𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

A building stood tall in the heart of London's corporate sector. The roads outside bustled with honking cars, rushing taxis, and the usual weekday chaos. But inside the tall building, the world moved in quiet precision.

The silence in the corridor was broken only by the clink of polished leather shoes against the marble floor, confident steps that announced his arrival before anyone saw him.

Employees straightened as he passed, murmuring respectful greetings.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Morning, sir."

He returned their greetings with a sharp glance and a tight-lipped smile. Clad in a crisp navy suit, a silver watch and a kada hugging his wrist, and he looked like exactly what he was: a man in control.

The elevator doors slid open to the top floor. His assistant was already waiting.

"Boardroom has been prepped. I've moved the investor call to the afternoon as per your request."

"Keep it sharp. No delays," he replied, walking past her and into his cabin, the glass-walled office that overlooked half of London.

Everyone in the office knew not to waste his time.

Paramjeet Singh Dhillon, CEO of Dhillon Enterprises, minded his own business and expected others to do the same.

He placed his tablet on the table, fixed his sleeves, and took a deep breath. London mornings were cold, but he was used to them now...quiet, busy, and the same every day.

It was the kind of life that made sense, even if it felt a little empty sometimes.

He closed his eyes for a second, leaning back into his chair.

The silence didn't last long.

His phone buzzed on the table. He opened one eye and glanced at the screen. Sighed. Declined.

It buzzed again but with a different name this time.

Maa.

He picked it up and switched to speaker.

"Ji Maa, boliye," he said, his voice calm.

"Haww, mera toh phone cut kar diya tha pehle?" came a over dramatic voice which clearly didn't belong to his mother.

"So desperate to talk to me, aren't you?" He frowned.

"Oh hello, i am not your toxic ex...bhai hu aapka... Maanveer Singh Dhillon hi kehde." the voice shot back, overly confident and the smirk could be practically heard from the phone call.

Before Param could respond, another voice entered the scene.

"Let me talk to him, give me the phone," a woman said in the background.

Then came a loud smack.

A real one.

"Ouch Maa, that hurts...a queen like me was never meant to deal with all this thappad and stuff, that too while living in london, but unfortunately i am," Maanveer said dramatically.

"Param puttar, I have booked the flight tickets. You're coming with us to punjab, We'll leave next week." His mother said, in a calm yet commanding tone.

"Maa, why don't you get it? I'm not saying no to Punjab. Of course we'll go," Param said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But not right now. The schedule here is packed. I can't just leave everything behind to hang out in the pind."

"Keh diya na ek baar... toh bas keh diya."
Her tone didn't rise...it didn't need to. "Come home today. We'll discuss your company then."

And with that, she cut the call. He stared at the screen for a while after the call ended.

A sigh escaped his lips.

"There's no winning against this woman."

Not in this lifetime, at least.

.
.
.
.
.
Paramjeet sat across the dining table, with his brother and father.

"Maa kithe aa?" Paramjeet asked Maanveer, who was busy watching cricket on his phone.
("Where's Maa?")

"She's seriously mad at you, bro...you never listen to her," Maanveer said, shaking his head but still focused on his screen.

"Maine kya kiya ab?" Param asked, genuinely confused.

"Kya nahi kiya aapne ye batao?" Maanveer said, now turning the screen off and looking at Paramjeet.

"Abey oye gadhe ki aulaa-" Param started, eyes narrowing.

"Naa Veere, Baap pe nahi jaana." Maanveer interrupted.

Their father, who had been quietly flipping through the newspaper all this time, finally looked up.

"Kyun? Maa gadhi nahi ho sakti tumhari?"

"Nahi! Tum sab hi gadhe ho. Pata nahi kin paagalon ke beech fas gayi mai."

Their mother appeared with a casserole in one hand and full dramatic flair in her voice.

"Toh aapne shaadi kyun kari gadhe se?" Maanveer said with a grin, clearly proud of his punchline.
He looked around, expecting at least one laugh. But instead, his mother's eyebrows rose, slowly and sharply.

She didn't say anything at first.
Just walked up behind him and-

THAKK!
THAKK!

Two tight punches straight to his back.

"Tera gadha banati hoon idhar aa!" she snapped.

"Maa, we're living in London, not Ranjhgarh." Maanveer yelped, trying to escape her reach like a toddler dodging bedtime.

"Toh? London mein Maa-baap ki izzat karna mana hai?" she said, catching his ear with expert speed.

"Aahh! Ear's not WiFi, stop resetting it!" he yelped.

"Dekh le Param... ab tu hi," she sighed dramatically, settling next to him at the table.

She took his hand in hers and patted it gently, that soft voice parents use right before emotionally blackmailing you into surrender.

"Isko thodi manners sikhaane ke liye leke jaana padega Punjab. Hai na?"

Unknowingly param nodded, while looking at his brother and trying to control his laugh looking at his red ear.

"Wonderful," His mother exclaimed. "Your father will handle the company work for the time being." She said, giving him a tight hug.

"Papa kaise sambhal lenge?" Param raised a brow, genuinely concerned.

"Puttar ji, baap... baap hunda hai," his father said with a calm smile, finally folding the paper and setting it aside like he'd been waiting to say that line all evening.

"Fine....but only for 2 months." Param said, accepting his defeat.

....

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