Tara sat cross-legged on the bed, her notebook open in front of her, pencil moving quickly as she solved her sums. Her brows furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed, and every now and then she muttered the numbers under her breath. A few stubborn strands of hair had slipped loose, brushing against her cheeks and tickling her face. Irritated, she kept tucking them back behind her ear, only for them to fall forward again.

Mihir, leaning casually against the wall at first, watched her silently. The sight made his lips twitch into a soft smile—his wife was lost in her little world, fighting a battle with numbers as if the entire universe depended on her answers. Shaking his head with amusement, he walked towards the drawer, rummaged a bit, and pulled out a rubber band. Without announcing his presence, he moved closer until he was standing right beside her.