The silence in the Singh household was heavy, the kind of quiet that only happens when a normally bustling household empties out all at once. Divyash’s parents, aunts, and cousins had spent the morning in a whirlwind of silk sarees and loud laughter, packing into cars to head to a relative’s wedding function two towns over.
Divyash had stayed behind, claiming a "critical deadline" at work. It wasn't entirely a lie, but the truth was simpler: he just couldn't stomach another afternoon of being compared to his lawyer brother
He didn't expect Avni to stay. As the CEO of a business she had built from nothing but a laptop and sheer grit, her time was worth more than anyone else's in the family. Yet, when the last car pulled out of the driveway, she was still upstairs.
The rain started an hour later—a classic Mumbai downpour that blurred the windows and made the empty house feel like an island.
Divyash was in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry. He had traded his usual attire for a faded t-shirt and sweats. He looked up as Avni walked in, her hair tied in a loose, messy bun. She looked smaller without her heels, less like a titan of industry and more like... just Avni.
"You're still here," he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. "I figured you’d have your driver take you to the office the second the parents were gone."
Avni leaned against the kitchen island, watching him. "The office is flooded, the servers are twitchy, and honestly? I think I’ve earned a day off. Besides, someone had to stay back and make sure you didn't just eat cereal for dinner."
Divyash laughed, a genuine, relaxed sound. "I was actually thinking of making khichdi. It’s raining, the house is empty, and it’s the ultimate comfort food. Even for you."
Avni walked over, standing beside him. " I know exactly how to appreciate a good bowl of khichdi. Want some help? Or are you a 'one man in the kitchen' type of guy?"
"I'll take the help," he said, handing her a bag of rice. "But I'm in charge of the spices. I have a very specific system."
They fell into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. There was no one around to perform for—no parents to impress, no relatives to dodge. It was just a guy who liked to code and a woman who liked to build companies, standing over a stove.
"You know, they’re going to be annoyed you didn't come," Avni said, gesturing toward the door as she rinsed the rice. "Your mom spent twenty minutes trying to find your 'good' kurta."
Divyash sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I know. But I just... I needed a break from the noise. Every time we're all together, I feel like I'm the only person speaking a different language. They talk about court dates and case law,"
Avni turned to him, her expression softening. "I get it. When I started my company, my chachi told me it was a hobby. She said I’d be back asking for a 'stable' job within six months. People like us... we have to build our own foundations because the ones they give us don't fit."
Divyash looked at her, really looked at her. He saw the fatigue behind her eyes, the weight of a thousand decisions she had to make every day. Without thinking, he reached out, his hand hovering near hers on the counter.
"You did it, though," he whispered. "You built something incredible. You're the almighty Avni Sinha, after all."
She laughed, but it was a shy, soft sound. "Only to the press, Divyash. Right now, I'm just a girl who's really hungry."
The kitchen grew warm as the pressure cooker began to hiss. The scent of roasting cumin and melting ghee filled the air.
"Okay, move aside," Avni said, nudging him with her shoulder. "The tadka is the most important part. If you mess this up, it's just soggy rice."
"I have it under control, Avi," he teased, though he stepped back to give her room.
He watched her work. She was precise, her movements confident. As she leaned over the small pan of sizzling spices, a strand of hair escaped her bun, falling across her face.
Divyash acted on instinct. He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck the hair back behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin, and for a second, the sizzling of the pan seemed to fade away.
Avni froze. She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide. They were standing so close that he could see the slight gold flecks in her irises. The air between them was thick, charged with the same electricity that had been humming between them since the party.
"Divyash..." she breathed.
"The spices," he murmured, his voice low. "They’re going to burn."
She blinked, snapping back to reality, and quickly poured the hot oil into the rice. The loud hiss of the tempering filled the room, but the tension didn't break. It just shifted, becoming something deeper and more undeniable.
They ended up eating on the floor in the living room, propped up by cushions, the TV off. The only sound was the rain and the clink of spoons against bowls.
"This is actually really good," Avni admitted, taking another bite. "Better than the five-star catering we had at the gala."
"It’s the secret ingredient," Divyash said.
"Which is?"
"Peace and quiet."
They sat in silence for a long time, the kind of silence that wasn't heavy, but comfortable. The light in the room was dim, the shadows stretching long across the floor.
"I went to see Vivek today," Divyash said, finally breaking the quiet. He felt like he could be honest with her here, in the empty house. "He’s in a mess, Avi. He’s trying to protect someone, and it’s going to bite him."
Avni set her bowl down, her face turning serious. "The girl from the parking lot? Kajal?"
"Yeah. He thinks he can handle it on his own, but he’s playing a dangerous game with Dad’s firm. I told him I’d help, but I’m worried."
Avni reached over, placing her hand over his. Her palm was warm, her touch solid. "You're a good brother, Divyash. But don't let his secrets become yours. If you need a way to help her that doesn't involve the law firm, tell me. I have people who can look into things quietly."
Divyash looked at their joined hands. "Thank you. I didn't want to bring this to you, but..."
"But we're a team," she finished for him. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her weight a gentle, welcome pressure. "Even if we're a team that stays home from family functions to eat khichdi on the floor."
Divyash rested his head against hers, closing his eyes. The house was empty, the rain was falling, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was speaking a different language. He felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
"Yeah," he whispered. "A pretty good team."
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