Date: May 14th, 2012 (Wednesday).
Location: Deva Farmhouse, Shamshabad.
Time: 10:30 AM.
Siddanth Deva was sitting in the living room, the TV volume turned low. He wasn't watching sports; he was watching the driveway.
His right leg was resting on the floor, devoid of the heavy boot. The ankle felt strong. The doctor's test results were due in a few days, and his physio had strictly ordered him to keep using the crutches to keep the weight off ("Don't be a hero, Sid"), but Deva had discarded them in the corner of the room. He felt fine. In fact, thanks to the Metabolic Forge, he felt stronger than ever.
The rumble of an engine broke the silence. He didn't need to look out the window to know what it was. The purple Scooty Pep+.
He stood up, testing his weight. Perfect balance. He walked to the main door, his stride almost normal, suppressing the limp just in case his parents were watching.
He opened the heavy teak door just as Krithika climbed the porch steps.
She was wearing a simple blue kurti today, her hair tied back in a neat ponytail to look "professional." She clutched a thick file folder to her chest, her face set in a mask of serious business intent.
"Good morning, Sir," she said loudly, her voice projecting into the hallway for the benefit of any eavesdropping parents. "I am here to submit the drafts."
Deva leaned against the doorframe, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You're late. By two minutes."
"Traffic," she whispered, stepping inside as he moved aside. "And I had to stop to buy mints. In case your coffee breath is bad."
Before Deva could retort, Sesikala emerged from the kitchen. She wasn't just walking; she was rushing, wiping her hands on her saree, her face lighting up with a beam that could outshine the sun.
"Krithika!" Sesikala exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine delight.
She bypassed Deva completely—he might as well have been a coat rack—and pulled Krithika into a warm, enveloping hug.
"You came back!" Sesikala said, holding her at arm's length to inspect her. "Look at you! You look tired. Are you eating? Did you have breakfast?"
Krithika laughed, melting into the affection. "Namaste, Aunty. I am fine, really. I ate Idli."
"Idli is air!" Sesikala dismissed. "You need substance. Come, come inside. Sit down."
"Amma," Deva interrupted dryly. "We have work. The articles..."
"Work can wait," Sesikala shushed him. "She has come all the way from the city in this heat. First, we eat. Then you work."
She dragged Krithika to the sofa. "Sit. I made Ariselu. And special ginger tea. You must try."
"I would love to, Aunty," Krithika beamed, shooting a triumphant look at Deva.
Deva sighed and sat down opposite them. For the next twenty minutes, he watched his mother pamper his "employee."
Sesikala served tea, forced three Ariselus onto Krithika's plate, and asked about her family. Krithika charmed her effortlessly, praising the food and the house decor.
"Okay, Amma," Deva finally intervened, standing up. "We really have deadlines. Arjun is waiting for the drafts."
"Fine, fine," Sesikala relented. "Go to the office. But lunch is at 1:00. Don't be late."
"Yes, Ma," Deva said. He looked at Krithika. "Follow me... Ms. Rao."
---
Deva led the way to his ground-floor office. He walked normally, leaving the crutches forgotten in the living room corner. Krithika noticed but didn't say anything until they were inside.
Deva closed the door. He turned the lock. Click.
The moment the lock turned, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It went from "Professional Workspace" to "Private Sanctuary" in a heartbeat.
Krithika turned around, dropping the file on the desk. "Okay, so I wrote three art—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Deva stepped forward, closed the distance between them in one stride, and kissed her on the cheek.
It was quick, soft, and completely unexpected.
Krithika froze. Her hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. "What... what was that?"
"Payback," Deva smiled, leaning back against the desk, crossing his arms.
"Payback?"
"For the time you kissed me and drove away on your Scooty before I could react," Deva grinned. "I told you, I keep score."
Krithika blushed, her professional demeanor cracking. "You... you ambush people!"
"You invaded my house," Deva shrugged. "I'm just defending my territory. Now, show me these 'articles'. Did you actually write about technology, or is this just blank paper?"
Flustered, Krithika grabbed the folder and shoved it at him. "Read it. And weep. It is masterpiece journalism."
Deva opened the folder. He picked up the first sheet.
Headline:The Ego Has Landed: Why the Vice-Captain Needs a Vice-Personality.
Subtitle:An investigative report into why Siddanth Deva thinks he is God's gift to mankind.
Deva raised an eyebrow. He flipped the page.
Headline:5 Reasons Why Spiders are Better Company than Cricketers.
Point 1:Spiders don't wear fake watches.
He flipped to the last one.
Headline:The Chipmunk Chronicles: A Medical Mystery.
Deva looked up. He closed the folder slowly. He placed it on the desk.
"Very professional," Deva said, his voice low. "Extremely well-researched."
"I cite my sources," Krithika said defiantly, though she took a half-step back as Deva pushed off the desk.
"Arrogant and prideful, is it?" he murmured, taking a step towards her.
Krithika took a step back. "It's... constructive criticism."
Deva took another step. "Fake watches?"
She took another step back. "I call it like I see it."
"Chipmunk?"
She hit the door. There was nowhere left to go.
Deva moved in. He placed one hand on the doorframe above her head, boxing her in. He looked down at her. The intensity in his eyes flickered, softened by affection.
Krithika looked up at him. Her breath hitched. She tried to maintain her defiant glare, but it crumbled. She closed her eyes, waiting.
Deva leaned down. He didn't kiss her cheek this time.
He tilted his head and kissed her properly. Softly at first, then deeper, a release of months of tension, text messages, and stolen glances.
He pulled back just an inch. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.
"And that," Deva whispered into her ear, his voice husky, "is for the time you kissed me after our drive to Anantagiri Hills. I owed you that one too."
Krithika let out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding on tight. "You have a very long memory."
He kissed her forehead. "I remember everything."
"You're an idiot," she mumbled into his chest.
"I missed you," he said.
"It's been two days," she laughed, though she squeezed him tighter.
"Two days too long."
For the next two hours, no work was done. The articles lay on the desk. They sat on the small leather sofa, limbs tangled, talking about everything. They talked about her sister, his farm, movies, and how much she hated math. It was a bubble of normalcy in his chaotic life.
---
Time: 1:00 PM.
A knock on the door made them jump apart like teenagers caught skipping class.
"Siddanth?" It was Vikram. "Lunch is ready. Is your... employee staying?"
Deva smoothed his shirt. Krithika fixed her hair in the reflection of the window.
"Yes, Dad!" Deva called out. "We are... wrapping up the strategy meeting."
He opened the door.
Lunch was served in the dining room. A large teak table set with silverware.
Krithika sat next to Sesikala. Deva sat opposite them. Vikram sat at the head.
It felt... domestic.
"So, Krithika," Vikram asked, serving himself rice. "How are the articles coming along? Is Siddanth a demanding boss?"
Deva froze, mid-chew. He looked at Krithika.
Krithika didn't blink. She looked at Vikram with a professional, slightly weary expression.
"He is very particular, Uncle," she sighed. "I submitted the drafts, but Deva Sir told me to make a few adjustments. He wants the tone to be perfect. So I was working on those changes all morning."
"Ah," Vikram nodded approvingly. "Perfectionist. Just like his grandfather. Good, good. Don't let him bully you, though."
"I try my best, Sir," she said demurely.
Deva choked on his water. "Adjustments," he muttered. "Right."
"What kind of adjustments?" Sesikala asked innocently, piling chicken onto Krithika's plate. "Is the spelling wrong?"
"No, Aunty," Krithika smiled sweetly at Deva. "He just felt the 'Introduction' needed more... passion. He thought it was a bit dry."
Deva kicked her under the table with his good leg. She kicked him back, harder.
They ate. The conversation drifted to the farm, the weather, and Krithika's college life.
By the time dessert (Gulab Jamun) arrived, she was practically part of the furniture.
"You must come again," Sesikala said. "We don't have any neighbours here, so it gets lonely to talk to the same people all the time."
Deva froze. "Amma!"
"What?" Sesikala asked innocently. "She is a good girl."
Krithika turned pink. "I will come if there is anything related to work, Aunty."
---
Time: 3:00 PM.
Lunch was over. The "adjustments" were allegedly made. It was time to leave.
They walked to the porch. The sun was high and bright.
"Thank you, Madam. Thank you, Sir," Krithika bowed to his parents. "The food was wonderful."
"Work hard," Vikram said. "And make sure Siddanth pays you on time. He is a miser."
"I will," she laughed.
She walked to her Scooty. Deva walked after her.
"You survived," Deva said quietly.
"I thrived," she corrected, putting on her helmet. "Your parents love me. I am the favorite child now."
"Don't push it," Deva smiled.
She started the engine. She looked at him through the visor.
"Thank you," she said, her voice serious for a moment. "For the job. For the lunch. For... the adjustments."
"Best adjustments of my life," Deva said.
She revved the engine.
"Thank you for letting me join your company, Deva Sir," she said loudly, for the benefit of his parents standing on the porch. "I will work very hard and dedicate all my energy to improve the company."
Deva rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.
"We are very glad you joined our company, Ms. Rao," Deva droned, playing along. "And make those changes in the article I told you about. The 'Introduction' is crucial."
"Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir."
She winked.
She turned the bike and sped off, gravel crunching under her tires.
Deva watched her go until she turned onto the main road. He felt a strange lightness in his chest.
He turned to his parents.
"She is smart," Vikram noted. "Very smart."
"And she is easy going," Sesikala added.
Deva shook his head, smiling. They had no idea.
"She's a headache," Deva said, walking back inside. "A total headache."