Chapter 3 #2
"Fine. Stealing it is. How much?" he asked.
Akansha looked at him bitterly. He had not even asked whether it was true. He had already chosen to believe his mother. But then, what else had she expected from the man who gave her pain more easily than kindness?
"Twenty thousand," his mother replied.
"Fine. Here." He handed her the money. "I'm repaying it. Forget the matter now, Ma. And next time, don't create a scene in front of everyone. She is my wife."
He turned to leave, but his mother stopped him.
"At least ask her why she needed so much money."
"I will, Ma," he said flatly and walked away.
"Bloody thief," his mother muttered toward Akansha.
He heard it. But he was too drained to react.
"Akansha... come to the room," he called out as he walked upstairs.
His mother smirked, expecting another fight between husband and wife.
Akansha entered their room and locked the door behind her. That had become routine. Shaurya never wanted anyone to know the truth of their marriage.
She stood silently, waiting for the sharp words that usually followed.
"Don't take my words seriously. I had to defend you because, unfortunately, your respect reflects on mine," he said coldly. "I hate every time I call you my wife, but I had to."
His words struck like knives. Still, she lowered her eyes and hid her tears.
"Anything else?" she asked quietly.
No, she would not break in front of him.
"No."
He walked toward the washroom. The real reason he had called her upstairs was simple — he did not want her downstairs enduring his mother's taunts. But he would never let her know that.
"Won't you ask me if I really took the money?" she asked softly. "And if I did... why?"
Hope lingered in her voice. She knew his answer, yet some stubborn part of her heart still wished for softness.
"I don't care," he said, shutting the washroom door behind him.
She closed her eyes.
She hated herself for loving him this much.
Her heart kept pushing her toward a man who only wounded her pride.
Expecting love, concern, or tenderness from someone who had married her for revenge felt like betraying her own dignity.
Yet she could not stop. She loved him too deeply — more than was good for her.
And no, she had not stolen the money. One of the servants had taken it. She had seen it happen and informed her mother-in-law, but the older woman trusted the servant more than her own daughter-in-law.
And Shaurya had believed the accusation without hesitation.
He came out after showering, changed into his night clothes, and sat on the bed. Dinner had been placed on the table. He assumed a servant had brought it.
Akansha lay on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
He sighed and ate silently. He wanted to ask if she had eaten, but he could not let her think he cared. So he said nothing.
Later, he went to his study and buried himself in work.
Hours passed.
When he returned, the food was still untouched. She was lying in the same position, eyes fixed on nothing.
Something in him cracked at the sight of that emptiness.
"Get up and eat," he said roughly.
No response.
He filled a plate, walked over, and slammed it onto the table in front of her.
She startled and sat up.
"Eat. Don't create a scene."
He expected a sharp comeback, some sarcastic remark the way she usually responded to his rudeness. But she said nothing.
She simply sat up and ate in silence.
When she finished, she lay back down on the couch.
He frowned.
Every night, she slept on the bed beside him. Those few hours had become the only peaceful part of his day. What he did not know was that they were hers too. She hated admitting it, but sleeping in his arms often felt like the only comfort left in her life.
He tossed and turned on the bed, unable to sleep.
Finally, he spoke.
"Come here and sleep."
"Sorry. I'm not in the mood to be your sl*t tonight, Mr. Shekhawat."
The words hit harder than she knew.
His blood burned with anger — not at rejection, but at the way she spoke of herself. How could she use such a degrading word for her own worth?
He wanted to pull her into his arms, shake sense into her, silence her with a desperate kiss. But he would not. That was not who he was.
He would rather walk away than ever lay violent hands on a woman.
But knowing that he was the reason she spoke of herself that way scorched something inside him. And he knew, though he did not admit it then, that this guilt would stay with him for years.
There had only been one time he had physically hurt her — when he demanded she marry him and gripped her forearms in anger. He had released her the moment he realized what he was doing.
But the memory never released him.
He had never forgiven himself for it.
Before he could sink further into self-loathing, his secretary, Mrs. Shweta Gupta, entered the room, followed by Mr. Naveen Sharma, his Principal Advisor.
Almost instantly, Shaurya shifted gears.
The personal turmoil was pushed back, buried beneath the weight of official responsibility.
He immersed himself in state affairs, locking away memories that brought him unbearable regret—though even then, fragments of his wife’s presence lingered in the quiet corners of his mind, softening the edges of his otherwise rigid composure.
"Sir... everything is set for the meeting. Shall we?" Mr. Sharma asked politely.
Shaurya nodded once and rose from his seat.
------------------------
"Why are you so stressed?" Akansha asked, handing the coffee cup to her best friend Richa.
Richa Upadhyay, a journalist by profession, had a stressful job, though she loved what she did. But at times like this, she felt she shouldn’t have taken such a demanding profession. And in moments like these, Siya became her stress buster.
It had been three hours since Richa arrived at Akansha’s place, yet she hadn’t spoken much.
She kept working on her laptop with Siya sleeping on her lap.
Akansha didn’t disturb her, knowing this wasn’t new.
Whenever Richa was stressed, she came here and worked in silence.
Peaceful heaven—that’s what Richa called Akansha’s home.
Though only Akansha and Siya lived there, she had carefully decorated the house, blending both her and her daughter’s tastes, making it warm and homely.
She had put a lot of effort into turning it into a safe space for her daughter, but it had an unintended effect—Richa had also adopted it as her refuge on stressful days, which was often, at least three weeks a month.
"Don't even ask, babe," Richa said, taking the coffee mug and pressing it lightly against her forehead, hoping the warmth would ease her headache.
"I have a hot bag if you need it," Akansha said.
"Yeah, I know... but I don't need it now," Richa replied, and Akansha rolled her eyes. Of course she knew everything in the house.
"I think it's high time you consider shifting in with us," Akansha said sarcastically.
"I think so too, but my parents wouldn’t allow it, especially my father," Richa said, sipping her coffee.
Akansha rolled her eyes again.
"I’ll make her sleep comfortably in the bedroom. Hope your ‘therapy’ is done for today," Akansha said, taking Siya in her arms. Yes, Siya was Richa’s therapy.
"Yeah yeah, done for today. I’d be broke spending all my money on counseling and therapy if not for my Siyu baby," Richa said, kissing Siya’s head.
Akansha shook her head and carried Siya to the bedroom, placing her carefully on the bed, covering her with a duvet, and placing pillows around her. She then returned to the hall and sat beside Richa.
"Okay now... out with it," Akansha said.
She already knew Richa would vent now—and as expected, she did. But the topic was the one thing Akansha disliked the most.
"I’m sick of people calling me a biased journalist," Richa said. "Yes, I work in a channel where the opposition party’s leader holds major stakes, but that doesn’t mean my news is biased."
Akansha let out a slow sigh. She hated politics and anything related to it, but she had no option but to listen.
"I know you hate it," Richa added, "but you’re the only one I can vent to, so you have no choice."
Akansha nodded helplessly.
"I only have one issue—people think I’m promoting Dev Bisht just because of my channel," Richa continued. "I love covering him, yes, he’s a wonderful leader, but that doesn’t mean I’m degrading Shaurya Singh Shekhawat."
At that name, a shiver ran through Akansha’s spine.
She avoided news channels completely now. Every channel had him. She hadn’t watched news in over three years—the last time being Richa’s debut, which she couldn’t miss. Other than that, she deliberately stayed away from anything related to him.
Except Siya.
Her daughter, who unknowingly reminded her of him every single day.
"I need to go... Siya must be awake," Akansha said, trying to get up.
But Richa held her wrist and pulled her back.
"You just put her to sleep. She won’t wake up for another hour. Sit," Richa said firmly.
Akansha sighed and sat back down.
Richa continued, "People think I’m biased. If I wanted, I could easily broadcast against the CM. I have enough material. But every time I try, Dev Bisht stops me. I don’t understand why. Both these men are a mystery I’ve been trying to decode for years."
Akansha stayed silent.
She knew why. Of course Dev wouldn’t allow anything against Shaurya. They were best friends.
But she couldn’t say that. Not to Richa. The first question would be how do you know this?—and she wasn’t ready for that.
She only wanted distance from Shaurya Singh Shekhawat. But life kept dragging his name back to her—through Richa, through Siya, through everything.
"Now say something," Richa asked.
"I thought you wanted me to just listen," Akansha replied, earning a glare.
"I really want to expose everything I have against the CM," Richa continued, frustrated. "But damn Dev Bisht... I can’t. Maybe he’s waiting for the right time."
Akansha sighed quietly.
She had news that could work against Shaurya, but it wasn’t directly against him.
It was against his party members, who were known as his father’s close allies.
They were the oldest members of the party and also held critical portfolios in the government, and any news leak about them could be very risky.
If they were proven guilty and convicted, there were high chances the government would collapse.
Of course, the people of the state would re-elect Shaurya Singh Shekhawat anytime.
The state didn’t have a strong opposition since the time Shaurya had taken charge of his party.
Very few among the opposition leaders were popular, and Dev held the top position among them.
He had been trying his best to strengthen his party’s presence and influence in the state.
This was what Shaurya also desired. He believed a stronger opposition led to better governance and kept the government on its toes always.
"Hm..." Akansha said, nodding her head as if she was listening carefully.
"Oh God! I don’t know why you hate this topic so much... you are not any help Ansha..." Richa said, getting up and walking into the kitchen.
Akansha closed her eyes, silently praying for strength.
She never wanted to participate in any conversation related to that man, but in doing so, she kept upsetting her best friend whose job revolved around politics.
She knew that if her best friend had even an inkling of her past, she would never raise that topic.
But Akansha didn’t want to reveal it to anyone.
Not that she didn’t trust Richa—she did—but she couldn’t bring herself to remember everything she had faced.
Even thinking about him was difficult for her, and she knew talking about him might break her completely. So she avoided it.
Richa had once tried asking Akansha about Siya’s father, but Akansha had remained silent.
Not a word. Not even one. This continued for a year.
When Richa eventually asked her sternly, Akansha had tried to speak, but even then, the moment she attempted to say anything, panic rose, her breathing quickened, and it took hours for Richa to calm her down.
After that, Richa never raised the topic again, and Akansha was thankful for it.
It wasn’t as if they never discussed Siya’s father or what would happen when Siya grew older and started asking questions. They discussed everything—but never that person.
All Richa knew was that the man had married Akansha because he hated her and wanted to destroy her life. That was how Akansha had escaped from him.
Akansha felt guilty and walked into the kitchen to make up for her earlier detachment.
"I’m sorry darling..." Akansha said, hugging Richa from behind while she chopped vegetables. "Let me help you," she added, taking the chopping board.
Richa gave her a wide smile.
"Chop nicely... I don’t want to disappoint my therapist," Richa said.
Akansha laughed at her friend’s nickname for Siya.
Yes, Siya was truly a therapist—not just for Richa and Akansha, but for everyone.
Her calm nature, breathtaking smile, and peaceful presence could soothe anyone, just like her father.
Perks of having the genes of a handsome man who possessed all the good qualities in the world.
He had been good to everyone… except her, Akansha thought bitterly.
"You won’t... you would never disappoint anyone," Akansha said.
Richa took a deep breath.
"I do... these days, all I’m doing is disappointing people, especially the man I adore and respect so much, Mr. Dev Bisht..." Richa said.
Akansha understood why. Richa kept insisting that Dev would help her expose everything about the ruling party, but Dev had stopped her every time.
"You work so closely with the opposition leader, why don’t you ask him yourself about revealing stuff about the... the CM," Akansha said with difficulty.
"You think I haven’t?" Richa replied.
Akansha sighed.
That was it. She couldn’t tolerate this topic any longer.
"Okay okay... for now stop thinking about all that. I’m sure you’ll figure something out," Akansha said, hugging Richa.
Richa smiled at her best friend who always believed in her abilities despite what the world said.
For Richa, Akansha and Siya were family, just like her parents. She loved them deeply and knew they loved her too. She knew she wasn’t aware of Akansha’s past, but she no longer pressed it. She understood it wasn’t because Akansha didn’t trust her, but because she couldn’t speak about it.
They finished cooking. Akansha woke Siya up, and the trio had dinner, with Siya’s nonstop questions filling the room and keeping them entertained the entire time.