Bound by mistake

CHAPTER 26（MAHI）

My eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, I stared at the wooden ceiling above me.

Confused.

Then everything came back.

The lake.

The snowfall.

The skating.

The dinner.

The fireplace.

A smile appeared on my face before I could stop it.

I sat up slowly and looked around the cabin.

The warmth from the fireplace had long faded, leaving only a faint glow from the morning sunlight filtering through the glass walls.

My eyes landed on Aryan.

He was still asleep on the couch opposite mine.

For once, he looked completely relaxed.

No phone.

No work.

No plans.

Just sleep.

I watched him for a moment.

Then another.

A small laugh escaped me.

I still couldn't believe he had actually listened to everything I said.

Not only listened.

Remembered.

The snowfall.

The nature.

The skating.

Everything.

My smile softened.

He had done so much.

I stretched my arms above my head and cracked my neck.

Then stood up.

"Now it's my turn."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

A mischievous idea immediately formed in my head.

I glanced toward the small kitchen area of the cabin.

Then back at Aryan.

Still asleep.

Good.

Very good.

A dangerous smile spread across my face.

For the first time since meeting Aryan Rathore...

I was going to surprise him.

And unlike him...

I had absolutely no plan.

Which made it even better.

I made my way toward the small kitchen area of the cabin.

First things first.

Coffee.

I couldn't function without coffee.

Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

A few minutes later, a steaming mug sat in front of me.

Perfect.

I took a sip.

Instant happiness.

Now for the difficult part.

Breakfast.

I looked around the kitchen.

Then crossed my arms.

Then nodded confidently to myself.

Paratha.

I knew how to make paratha.

At least...

I was reasonably sure I knew how to make paratha.

Good enough.

I placed my coffee on the counter and cracked my knuckles dramatically.

"Let's do this."

The kitchen, unfortunately, did not seem impressed.

I ignored it.

Pulling the flour toward me, I poured some into a bowl.

Then stared at it.

For a second.

Then another.

How much water was I supposed to add?

I frowned.

No.

No negativity.

I was a surgeon.

I literally held people's lives in my hands.

Making a paratha couldn't possibly be harder than surgery.

Feeling reassured by my completely flawless logic, I added water and started kneading the dough.

A few moments later, flour covered my hands.

The counter.

Part of my sleeve.

And somehow...

My face.

I looked down at the mess.

Then took a sip of coffee.

Everything was under control.

Probably.

I continued kneading the flour.

At least, I was trying to.

My thoughts had already wandered elsewhere.

Back to yesterday.

The lake.

The snowfall.

The fireplace.

My head resting against Aryan's shoulder.

A smile appeared on my face automatically.

I looked down, shaking my head slightly.

Yesterday had been...

One of the most beautiful days of my life.

The realization made my chest feel strangely warm.

Without thinking, I grabbed my coffee mug.

Still smiling.

Still distracted.

Still completely lost in my memories.

I poured more liquid into the bowl.

Then paused.

Something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

I frowned.

The smell hit me first.

Coffee.

My eyes slowly lowered.

Then widened.

No.

No, no, no.

I had poured coffee into the flour.

Coffee.

Into the flour.

I stared at the bowl in complete horror.

My brain refused to process what my eyes were seeing.

Then I instinctively took a step backward.

A terrible decision.

The bowl somehow came with me.

For one horrifying second, it clung to my flour-covered hands.

Then—

CLANG!

The bowl hit the floor.

Coffee-flour dough exploded everywhere.

At the exact same moment—

My coffee mug slipped from my hand.

CRASH!

The mug shattered.

I froze.

Completely.

Utterly.

Absolutely.

Frozen.

Silence filled the kitchen.

I slowly looked down.

Flour covered the floor.

Coffee covered the floor.

The bowl was upside down.

The mug was broken.

And somehow...

There was dough on my shoe.

I didn't even know how that was possible.

I stared at the disaster I had created.

Then closed my eyes.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

"I am a surgeon."

A pause.

"I save lives."

Another pause.

Then I looked back at the floor.

"And yet..."

My shoulders dropped.

"I just made coffee paratha."

I placed both hands over my face.

This was a disaster.

A complete disaster.

Tears of frustration started forming in my eyes.

It was supposed to be a good surprise.

A nice surprise.

For once, I wanted to do something for him.

But apparently the universe had looked at my plans and decided to create its own.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached my ears.

A second later, Aryan appeared in the kitchen.

"What happened?"

I slowly lowered my hands.

And pointed at the floor.

"I poured coffee into flour."

Silence.

Aryan looked at me.

Then at the floor.

Then at the overturned bowl.

Then at the shattered mug.

Then back at me.

A smirk appeared on his face.

My eyes narrowed immediately.

"Don't."

His smirk grew.

Unfortunately.

"What were you doing here?"

I released a defeated breath.

"I thought I would make surprise breakfast for you."

The words sounded ridiculous now.

I gestured helplessly toward the crime scene.

"But I always end up with this."

His gaze softened slightly.

Which somehow made everything worse.

I covered my face with my hands again.

"I can't do anything."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

The kitchen fell quiet.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then I felt his hands gently wrap around my wrists.

Carefully.

Patiently.

He lowered my hands from my face.

I refused to look at him.

Instead, I stared stubbornly at the floor.

Aryan's voice was quieter when he finally spoke.

"Mahi."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Mahi."

"I created coffee dough."

A pause.

Then—

A laugh escaped him.

I immediately looked up.

"Aryan!"

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sorry.

Not even a little.

I could see it.

The traitor was trying not to laugh.

"I was trying to do something nice."

His expression softened again.

And this time, he reached up and tucked a flour-covered strand of hair behind my ear.

"You did."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You tried."

His thumb brushed a small patch of flour off my cheek.

"That matters more."

For a moment, I just stared at him.

Then at the floor.

Then back at him.

The kitchen was still destroyed.

The breakfast was still dead.

And there was probably coffee dough on my shoe.

But somehow...

It didn't feel quite as terrible anymore.

I looked at him.

The tears I had been trying so hard to hold back finally gathered in my eyes.

My gaze dropped to the floor again.

To the flour.

The coffee.

The broken mug.

The evidence of my failure.

A shaky breath escaped me.

"I always end up with this."

My voice came out quieter than I intended.

"I thought I would surprise you."

For a moment, Aryan said nothing.

Then I felt his fingers gently tilt my chin upward.

Making me look at him.

His dark eyes met mine.

Steady.

Patient.

"Mahi."

I blinked.

A tear slipped free.

He smiled softly.

"You surprised me."

Confusion crossed my face.

I glanced toward the disaster behind him.

"How?"

His smile widened slightly.

"Mahi Rathore trying to make breakfast for me?"

A small laugh escaped him.

"I never thought I would see that."

I stared at him.

Trying to figure out if he was teasing me.

But there was no mockery in his eyes.

Only warmth.

"You really thought you could cook?"

I gasped.

"Aryan!"

That earned an actual laugh from him.

The traitor.

He shook his head.

Then reached forward and wiped away the tear resting on my cheek.

"You woke up early."

His voice softened.

"You came into the kitchen."

Another pause.

"You wanted to do something for me."

My breath caught slightly.

Because when he said it like that...

It sounded different.

More important.

Aryan glanced at the floor briefly.

Then back at me.

"The breakfast failed."

A pause.

"But the surprise didn't."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

And for the first time since dropping the bowl...

A smile appeared on my face.

Small.

But real.

Aryan immediately noticed.

Of course he did.

"There she is."

I rolled my eyes.

But the smile stayed.

And somehow...

The kitchen didn't look quite as disastrous anymore.

He placed both hands on my shoulders.

Firm.

Steady.

Like he had already made a decision.

"Now," he said.

"We are going to complete your surprise."

I blinked.

Then looked at the battlefield behind him.

Then back at him.

"How?"

Aryan glanced toward the counter.

Then at the flour still sitting there.

A smirk appeared on his face.

The dangerous one.

"The same way every successful operation happens."

My brows pulled together.

"What?"

He pointed toward the ingredients.

"You make the dough."

I immediately shook my head.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Mahi."

I crossed my arms.

"You saw what happened last time."

"I did."

"There were casualties."

His eyes moved to the broken mug.

"One casualty."

I pointed at the floor.

"And emotional damage."

That earned a laugh from him.

An actual laugh.

Then he took a step closer.

"You make the dough."

He grabbed another bowl and placed it on the counter.

"And I will do whatever you tell me."

I blinked.

"What?"

"I won't say anything."

Suspicion immediately flooded my face.

"You?"

He nodded.

"Me."

"You won't interfere?"

"No."

"You won't criticize?"

"No."

"You won't laugh?"

A pause.

Then—

"I'll try."

"Aryan."

"Fine."

I narrowed my eyes.

He raised both hands in surrender.

"I won't laugh."

I studied him carefully.

He was lying.

I knew he was lying.

He knew I knew he was lying.

But somehow...

I found myself smiling anyway.

Aryan pointed toward the flour.

"Come on, Snowflake."

I looked at the bowl.

Then at him.

Then back at the bowl.

A deep breath escaped me.

"Fine."

His smirk immediately returned.

I pointed a warning finger at him.

"If this goes wrong again, I'm blaming you."

Aryan pulled a chair out and sat down beside the counter.

Completely relaxed.

Like he had just purchased front-row tickets to a comedy show.

"I look forward to it."

I rolled my eyes.

Then reached for the flour.

This time...

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Probably.

I released a breath and turned back toward the counter.

This time, I was determined.

Absolutely determined.

I poured the flour into a fresh bowl.

Added water.

Carefully.

Very carefully.

Then started kneading.

A few minutes later, I looked down.

And froze.

It was a dough.

An actual dough.

A complete dough.

Not coffee dough.

Not disaster dough.

Just dough.

My eyes widened.

I immediately turned toward Aryan.

"Look!"

The smile on my face was impossible to hide.

Aryan glanced at the bowl.

Then at me.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Continue."

I nodded proudly.

Of course.

One successful step completed.

Now I needed a pan.

How difficult could that be?

I started looking through the kitchen.

After a few seconds, I turned toward Aryan.

"Where's the pan?"

He pointed toward an upper cupboard.

"There."

I followed his finger.

Found the cupboard.

Opened it.

And immediately spotted the pan.

Perfect.

The only problem was—

The pan was trapped behind approximately six hundred other utensils.

I reached up and grabbed the handle.

Then pulled.

Nothing.

I frowned.

Pulled harder.

Still nothing.

Behind me, Aryan stood up.

"Mahi."

I ignored him.

The pan and I were now in a battle of wills.

I pulled again.

Harder.

"Mahi."

One more pull.

Then—

The pan came free.

Unfortunately...

Everything else came with it.

For one horrifying second, time slowed.

A bowl tipped forward.

Then another.

Then a plate.

Then three spoons.

Then what looked like an entire metal family.

CLANG!

CRASH!

BANG!

CLANG!

The contents of the cupboard rained down around me.

Utensils bounced across the floor.

Bowls rolled under the counter.

A lid spun in circles dramatically before finally collapsing.

Silence.

Complete silence.

I stood there.

Still holding the pan.

Aryan stared at the floor.

Then at me.

Then at the pan in my hand.

I looked down at the destruction.

Then slowly raised the pan.

At least I got it.

For a second, Aryan said nothing.

Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

A laugh escaped him.

I immediately pointed the pan at him.

"You promised."

That only made him laugh harder.

The traitor.

Aryan placed a hand over his eyes.

As if looking at the kitchen disaster physically hurt him.

"Mahi."

I crossed my arms immediately.

"What?"

He gestured toward the floor.

The bowls.

The spoons.

The fallen utensils.

The complete destruction.

Then looked back at me.

"How are you a surgeon?"

I gasped.

The audacity.

"The nerve."

Aryan pressed his lips together.

Clearly trying not to laugh.

Which was making me even more offended.

I pointed the pan at him accusingly.

"In surgeries, we don't need pans."

His shoulders started shaking.

I narrowed my eyes.

"We don't need dough either."

A pause.

"And definitely not coffee."

That did it.

Aryan laughed outright.

The traitor.

The absolute traitor.

I stared at him.

Completely betrayed.

"You're supposed to be supporting me."

"I am."

"No."

"I am."

"You are laughing."

His laugh only got worse.

I dropped the pan onto the counter dramatically.

"Fine."

Aryan finally managed to control himself enough to speak.

Barely.

"I said I would help."

"You also said you wouldn't laugh."

His smirk returned immediately.

"That was before the cupboard exploded."

"It did not explode."

"It absolutely exploded."

I pointed at the floor.

"It was a controlled operation."

Aryan looked around the kitchen.

Then at me.

Then back at the kitchen.

"A controlled operation."

I nodded confidently.

"Exactly."

A bowl slowly rolled past us across the floor.

Clink.

Neither of us spoke.

Aryan raised an eyebrow.

I looked at the bowl.

Then at him.

Then back at the bowl.

"...Minor complications."

That earned another laugh from him.

And this time...

I found myself laughing too.

I grabbed the pan.

It immediately slipped from my hand.

CLANG.

I closed my eyes.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Very patiently.

"God."

A pause.

"Universe."

Another pause.

"Whatever higher power is currently watching me."

I placed a hand over my heart.

"Please stop testing me."

Behind me, I heard a suspicious choking sound.

Aryan.

Trying not to laugh.

Again.

I ignored him.

Bent down.

And picked up the pan.

The pan slipped again.

CLANG.

I stared at it.

The pan stared back.

At this point, I was convinced it had developed personal feelings against me.

I crouched down again.

Picked it up.

Held it firmly.

For exactly two seconds.

Then—

CLANG.

It slipped again.

Silence.

I remained crouched on the floor.

Staring at the pan.

The pan was winning.

And we both knew it.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Aryan was standing a few feet away.

Arms crossed.

Lips pressed together so tightly they were practically disappearing.

His shoulders were shaking.

The traitor.

I pointed at him from the floor.

"You can laugh."

That was all the permission he needed.

Aryan immediately turned away.

A laugh escaped him.

Then another.

Then several more.

I stared at him in complete betrayal.

"Aryan."

He held up a hand.

Trying—and failing—to stop laughing.

"I am sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I am."

"No."

Another laugh escaped him.

I narrowed my eyes.

"You are enjoying this."

He looked at me.

Still smiling.

"Maybe a little."

I pointed dramatically at the pan.

"I am fighting for my life."

"You are fighting a pan."

"Exactly."

His laugh came back immediately.

I looked down at the pan.

Then back at him.

Then sighed.

"Medicine was easier."

I left the pan exactly where it was.

The pan had won.

I accepted defeat.

Turning away from the battlefield, I marched back to the counter.

"It is impossible."

Aryan was still trying not to smile.

I pointed dramatically toward the floor.

"I don't know why the universe is testing me like this."

A sigh escaped me.

"I give up."

He immediately stepped in front of me.

"You can do it, Snowflake."

I shook my head.

"No."

"You are a surgeon."

I looked at him.

"Exactly."

His brows pulled together.

I released a frustrated breath.

"I can do surgeries."

I pointed toward the kitchen.

"But this?"

My voice cracked slightly.

"This is a disaster."

Aryan's expression softened immediately.

I looked away.

"I don't want..."

The words got stuck in my throat.

I pressed my palms over my eyes.

"It's just..."

A breath escaped me.

"I wanted to do something nice for you."

Silence.

"I wanted one thing to go right."

The next thing I knew, a hand wrapped around my waist.

Before I could react, Aryan lifted me effortlessly off the floor.

"Aryan!"

He ignored me completely.

As usual.

A second later, he placed me on the counter.

I blinked in surprise.

He stepped between my knees and leaned forward slightly.

"It's okay, Snowflake."

His voice was quiet.

Steady.

"I'm here."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

My hands slowly lowered from my face.

The frustration was still there.

So was the embarrassment.

Without thinking, I rested my forehead against his shoulder.

His arms immediately settled around me.

Comforting.

Certain.

Safe.

"I can't do anything properly," I muttered.

I felt him sigh softly.

Then one of his hands moved to the back of my head.

"You crossed an entire city by yourself when you were eighteen."

I blinked.

"You survived medical school."

A pause.

"You became a surgeon."

Another pause.

"You walked into an operating room and took responsibility for people's lives."

I stayed silent.

His chin rested lightly against my hair.

"And today you're crying because a pan defeated you."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

A very unwilling laugh.

Aryan smiled.

"There she is."

I rolled my eyes against his shoulder.

"The pan was evil."

"The pan was a pan."

"You weren't there."

"I was literally standing three feet away."

I finally looked up at him.

His eyes were warm.

Amused.

But mostly warm.

Then he said quietly,

"Mahi."

I hummed.

"You don't have to be good at everything."

For some reason...

That was the thing that finally made my chest loosen.

Not praise.

Not reassurance.

Just permission.

Permission to fail at making breakfast.

And somehow...

That felt nice.

I looked at him.

"What are we going to do now?"

Aryan straightened up and took a step back from the counter.

"We are going to make breakfast."

Relief appeared on my face.

Then disappeared.

Because he added—

"I will make breakfast."

The guilt hit me instantly.

Yesterday he had planned the entire date.

The lake.

The skating.

The cabin.

The dinner.

Everything.

And now he was making breakfast too.

Meanwhile, I had somehow managed to create coffee dough and start a war with a pan.

My gaze dropped.

Aryan noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

He always noticed.

Before I could say anything, he smiled warmly.

Not teasing.

Not amused.

Just warm.

As if he already knew what I was thinking.

"But," he said, walking toward the counter, "I can't do all this alone."

My head lifted.

"What?"

He pointed at me.

"You need to help me."

I blinked.

"After everything that happened?"

A laugh escaped him.

"Especially after everything that happened."

I narrowed my eyes.

"That sounds risky."

"It is."

He handed me a rolling pin.

I stared at it.

Then at him.

Then back at the rolling pin.

Aryan folded his arms.

"You are in charge of the dough."

My expression immediately turned suspicious.

"Why does that sound like a demotion?"

"Because it is."

"Aryan!"

He laughed.

The traitor.

I slid off the counter and stood beside him.

The kitchen still looked like a disaster zone.

The pan was still on the floor.

A spoon was somehow under a chair.

And there was flour on my sleeve.

Aryan glanced around.

Then looked at me.

Then at the kitchen.

Then back at me.

"We should probably clean first."

I followed his gaze.

A beat of silence passed.

Then simultaneously—

"No."

We both looked at each other.

Then burst out laughing.

For the first time that morning, the guilt disappeared completely.

Maybe the breakfast wouldn't be perfect.

Maybe half the kitchen would survive.

Maybe it wouldn't.

But for some reason...

Standing beside him in the middle of complete chaos felt surprisingly nice.

I released a breath and closed my eyes.

"Please, God."

A pause.

"Universe."

Another pause.

"Anyone listening."

I placed a hand over my heart dramatically.

"Please stop testing me."

When I opened my eyes, Aryan was already looking at me.

A smile immediately appeared on his face.

"Finished negotiating?"

I pointed at him.

"Don't start."

His smile only grew.

The traitor.

I turned toward the counter and started working again.

This time, I did exactly what he told me.

Add this.

Mix that.

Roll the dough.

Turn it.

Press it.

For the first few minutes, everything seemed normal.

Then something strange happened.

Nothing went wrong.

I blinked.

Looked down.

The dough looked normal.

The kitchen was still standing.

No utensils were falling from the sky.

No coffee had entered the flour.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I continued working.

A few more minutes passed.

Then I suddenly froze.

My head slowly turned toward Aryan.

He was leaning against the counter.

Arms crossed.

Watching.

Completely relaxed.

Not touching anything.

Not helping physically.

Just talking.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Aryan."

"Hm?"

"You said you needed my help."

He nodded.

"I did."

I pointed toward the counter.

"You are not doing anything."

His expression remained perfectly calm.

Far too calm.

"You wanted to make breakfast."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then he added,

"So I'm helping you."

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then realization hit me.

"You tricked me."

His smile widened.

"No."

"You did."

"No."

"Aryan."

He shrugged.

"I am supervising."

I pointed at the half-finished paratha.

"I made that."

"You did."

"The dough too."

"You did."

I narrowed my eyes further.

"And you haven't touched anything."

"You noticed."

I gasped dramatically.

The audacity.

Aryan laughed.

Then pushed himself away from the counter.

"Look at you."

I glanced down.

Then back at him.

"What?"

His eyes softened slightly.

"You thought you couldn't do it."

A pause.

Then he nodded toward the counter.

"But you already are."

For a second, I forgot my argument.

My gaze dropped to the dough.

Then to the paratha.

Then back to him.

A small smile appeared on my face.

Unfortunately.

Aryan noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

"There she is."

I rolled my eyes.

But this time...

I couldn't stop smiling.

After a few more minutes of very careful work...

I did it.

Actually did it.

Two parathas sat proudly on the plate in front of me.

Proper parathas.

Golden.

Warm.

Filled correctly.

Not burnt.

Not broken.

And most importantly—

Not coffee flavored.

A victorious smile appeared on my face.

I picked up the plate and marched toward Aryan.

With the confidence of a surgeon presenting successful test results.

I placed it in front of him.

Then crossed my arms.

"Well?"

Aryan looked down at the plate.

Then at me.

Then back at the plate.

I immediately grew suspicious.

Why was he taking so long?

Just eat it.

He tore off a piece.

Tasted it.

Chewed slowly.

Far too slowly.

My patience disappeared almost immediately.

"Aryan."

He kept chewing.

"Aryan."

Still chewing.

"ARYAN."

That earned a laugh from him.

The traitor.

Finally, he swallowed.

Then closed his eyes dramatically.

I froze.

Waiting.

A second later, he nodded.

"Delicious, Snowflake."

My smile instantly widened.

Success.

Victory.

Glory.

Then he opened his eyes and added—

"Definitely better than the coffee dough."

I stared at him.

Aryan immediately looked away.

Trying—and failing—not to smile.

"Aryan Rathore."

His shoulders started shaking.

"You promised."

"I promised not to laugh."

"You are laughing."

"I am appreciating your improvement."

I grabbed the nearest napkin and threw it at him.

He caught it effortlessly.

Unfortunately.

The traitor was talented.

Aryan took another bite of the paratha.

Then another.

This time there was no teasing.

No joke.

Just a small nod.

The kind he only gave when he genuinely meant something.

"It's good."

Something warm settled in my chest.

Because I knew he wasn't saying it to make me feel better.

He was saying it because he meant it.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I sat down beside him.

And stole a piece from his plate.

Aryan looked at me immediately.

I took a bite.

Then pointed at him.

"Sharing is caring."

He released a breath.

A smile appeared on his face.

And for some reason...

Breakfast tasted better than usual.