AKSHAT SINGHANIA - A literature professor in Singania Institute of Arts and Commerce. He is soft and caring person
with a tough exterior, who doesn't believe in love or marriage because of his parent's broken relationship and his ex wife's betrayal...
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We understand that many of you are frustrated and upset about the slow updates. However, we want to remind you that we’ve already communicated that updates will be slow for now. We are currently working on three different books, and we have just three chapters left to complete one of them. Once this book is finished, we will be able to provide more frequent updates.Unfortunately, some readers have started criticizing us without even reading this announcement. It’s disappointing to see such reactions when we’ve already explained the situation. Please remember, we’re not robots; we can’t write all day long. We appreciate your support and are happy that you enjoy our work. We kindly ask for your understanding during this time.Thank you for your patience.
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Krishiv stood outside the quaint ice cream parlour, the warm sun beating down on him as he eyed the delicious array of flavors displayed behind the counter. His mouth watered in anticipation as he waited for his turn. The parlour was a popular spot, and Krishiv had been eagerly waiting for his chance to snag the last of his favorite flavor.
As he approached the counter, the salesman, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, looked up and said, "I'm sorry, but the last one of that flavor is already spoken for."
Krishiv’s face fell in disappointment. Just then, a little girl beside him, standing on a stool to reach the counter, piped up with a cheerful voice, "I have odled fisht!"
Krishiv glanced at her. She had two pigtails and a water bottle wrapped around her neck, and she was eyeing the ice cream with a look of determination. "Accha? Kab kiya? Mai pehle aaya tha. Bhaiya, give this to me," he said, pointing at the last ice cream.
The girl, placing her hands on her hips and glaring defiantly at Krishiv, said firmly, "I first."
"Jhuthi!" Krishiv retorted, shaking his head. "Bhaiya, isko wo chocolate flavor wala de do."
"You jhutha," the girl countered, her small face scrunched up in a frown. "Me not jhuthi. Mumma told me jhuth bolna ish no good. And bhaiya, I eat that ice cleam. I gave you money fisht," she said, holding out a crumpled note and quickly placing it on the counter.
The salesman, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused smile, stepped in. "Sir, usko le lene dijiye. Aap bhi kyun ek bacchi se jhagad rahe hain."
Krishiv, clearly frustrated, muttered under his breath, "Ye bacchi dikhti hai… dedh phutiya nakchadi Dadi amaa!" His annoyance was palpable.
The girl, now visibly upset, tried to pronounce her counter-argument. "You are nak… nak… chada!" She finally managed to say, grabbing the ice cream from the vendor’s hand with a swift motion. Without another word, she darted out of the parlour, leaving Krishiv fuming.
Amrit descended the grand staircase of Singhania Mansion, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor. The mansion’s opulence was evident in every detail – from the elaborate chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings to the intricate patterns of the rugs underfoot. Her mind was preoccupied with the task at hand, but she was suddenly jolted from her thoughts when she collided with someone ascending the stairs.
