply refused to acknowledge it. Arjun didn't know that. But he was sure that from where he was observing, it went deeper than the friendship they claimed to share.
The way Sherya, without even meaning to, was always there for his brother, and the way Mahir too, without even realizing it, always knew where Sherya was and how she was, her wellbeing the tiniest thing that could pull his attention no matter what he was doing, spoke volumes in itself.
Other than that, Mahir outright denying any possibility of love as if loving someone was a waste of time didn’t sit well with Arjun. His Bhaiya needed someone in his life, a person to whom he could turn when the weight got too heavy, to find steadiness when he lost his own, to let go when everything inside him tightened like a knot.
Arjun had Mahir. He didn’t believe in marriages; he had his reasons, but he didn't want his Bhaiya to think the same of it. He sounded hypocritical even to himself, and he couldn't help it. He wanted to see his brother happy for once… truly happy.
Arjun took a slow step closer, confusion mixing with frustration. "Aapka matlab kya hai Bhaiya? (What do you mean, Bhaiya?) 'Love isn't for you,' what are you even saying?"
Mahir didn't even blink, busy with his work. "Exactly what it sounds like. Love isn't for me. I have recordings lined up, meetings, and a life that doesn't wait for emotional complications."
"Meetings that aren't even yours to attend," Arjun interjected firmly. He caught Mahir's arm and turned him to face him. "Maine aapko pehle nahi pucha, (I didn't ask you earlier,) but now I want to know, what kind of deal did you make with Dad? How did he so easily sign Radha's guardianship papers? And why did you leave for that Singapore meeting when Dad was supposed to go?"
Mahir gently pulled his hand away, his voice controlled but softening. "I did what was needed, Arjun. Aaj nahi toh kal, Dad ko business mein humari zarurat padegi. (If not today, then tomorrow, Dad will need us in the business) He won't be able to handle the whole Dhanrajgir empire with his health deteriorating… so I just stepped in."
"At what cost, Bhaiya?" Arjun's voice rose, agitation bleeding through. "At your own freedom? Dad ko achhe se pata hai (Dad knows this very well) that you don't work for a music company, you don’t have any PR team. You manage everything on your own, with just your manager. And everything you do needs hours of engagement, focus… With you signing up for Radha's guardianship, you will be busy with her, and so you had to choose between business and your music. And you chose… business. Because Dad forced your hand. How is that even fair, Bhaiya? It was supposed to be me..."
His voice cracked. "I… I shouldn't have chosen what I wanted. I should have chosen business and..."
"And what about your dreams?" Mahir cut him off sharply, eyes flashing.
Arjun’s jaw tightened as he fired back with equal intensity, "What about yours then?"
The brothers stared at each other, their eyes locked in a silent, storm-filled standoff. Both were fighting not against one another's words or anger, but against each other's fears, sacrifices, and unspoken wounds.
Love! Respect! Authority! Duty! Responsibilty! Each feeling rose like a wave, colliding with the other, refusing to bow down.
Ego tried to surface, pain tried to speak, pride tried to take control; but in the end, it was respect that stood taller than all, steady and unshaken.
Arjun stepped back first, his gaze lowering on its own accord, surrendering before the man who wasn't just a brother to him; but a guide, a guardian, a second father. He turned on his heels and walked out, unable to stand there any longer and risk saying something that might hurt his Bhaiya.
Mahir's unconditional devotion to them warmed his heart in ways like a child held protectively under a father's shelter, but it also ached him, seeing his Bhaiya always putting them first without caring about his own dreams, desires, or the loneliness he hid so well.
The kitchen fell painfully silent after Arjun left. Mahir exhaled shakily. Arjun's words weren't wrong. They weren't unfair or hurtful. Everything he said was simply… true.
But truth had never been gentle with Mahir.
Slowly, he rested both palms on the counter, head hanging low as he tried to steady his breath.
Whatever the truth was, beneath it all lay a reality Mahir could never outrun. He had chosen this life long before Arjun had even begun to understand things. Long before he could grasp the twisted dynamics of the Dhanrajgir family. Long before he could understand manipulation or the cruelty wrapped in expectations.
And all of it… because someone had to carry the weight. Someone had to grow up faster. Someone had to do the right things before everything fell apart.
Otherwise, today would have been very different... dangerously different, if Mahir hadn't made the right choices back then.
Did he regret it? Never. Not as long as his siblings weren't the ones suffering. Not as long as they were united. Not as long as he was there with his siblings. Not as long as he was the shield standing between them and his parents. Mahir would never regret the choices he made!
Amazing
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