Nandini's POV
Okay.
So maybe I ate the last piece of chocolate cake.
But in my defense, it had been sitting in the fridge for two whole days, and everyone knows the universal law of cake: First come, first munch.
Apparently, Mr. Roy had claims over it.
So when he opened the fridge last night, stared into the empty plate, and then looked at me like I'd committed treason—I knew the storm had arrived.
"You ate it?"
"It was lonely. I set it free."
"No words."
"Great. Saves me from your lectures."
And just like that... Cold War: Initiated.
Siddharth's POV
The cake wasn't the point.
It was my cake. I saved it after a long board meeting. I'd imagined eating it slowly, in peace, while reading a report.
But no.
My wife—tiny, sweet, and infuriating—devoured it like a villain.
Now we're playing the silent treatment game. Childish? Yes. But I'm in too deep now.
This morning she walked right past me with extra heel clicks.
I stirred my coffee louder than necessary.
We've become two sitcom characters. Eye contact? None.
Snarky comments? Telepathic.
Nandini's POV
I made rasam for lunch. The spicy kind.
Put the bowl on the table. No words. No looking at him.
He came, sat, took one sip.
"Hmm. Salty," he muttered under his breath.
SALTYYYYY?
Sir, your attitude is salty, not my rasam.
So I smiled sweetly and said, "Maybe next time you should cook it, Mr. Michelin Star."
Dead silence.
I heard his spoon clink the bowl aggressively. 😤
Good.
Siddharth's POV
She just compared me to a chef and not in a compliment way.
So after lunch, I did what every grown man does in a domestic argument:
I vacuumed the living room.
LOUDLY.
Pettily.
I swear I heard her mutter, "Overgrown toddler" under her breath.6
Nightfall.
We lay in bed, backs facing each other, both pretending to be completely unbothered.
Then came the whisper:
"...It wasn't even that good of a cake."
I turned slowly.
"You take that back."
Her shoulders shook with silent giggles.
"You started this war," I murmured, inching closer.
"And I won," she grinned in the dark.
"No, you didn't."
She turned to face me, eyes glinting.
Then she kissed my nose.
"Truce?"
I sighed, dramatically. "Fine. But next time, I hide the cake."
She beamed.
And just like that, peace was restored.
(For now.)
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