PIYA KAUR

The Flame Behind the Fire

In the heart of the city's most coveted kitchen stands Piya Kaur — a woman forged by ambition, sharpened by heartbreak, and tempered by flame.

At 30, she commands attention the moment she walks in. With her sharp, kohl-lined eyes and a gaze that could slice cleaner than any knife she wields, Piya is not easily ignored. Her skin glows with the warm bronze of long days spent near burning stovetops, and her dark hair, always tied in a high, no-nonsense bun, escapes in wisps that frame her fierce expression — like a wild fire refusing to be tamed.

Her voice carries authority — not raised, just final. She speaks like someone who's learned that the world doesn't listen to the soft-hearted. But beneath the spice and steel lies a quiet ache, one she hides behind perfectly plated dishes and late nights spent perfecting recipes no one else will ever see.

Once a soft-spoken dreamer from a small Punjabi town, Piya transformed herself through sheer grit. Her knives are her weapons, her kitchen her battlefield — and she's earned every ounce of respect she gets in a male-dominated world.

She doesn't believe in second chances.

She doesn't believe in looking back.

Until he walks in again.

And suddenly, the woman who mastered fire finds herself afraid of getting burned.

VIOM CHADDHA

The Man Who Fixes Hearts — Except His Own

At 32, Dr. Viom Chaddha is the kind of man people instinctively trust — and fear breaking.

Tall, with broad shoulders and a naturally graceful stride, Viom carries the stillness of someone who has spent years mastering chaos. In the operating room, he is calm, focused, and god-like in precision. His hands have saved lives, stopped fatal bleeds, and held failing hearts in a silence most people never survive.

But outside the hospital?

He is a mystery tightly stitched in silence.

With intense, deep-set eyes the color of stormy dusk, Viom speaks less and listens more — as if always diagnosing, dissecting, understanding. His jawline is sharp, often shadowed with the kind of stubble that suggests he's too busy saving others to care about mirrors. He dresses simply — white coats, dark shirts, sleeves always rolled up — as if he doesn't need clothes to command attention. It's his presence that does it.

Raised in privilege but driven by pain, Viom chose a path of healing when life gave him every reason to shut down. There's a sadness behind his gaze, one that speaks of love lost, words unspoken, and choices that still echo at 3 AM.

And then there's Piya.

The one person who saw through the perfect son, the brilliant surgeon, the always-in-control man.

She saw the real Viom — years ago.

Then left without a goodbye.

He buried her with the rest of his regrets.

But now... she's bleeding in front of him again.

And this time, he doesn't know if he's trying to save her heart — or protect his own.