Chapter 18: The Productivity Crisis
[System Notification: New Environment — 'The Shared Home Office' | Distraction Level: 99%]
Two weeks after the "Lonavala Lockdown," the real world hit. We were back in Mumbai, but the geography had shifted. Instead of staying behind our separate walls, I was currently sat at Ishaan's massive oak desk, surrounded by blueprint rolls and a very expensive espresso machine.
Since I was now the Lead Architect for 'The Blue Shutter Patisserie,' and Ishaan was on a mandatory post-residency break, we had decided to "work together" to stay productive.
It was a disaster.
"Ishaan," I groaned, not looking up from my laptop. "Stop. Doing. That."
"Doing what?" he asked, his voice a picture of innocence.
I looked over. He was sitting on the rug three feet away, supposedly reading a medical journal on pediatric neurology. But he wasn't reading. He was currently using a laser pointer to play with my cat, Biscuit, right across my blueprints.
"The red dot is interfering with the structural integrity of Ananya's kitchen island," I snapped, though I was fighting a smile.
"I'm just testing your focus, Meeru," he grinned. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and joggers, looking so effortlessly domestic that it was physically painful to look at him. "A good architect should be able to work through any distraction. Even a highly athletic cat."
The "Professional" Boundary
I tried to turn back to my CAD software. Focus, Meera. The oven clearance needs to be 48 inches.
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind my chair. The scent of sandalwood and clean laundry enveloped me before I even felt his hands on my shoulders.
"Your muscles are knots," Ishaan murmured, his thumbs digging into the tension at the base of my neck with medical precision. "How long have you been staring at this screen?"
"Three hours," I exhaled, my head dropping forward involuntarily. "Ananya wants a custom-built display case for the sourdough, and I can't get the lighting angles right."
"Take a break," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "Doctor's orders."
"Ishaan, we have a deadline. The Aunties are already asking when the grand opening is."
"The Aunties are currently busy arguing over whether the wedding return-gifts should be silver coins or dry fruits," he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on my arms. He spun my chair around so I was forced to look at him. "Forget the lighting for five minutes. Look at me instead."
The Distraction Peak
I looked at him. His hair was messy, his eyes were soft, and he was looking at me like I was the only blueprint he ever wanted to study.
"You're very bad for my career," I whispered, my heart doing that familiar W&W flutter.
"And you're very bad for my blood pressure," he countered, leaning down until our foreheads touched. "Every time you chew your pencil while you're thinking, I forget how to breathe."
He reached out, slowly taking the pencil from my hand and placing it on the desk. He leaned in closer, the space between us vanishing—
BZZZZT.
My phone on the desk vibrated with a message notification. Then Ishaan's phone. Then the landline in the hallway.
"Don't tell me," Ishaan groaned against my lips.
I reached for my phone. It was a photo in the 'Gulmohar Lane Official' WhatsApp group.
It was a picture of a massive floral bouquet sitting on the doorstep of the Khannas' house. The card was visible, and in large, elegant script, it read:
"To the most talented baker in Mumbai. Can't wait to see the 'Blue Shutters' open. — J."
"Julian," I whispered. "He's not gone. He's trying to buy his way back in."
Ishaan's entire demeanor shifted. The playful "boy next door" vanished, replaced by a cold, protective fire. He grabbed his phone and stood up.
"He sent flowers to her house? While her mother is still feeling guilty?" Ishaan's voice was like ice. "He's playing on Mrs. Khanna's weakness."
[System Notification: Peace Interrupted | New Objective: Protect the Patisserie]
"Wait, Ishaan!" I caught his hand. "Look at the timestamp. The flowers arrived ten minutes ago. Ananya hasn't seen them yet—she's at the site with the contractors."
"Then we get there first," Ishaan said, grabbing his keys. "Work-from-home is over, Meera. We're going on a floral disposal mission."
[Author's Corner]
THE DISRUPTION! 😱 Just when they were about to have a moment! Julian is back with the "Psychological Warfare" trope. Will the moms fall for his 'generosity'?
Status Update:
Meera: 20% Productive, 80%
Flustered.
Ishaan: Jealousy Level: 10/10.
Julian: Still the ultimate pest.