Episode 4

“God, no…”  A half-awake Samrat grouses as he descends the stairs to his house, wanting to do nothing more than going back to his bed and sleep till the end of the world. Even his valet doesn't start his job this soon.

Though he has a nutjob to confront right now who is incessantly ringing his Italy imported doorbell.

“What do you want?” He all but whines to whoever it is on the other side of the door, not quite expecting to get an answer in return.

He gets that anyway.

“I think I'll have to say you!” The voice comes, loud and chirpy – too chirpy to be acceptable at eight in the morning. And wait a second, did the person just answered back with a ‘you’?

Frowning, as Samrat peeks in through the peephole of the door, it is just to find a girl standing there with a smile on her face, swinging on the balls of her feet, hands tied behind her, looking all around the place until she gets bored of it and decides to peep back through the hole.

Samrat jerks back, startled.

“Who let you inside? Where’s the guard?” Samrat murmurs more to himself than anyone else but opens the latch to the door nonetheless because if the guard has any love for his job, he wouldn’t let any unwelcomed person inside.

“So, who are you and why do you need me?” he asks calmly despite himself, standing in his pyjama-clad and sleep mussed hair glory, tapping restlessly on the door pane an expression of nonchalance gracing his face as he assesses the girl who is now standing there looking at him, unmoving.

True to his thinking, Mishti is indeed left still on the spot trying to digest the fact that the person she had met that day, his weeping face still flashing through her eyes as she daydreamed about him, hoped that he would be fine where ever he was – is standing right in front of her eyes, at a distance so tangible; her dreams turning into a tactile reality as she takes in his eyes that are still sleepy but awake enough to conjure up a frown, the lower part of his face adorned with a black coloured scruff that she remembers wasn't that thick all those years ago, hair going in all directions.

The sight brings a wave of emotion inside her in front of which she stifles by pasting a bright smile on her face because try as she might, she doesn’t think she’s going to get over the view in front of her anytime soon.

“I’m Mishti, nice to meet you.” She states, extending her hand for the greeting which Samrat hesitantly yet firmly shakes. “I want you because I’ve been hired by your mother, Mrs Agnihotri, as your personal chef. I look forward to work here and please you with it thereafter.”

“Alright, you may stop smiling now.” The answer comes instead, that has Mishti fish mouthing for a second, baffled, her smile indeed vanishing into thin air.

Samrat squints his eyes.

“Anyways, come in. Though I do remember ma telling me that someone named Preeti would be coming to work. Want to say something about that?” he asks and Mishti struggles to answer, not because she has forgotten that she’s on a mission here and is diguising as someone else but because she thought perhaps this time, she’d be able to introduce herself to the man properly, with her real name. No lies.

Mishti doesn't think it's possible though.

“Yes, of course. My work name is Preeti Ahuja, yes, but everyone calls me Mishti so…” she trails off, surprised to see no hint of suspicion in the man’s eyes.

Samrat just raises his brow in acknowledgement, shifting to the side to let the girl inside. He nods.

“Very well. But since this is your workplace, you’d be addressed as Preeti.”

Professional much? Well, good for her.

“Also, you’re too early for your work and aren’t in your uniform, may I ask why?” he questions next, cocking his head to the side to which Mishti chuckles nervously, her gaze flitting to her casual dress and the bags that do not contain the uniform because she was stupid enough to leave it back at home.

“You may…” she says, and by making the use of her natural talent, conjures up a reply, her smile turning confident.

“You see, I didn’t want to be late on the first day of my work, so I reached here early.” She says and looks up to see the man still standing there, as rigid as a rock, his arms now crossed across his chest, the out line of his not so huge biceps visible through the sleeves of the t-shirt.

“Go on.”

“Uniform, right, about that…” Mishti trails off, taking a step forward that forces the man to take a step back which finally leads to Mishti entering the house. She grins. “I thought you would’ve gotten bored seeing a person in a uniform around you 24/7. I mean had it been me, I definitely would’ve, so I just thought of working in casuals here. Not to mention, working like this is way more comfortable than working in those white trousers and that huge ass hat, don’t you think so too?”

The reply leaves the man dumbfounded for a few seconds, his eyes squinting in confusion as he asks himself, “I do?”

Cute.

“So now would you please tell me where I would stay and also what would like me to address you with: your name, sir, or nothing at all.”

The man makes a face at that, narrowing his eyes, trying to assess if she is just acting stupid or she is actually that stupid which, to be honest, even Mishti hasn’t been able to conclude till now. “How does the latter even work?” he asks but before she can give him any reply, he shakes his head.

“Never mind, I don’t want to know, and I think the use of honorific will be ok.”

Sir it is then, couldn’t he say that in a less complicated way?

“And your room is down the hall at the left corner. Vivek would help you with your bags if he's awake. Vivek!”

And that – leaves Mishti to explore the house and admiring its décor, the kitchen is spacious and fully equipped which makes a smile grow in her face. They too have a big kitchen back home but this is huge. The lower floor of the house contains the living room, the dining room and the kitchen while the upper floor of the house consists of bedrooms, five of them, the fifth of which is allotted to her, the only staff other than Samrat's valet, Vivek, who would be living in the house 24/7 probably because she is the chef and has to make the food whenever it is demanded of her.

She spends hours doing this, but no one provides her with the precautionary list that is mandatory for all the personal staff to know; the allergies, likes, dislikes etc.

She has been having her suspicions he has entered the house.

Is the man so nonchalant with everyone? He didn’t even raise a question on the fact of her having two very distinct names, neither did he direct her to the kitchen or ask her what made his mother select her, an answer that she had come mugged up from the real Preeti’s answer form.

There are no instructions, no aim to follow up to. Mishti is completely clueless.

Fortunately though, she doesn’t have to wait too long for finding the answers, it comes on the form of her employer descending the stairs as he talks to someone on phone, probably his mother.

“– worry, she isn’t going to be here for too long. It's not her. It's you. I told you to  not meddle in my affairs. I could've appointed who I want to, a Michelin star chef but see what you got me, a roadside stall cook, a woman at that!”

Ouch.

“I don’t look at the faces of the people who work for me, be it in the company or my house. I care about the talent. But this girl…..I have been living in the States for the last four years, I have developed a taste for international cuisine, she probably wouldn’t even know how to pronounce half the names of the dishes I would want to eat. And it would not be her fault. Just don't interfere so much with my life alright?  For now I’ll let the girl stay here for a day or……”

Wow.

Flabbergasted as she is, Mishti doesn’t hear anything anymore, not because the words confuse her, had thought that Samrat and his mother have a really good bond, or they hurt her  because she has heard much worse -- but because she knows what to do now, knows that she has someone to impress, a goal to accomplish, to change a perception and this she would definitely do.

*

On the other hand, back at her home, as Mishti had predicted, Mihir goes berserk.

“I don’t understand this girl, why did she have to go there like this. Without meeting any of us or asking more about the mission. What if something happens? What if she gets caught? She is my baby sister. I can’t let her get hurt!” He frets, his head in his hand and all his friends surrounding him.

“Nothing will happen to our Mishti, she’s very intelligent and she knows how to handle a situation,” Raghav assures, patting his friend on his shoulder while Ranveer hums in agreement. “Yeah, you’re underestimating her.”

Ruhi, though doesn’t say anything and keeps looking at the blank spot on the wall, her gaze unfocused and brows furrowed, her mind running at a high speed, thinking all possible reasons for why Mishti had been so determined on going there. She feels guilty of letting her go like this, at the same time she can’t help and worry about her wellbeing.

She really hopes that the girl is ok.

“Anyways, we still have to deal with that girl who was supposed to go to that job. Preeti, was it? I think Ranvi and I would go and deal with her, you guys talk to them. It’s high time they send us the signed documents, yeah?” Raghav suggests and Mihir nods.

Ruhi, once again, doesn’t say anything but since the brothers are gone now, it’s Mihir who takes note of it.

“Ruhi?” he calls out, but the girl isn’t able to get out of her reverie. It’s with a courageous breath that he puts his hand on her shoulder, shaking it lightly. “Ruhi?”

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong? What are you thinking about?” he asks once he has her attention, but the girl doesn’t answer at once as if still processing the question, and then shakes her head.

“No, it’s-it’s nothing.” She huffs out a nervous chuckle. Mihir doesn’t buy her reassurance but doesn’t pry any further, wanting to give her as much space as she wants.

“If you say so. But you can share anything with me, you know that right?” he asks, offering her a small smile which she returns, albeit slightly less enthusiasm, and nods.

"Though I still don't understand who let her go just like that." Mihir sighs, leaning back in the chair, his gaze landing on the girl in front of her who looks back at him guiltily.

He lets out an amused smile. "If it's you then say so. You know I'm not going to say anything to you. I never did."

Ruhi smiles, relieved.