You knocked lightly on the half-open door, peeking in with your usual sunny smile. "Brought you food, Mr. Maitra."

Arjun looked up from the file in his hands, the hawkish focus in his eyes softening the instant they landed on you. His uniform was slightly rumpled from the day’s work, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with ink stains from his pen.

"You should be home by now," he said in that low, controlled tone he used with criminals and politicians alike — but there was a warmth underneath that no one else ever got.

"And let you starve in here? Not a chance," you teased, stepping inside and placing the tiffin on his desk. Your dupatta brushed against his arm as you leaned forward, and you felt him still—completely still—as if resisting the urge to pull you close.

"Sit," he ordered softly. Not a command meant for subordinates, but for you — protective, possessive.

You obeyed, perching on the edge of his chair while he unpacked the tiffin himself, setting aside the gucchi mushroom ( morrel mushroom rice ). He didn’t touch the food right away. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes fixed on you like you were the only point of focus in the room.

"You’re tired," he said, scanning your face, the slight smudge of kajal under your eyes.

"So are you," you replied. "I can tell. You’ve been pushing yourself too much."

He smiled faintly — the kind of smile no one at the station would believe he could make. "That’s rich coming from the doctor who works double shifts."

You rolled your eyes, and that’s when he reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed along the curve of it, lingering, almost reverent.

"I can’t… breathe properly when you’re not near me, shona," he admitted quietly, his voice rough. "I go through hell all day with these bastards out there, and then you walk in — and it’s like the city makes sense again."

You laughed softly, leaning into his palm. "That’s a very dramatic thing for Kolkata’s most no-nonsense officer to say."

"I’m dramatic only for you," he said, almost under his breath.

When you tried to pull away to serve him food, his fingers tightened ever so slightly, keeping you close. "Not yet. Just… stay."

And in that moment, in the dim light of his office, you saw the man no one else did — the unyielding enforcer of law, undone entirely by his small, cheerful wife.