For years, Meera had resented him. She wanted the movie version of love. She wanted candlelit dinners and deep conversations about feelings. She wanted him to look at her and quote poetry. Instead, she got a man who talked about mutual funds and fixed leaking taps. She had told her friends: "The spark is gone. We are just roommates." But today, with Dr. Farah’s voice in her head and Shukla Master’s wisdom filtering through the group chat, she saw something else. She watched Ankit’s hands. They were covered in grease. Why was he doing this? He could have called a plumber. He was doing it because he knew she hated the sound of the dripping tap. He was doing it because he knew she was worried about the water quality for Rahul. He wasn't performing love. He was being love.