Chapter Five.
Ira cleared her throat softly.
“G-good morning, Mr—”
“Coffee. No sugar. No milk. Not too hot, not warm either..” Devraj cut in, his deep voice leaving no space for pleasantries.
Ira blinked, stunned. “Not too hot and not too warm? How does that even work?” she wondered, frowning. Still, she gave a hesitant nod, placing her bag carefully on the couch before slipping out.
Devraj’s eyes followed her every step until the door shut. Only then did his body stiffen.
He inhaled slowly, his gaze darkening a bit as if the air she carried with her unsettled him.
???
Downstairs, Ira headed toward the kitchen. The moment she entered, her lips parted in awe.
The kitchen was massive, gleaming under soft lights, and three maids were already bustling around, preparing trays of food.
One of them glanced up, her expression faltering when she noticed Ira.
“H-hi… I need to make coffee for Mr. Devraj Rathore..” Ira said, almost apologetically.
The maids exchanged looks, before one silently gestured toward the coffee supplies and machine. Ira frowned but thanked her, brushing off the odd atmosphere.
She set about preparing the coffee, focused and careful.
“Ira?” a familiar voice called.
She turned, startled, only to find Vivaan strolling in. His wavy hair fell carelessly over one eye, his boyish smile making him look effortlessly charming.
“Hi..” Ira replied with a tight smile, quickly turning back to her task.
Vivaan leaned against the kitchen island, watching her hands as she poured coffee into the mug. “You’re making coffee for my bhai?”
She gave a curt nod, adjusting the tray with the mug on it.
“Need help?” he asked lightly.
Ira looked at him now, exasperation flashing in her eyes.
Does he always bother people like this?
“No, thank you… sir..” she said firmly, her tone polite but clipped.
Vivaan’s smile faltered into a frown. “Call me Vivaan.”
Behind them, whispers floated in the air. Ira glanced sideways and saw the maids eyeing them curiously. Her stomach tightened.
“Excuse me, sir.” she said quickly, lifting the tray before he could say more. Without waiting for his response, she left the kitchen in a rush.
Vivaan watched her retreating figure, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he strolled out casually, amusement dancing in his eyes.
???
Ira returned to Devraj’s room, the tray of coffee steady in her hands despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
She knocked softly, almost hesitantly, and pushed the door open.
The moment she stepped in, her stomach tightened.
Devraj’s eyes were already on her unblinking and so fixed.
It made her shiver, an instinctive reaction she immediately tried to hide.
"He has a creepy stare.." she thought.
She walked carefully toward him, the tray held firmly in both hands.
She placed the coffee on the small table beside his wheelchair.
He took it without a word, lifted it to his lips, and sipped.
A faint frown appeared, fleeting but noticeable, yet he said nothing.
Relief crept in, subtle but real.
"He didn’t say anything. Maybe it’s okay" She gave a quiet sigh.
"But seriously… who drinks coffee with no sugar or milk? It’s bitter, really bitter. Figures. Bitter man, bitter coffee."
“S…sir..” she said, clearing her throat and trying to steady her voice.
“I… I will run your bath for you, then get you your breakfast… and–” Her words stumbled, cut short before she could finish.
“First drawer. Bring the file there.” Devraj Said.
He set the coffee down beside his wheelchair.
Ira froze mid-sentence, blinking at him. The drawer he referred to was close to his bed. She swallowed hard, glanced at it, and then back at him.
Will he ever let me finish a sentence? she thought, exasperated.
She nodded stiffly and moved toward the drawer, sliding it open and carefully pulling out the file.
“H…here, sir.” she said, extending it to him.
“Go through it.” His words were crisp. He dropped a pen beside his coffee. “No rules must be broken. Sign it.”
Ira blinked, her mind spinning.
Sign a file? Is this a contract or something?? This man is…unbelievable. She opened it slowly, her eyes scanning the pages.
Rule One.
“This contract will last three months. Party A (Ira) must abide by these rules during this period.”
The first rule made her raise an eyebrow:
I. Do not touch Party B (Devraj) for any reason. Any violation will result in immediate termination of work.
She gave a slight, incredulous frown.
"Not that I care, but who in their right mind would want to touch a man like him?" she thought, but shrugged...
The next rule made her pause:
II. Do not develop feelings for Party B. Any such attachment will result in immediate termination.
Her eyes flicked up at him, incredulous.
Is he serious? she wondered.
She shook her head lightly.
She forced herself back to the file, reading the remaining clauses carefully.
Devraj's hands gripped the armrest of his wheelchair tighter, his amber eyes darkening ever so slightly as he watched her.
Ira sigh.. It’s just a job, why all this? I'm not going to do all this. He’s… difficult, yes, but it’s just work. Did other caregiver do these and that's why he is doing this fike thing?
Even as she turned the page, reading the rules and conditions, Everything was just based on her keeping her distance.
And honestly, she is so fine with that.. and the pay was huge, working for just three months.
She picked up the pen Devraj had placed on the table.
Her fingers hovered over the paper for a brief moment, taking in the seriousness of it.
Just a signature… nothing more, she reminded herself, keeping her mind on the life she already had outside this mansion.
She started reading the final sections of the contract, ensuring she understood the rules, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Her heart beat a little faster, from the pressure of the situation. This was a man who didn’t tolerate mistakes, and she didn’t want to be the reason for any reprimand.
Carefully, she signed the bottom of the page, sliding the pen back toward him.
“Done, sir.” she said softly.
Devraj’s gaze never left her, the faintest tightening of his grip on the wheelchair’s armrest betraying something he didn’t voice.
To Ira, it seemed simply like his usual quiet intensity, nothing more.
She didn’t notice the subtle shift in his amber eyes, the way his attention lingered longer than necessary, or how his posture straightened slightly as if measuring her every movement.
Ira quickly stepped back. “I’ll prepare your bath now, sir..” she said, keeping her voice polite and neutral.
“Go..” he said shortly. His eyes tracked her as she left the room to the bathroom.
Ira mind was already on the next task, on following rules, on keeping the morning smooth.
He’s… difficult, but that’s fine. I can handle this" she thought, completely unaware of the storm of attention trailing her every move.
Behind her, Devraj remained in his wheelchair, the pen still resting on the table with the file.
His amber eyes lingered on the spot where she had just stood, his grip relaxing just slightly.
Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, then relax, then tense again as he remembered the exact shape of her posture, the rhythm of her breathing, the subtle scent she carried.
"What a cheap perfume?" He thought...
And yet, he found himself inhaling more of it..
???
Ira stepped into the bathroom and her eyes widened instantly.
“Gosh…” she whispered under her breath. Her gaze swept over the room, gleaming mirrors, polished marble counters, the massive glass shower, and a bathtub that looked like something straight out of a luxury magazine.
Everything screamed wealth and class, the kind she had only ever glimpsed from a distance.
Rich people have it so easy… she thought, her lips curving faintly.
For a moment, she allowed herself to admire the perfection of it all, then quickly composed herself.
Her eyes fell on a carefully designed stool near the shower. She lingered on it, her expression softening in sympathy.
I guess that’s where he sits when he bathes, she thought, her chest tightening just slightly.
She lowered her voice, almost afraid of her own curiosity slipping through. “Sad… I wonder why he’s bound to that chair. Was it really an accident?”
The thought slipped out in a whisper, followed by a quiet sigh. “I’d better not bother. It’s none of my business… but…” She trailed off, shaking her head, though she was still curious.
Pulling herself back to focus, she walked to the shower and tested the water, carefully adjusting the handle until it reached the right balance between hot and cold. She let her hand rest under the stream for a moment, ensuring it was just perfect.
After that, she placed the soap neatly within his reach, arranged his towel close at hand, and double-checked everything with quiet precision.
When she was satisfied, she left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.
Devraj was working on his laptop now, broad shoulders stiff, fingers moving across the keyboard.
The glow of the computer screen lit his face, but it was the cold hardness in his expression that made Ira’s throat tighten.
“S…sir..” she began gently, “I’ve arranged the bathroom. Do you… need help getting there?”
Slowly, Devraj’s eyes lifted from the screen to her. The weight of his gaze made her stomach knot.
His face was unreadable, set in stone. Ira’s palms dampened against her Anarkali, her breath catching slightly.
“Go get me my breakfast.”
The words were low, irritated, but edged with a restraint.
It wasn’t loud. But it was enough to make Ira’s chest tighten with nerves.
She gave a quick nod, and turned to leave the room without another word.
The door closed softly behind her.
For a long moment, Devraj’s eyes lingered on the space she had just occupied.
His jaw flexed, his fingers still on the keyboard, but unmoving now.
???
Ira was making her way toward the kitchen, when a soft voice called her name.
“Ira.”
She halted and turned to see Mrs. Rathore approaching. A small, gentle smile tugged at Ira’s lips.
“Is there any problem, dear?” Mrs. Rathore asked.
“Oh, no, no.” Ira replied quickly, straightening her posture. “I’m here for Sir’s breakfast. He asked me to bring it.”
Mrs. Rathore’s face lit up with a soft smile. “Alright then, come along.” She began walking toward the kitchen, and Ira followed.
As they entered the kitchen, Mrs. Rathore addressed the maids briskly, instructing them to prepare the meal for Devraj.
The women moved, bustling between counters and trays, the clatter of utensils filling the space.
“You don’t have to stress yourself too much, dear..” Mrs. Rathore said kindly, glancing at Ira. “The food will be ready in a few minutes, and then you can take it upstairs to Devraj, okay?”
Ira gave a tight nod, grateful for the reassurance. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Rathore’s gaze softened. “By the way… have you eaten yet, Ira?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have.” Ira replied politely.
Just then, a familiar voice said.
“Is it okay to join you guys discussion?”
Vivaan walker into the kitchen again and his eyes landed on Ira. A boyish grin spread across his face.
Mrs. Rathore rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly, but then looked at Ira with a small smile. “Dear, you can take the food once it’s ready, okay?”
Ira nodded politely, forcing a small smile as Vivaan winked at her.
“Let’s go!” Mrs. Rathore said to Vivaan, giving him a gentle nudge.
Vivaan turned once, flashing Ira another playful grin before walking away.
Ira rolled her eyes, exhaling quietly.
Some people never grow up, she thought, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she waited for the food to be ready.
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