Dev's eyes flicked briefly to the dishes and then right back to Jhanvi.

 "I see," he said, his tone low and composed. "So, what's your café's specialty, Ms...?"

"Bhist," Jhanvi replied quickly, fiddling nervously with her fingers. 

"Jhanvi Bhist."

He leaned back, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Go on then, Ms. Bhist."

Jhanvi swallowed hard. "Umm, sir, I'm really sorry. Actually, while coming here there was a small accident and—"

Dev's voice cut through hers smoothly, laced with mockery.

"How very unprofessional, Ms. Bhist."

His words made her stiffen. Reeva immediately stepped forward, her tone polite yet firm. 

"We know, sir. We truly apologize for the inconvenience. It won't happen again."

he didn't respond immediately — his gaze lingered on Jhanvi a moment longer before turning to the desserts, a faint smirk still curling his lips.

Dev finally picked up a fork, his movements calm and deliberate. The room had gone quiet —

 every chef, every assistant, even Reeva — watching him as if the fate of Café Whiskers rested on that single bite.

He sliced into the dessert Jhanvi had prepared — a delicate strawberry mousse with almond crumble — and took a slow, measured bite.

Seconds stretched. Jhanvi could feel her palms sweating. Her throat had gone dry.

Then, Dev finally looked up. His expression was unreadable. "Sweet," he said. 

"Delicate texture. Balanced flavors."

Reeva exhaled in relief. Jhanvi's shoulders slumped, but before she could smile—

Dev continued, his tone suddenly colder. "But lacks precision."

Her heart skipped. "Precision?"

He set the fork down, his gaze locking onto hers.

 "Presentation sloppy. The base crumbled before it reached the plate. You rushed it."

Jhanvi stiffened — her jaw tightening.

"I didn't rush it. It—" she caught herself, glancing at Reeva, who subtly shook her head in warning.

Dev leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. 

"Excuses. A professional takes responsibility, not refuge in words."

Reeva stepped in quickly.

 "Sir, it won't happen again. We'll make sure everything is perfect for the final delivery."

Dev's eyes, however, didn't leave Jhanvi's face. "It better be."

He pushed the plate slightly toward her and added,

 "Because LeMont Grand doesn't settle for 'almost perfect'."

Jhanvi clenched her fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms to stop herself from answering back.

 Something about his voice — the authority, the effortless arrogance — it made her blood boil.

"Meeting's over," Dev finally said, standing up. 

"The deal will depend on your next tasting round."

He nodded once at the chef and turned to leave. His steps were unhurried, confident — and just before walking out, he stopped at the door.

Without looking back, he said softly,

"Next time, Ms. Bhist — try not to collide with me before an important meeting."

Jhanvi froze, her eyes widening as her breath caught in her throat.

Reeva's jaw dropped.

She exhaled sharply, muttering, "Unbelievable. The man doesnt have any basic manners."

Reeva chuckled nervously. "At least he didn't cancel the deal."

Jhanvi rolled her eyes, gathering the remaining items. 

"Yeah, well... if he shows up again, I'm walking out before I throw a cupcake at his smug face."

Reeva smirked, nudging her. 

"Don't you dare. That smug face just happens to own one of the biggest hotels in the country."

Jhanvi sighed, shaking her head. "Rich people and their ego. Aish."

As they both walked toward the exit, unaware that someone's gaze still hadn't left Jhanvi, 

Dev's expression remained unreadable.

Beside him, his assistant hesitated before asking softly, "Sir... may I ask something?"

Dev didn't look away from the glass window that reflected the café behind them. "Hmm?"

"Why did you pick them?" the assistant continued cautiously.

 "I mean... there are better cafés in the city. More established ones."

Dev paused for a second, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Because I want her around me," he said quietly — his tone calm, almost casual, yet carrying a weight the assistant couldn't quite understand.

Before the man could ask more, Dev added, "She just doesn't know it yet."

And with that, he walked ahead — his steps steady, his eyes still holding the echo of the woman who'd just defied him.

Author's POV:

Rain poured relentlessly, blurring the city lights into silver streaks.

Jhanvi and Reeva hurried toward their café, umbrellas barely shielding them from the downpour.

As Jhanvi reached the entrance, her eyes caught a faint silhouette near the café's gate — someone crouched down, shivering under the rain.

Frowning, she walked closer and tilted her umbrella over the stranger's head.

"Excuse me... you'll catch a cold like this," she said softly.

The man slowly looked up — wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes distant yet familiar.

"Mumma..." he whispered.

Janvi froze. Did he just... call me Mumma?

Her heart skipped a beat as recognition flashed in her eyes. "Aryan?"

He looked lost, like a child searching for something only his soul remembered.

"Aryan, what are you doing here?" Her voice trembled, laced with concern.

Without waiting for an answer, she helped him up and guided him inside the café.

"Reeva, bring him some hot chocolate," Janvi said quickly, her tone more protective than she realized.

She made him sit on a chair, grabbed a towel, and began gently drying his hair.

"Did your careless brother leave you alone again?" she muttered, her fingers moving carefully through his damp strands.

Aryan didn't respond. He just stared at her — unblinking, fragile, lost.

"Mumma... Anjali..." he murmured, the name slipping from his lips like a ghost of the past.Jhanvi froze mid-motion. 

Her heart stilled.

"Who... who is she?" she asked quietly, kneeling in front of him.

Before he could answer, the café door flew open.

Aahan and a women rushed in, drenched and breathless.

"There you are!" Aahan exclaimed, relief flooding his voice.

Jhanvi's expression changed in an instant. "You knew his condition, yet you left him alone in this weather? What kind of brother are you!"

Aahan raised his hands in defense. "I didn't! He left the hotel alone, and we've been searching for him since then."

"Then how did you even know he was here?" Jhanvi shot back, worry still etched on her face.

Aahan exchanged a glance with the women before sighing softly.

 "Because... his heart always runs back to its comfort place."

Jhanvi frowned in confusion but shook her head. 

"Whatever it is, please take care of him. Do you know he was sitting outside in this storm? What if something had happened?"

After a few minutes, the storm outside worsened — thunder roaring, wind howling.

Realizing it was impossible to go out, Jhanvi allowed them to stay in the café until the weather calmed.

As she returned to the counter, Reeva appeared, holding three pastries and mugs of hot chocolate.

"Take these to them," she said, smiling softly.

Jhanvi nodded, carrying the tray toward their table. 

She placed the mugs down and noticed Aryan sat at the table with his crayons, lost in his own little world.

Curious, she leaned a little closer — and her breath hitched.

It was her portrait. Every line, every curve... captured with haunting accuracy.

"Wow... beautifull," Jhanvi whispered, her voice almost breaking.

Her gaze shifted to the woman beside Aahan — the same woman she had seen that day.

"Umm... by the way, you are?" Janvi asked politely.

Aahan smiled faintly. "She's my wife, Arushi Taneja."

Arushi looked at Jhanvi with eyes that glistened with unspoken pain — her smile tender yet trembling.

She really doesn't remember... Arushi thought, her heart fracturing silently.

Arushi watched them quietly from her seat. 

Her heart clenched as she saw the smile on Aryans face — pure, innocent, and painfully unaware.

He was laughing now, showing his drawing to Jhanvi

Aryan's lips curved. "You look just like Mumma?"

The words fell from his lips like a knife through silence.

Reeva, standing near the counter, froze for a second. Jhanvi, too, blinked, unsure how to react — something struck deep within her, somewhere she didn't understand.

And Arushi... she turned her face away, her throat tightening.

She stepped aside, near the window, trying to hide the storm inside her chest.

Aahan followed, concern written on his face. "Arushi..."

She shook her head, blinking back tears.

Her voice trembled as she spoke again, almost in a whisper.

"She is My Anjali, Aahan . And he... He's not the Aryan we knew anymore... he's just a child lost in her memories. how cruel fate is for them"

Aahan sighed softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Yes... it's so cruel. Fate takes what we love and leaves only memories behind."

Arushi nodded slowly, eyes filled with tears that refused to fall.

"I know," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"It's just... it hurts, seeing them like this. She doesn't know who she is, and he doesn't know how to live without her."

Through the glass, Aryan's laughter echoed faintly — a sound that hadn't been heard in years.

 Jhanvi smiled unknowingly, her heart warming at his joy.

Arushi looked at them both — her best friend who'd forgotten her past, and her best friend's husband who lived trapped inside it.

A bittersweet smile touched her lips.

"At least," she whispered,

"in some twisted way, fate brought them together again... even if neither remembers why."

The rain outside grew heavier, blurring the world beyond the café window.

And inside, among the scent of cocoa and coffee, two broken souls sat — one remembering too much, one remembering nothing.