The gates of the Sign mansion closed behind them with a quiet finality.
Najma stepped out of the car and adjusted her sari pallu, the familiar grandeur of the house no longer intimidating. Tonight, it felt… manageable.
Inside, Sasha looked up from her seat.
"You're back earlier than expected."
"Yes," Najma replied politely. "We didn't want to stay too late."
Sasha nodded once. "Did you eat?"
Najma paused. "Lightly."
Instead of heading upstairs, Najma turned toward the kitchen.
The staff looked startled when they saw her enter.
"Bhabhi, you don't need to—" one of them began.
Najma smiled gently. "I want to."
She washed her hands, tied her hair back, and moved with quiet confidence.
The scent of spices soon filled the air.
Jeera crackled in hot oil.
Garlic browned gently.
Fresh herbs were chopped with care.
Najma cooked without haste, following instincts shaped by years in the Takur kitchen.
Ranveer passed by once.
Then twice.
By the third time, he stopped.
"You're cooking?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied simply. "I missed it."
He nodded. "It smells… like home."
Dinner was served shortly after.
Kapoor raised an eyebrow.
"This was made by—?"
"Najma," Sasha said calmly, though her tone held surprise.
Shruti tasted first. Her eyes widened.
"This is… very good."
Jodha nodded eagerly. "It reminds me of my mother's cooking."
Najma smiled politely, lowering her gaze.
Ranveer took a bite.
Then another.
He didn't speak.
But he reached for more.
Sasha set her spoon down slowly.
"You didn't have to do this," she said.
Najma met her eyes. "I wanted to."
Sasha studied her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
Rangeer had been quiet throughout the meal.
He noticed things others didn't.
The way Najma served everyone before sitting down.
The way she remembered who liked less spice.
The way the house felt… warmer.
When the food reached him, he paused.
"This is really good," he said sincerely.
Najma smiled. "I'm glad."
No hesitation.
No lingering looks.
Just ease.
And that was how he knew—whatever he once felt had truly ended.
Later, as he passed through the corridor, he overheard Sasha speaking softly to Shruti.
"She's different," Sasha said. "Not loud. But strong."
Rangeer smiled faintly to himself.
Yes.
She was.
As he stepped onto the balcony, his phone buzzed.
A message.
Twinkle:
Did you reach home?
He blinked.
Then typed back.
Rangeer:
Yes. You?
Twinkle:
Home. Mom is interrogating me.
He chuckled quietly.
And for the first time, the thought surprised him—
When did I start waiting for her messages?
That night, Najma stood on the balcony, the sounds of the house alive behind her.
She hadn't just returned.
She had contributed.
And for the first time, the Sign mansion felt less like a place she stayed—
And more like a place she belonged.