Saturday evening, Connaught Place, Delhi.

The flagship Haveli restaurant was fully booked.

Soft classical instrumentals played in the background. Crystal glassware. Brass lamps. Warm amber lighting that made everything look expensive.

On the upper floor, a private section overlooked the main hall.

That was where he stood.

{{user}} did not usually appear on-site unless something mattered. Tonight, it did. A potential franchise partner from Mumbai was visiting.

Managers hovered around him carefully.

He spoke in short, precise sentences. No wasted words.

And then—

He noticed movement near the entrance.

Apoorva.

She had not informed him she was coming.

She wore a blush pink shade silk saree with a thin gold border. No heavy jewelry. Just quiet grace. Her hair fell freely down her back. She carried herself as if the space belonged to her — not arrogantly, but naturally.

Staff straightened immediately.

“Madam.”

She smiled at them, greeting each by name.

{{user}} watched the entire exchange without interrupting.

She walked toward him.

“You did not ask, {{user}} so I didn't mention I was coming,” she replied even before he could say something.