Chapter 7
His first reaction was irritation. God, he made sure he got it sent for washing now that Dev had used it. He hated sharing his duvet—he only ever shared it with his wife.
The thought hit him harder than he expected.
And with it, his past slipped into his mind without permission...
"What the hell are you doing? This is Shaurya’s blanket. You are his wife, don’t you know he hates sharing his personal things?" his mother snatched the duvet off his wife’s body.
He heard her screams from outside the washroom. He wanted to step out and shut his mother up right there. How dare she speak to his wife like that? But even in that moment of rage, he didn’t fully understand why it affected him so much.
"I… I know… but I have fever and my duvet wasn’t enough, so I took his… I’ll wash it after my temperature goes down," his wife replied in a timid tone. He could hear the tremor in her voice. She had fever? Why didn’t she tell him?
Yes, he hated her—but he had still accepted her as his wife. And no matter what he said, he always ensured her basic needs were met like a husband would. Except love. That was never part of his intention. His only purpose was to make her feel what it meant to be unloved.
"Fever? I know this is nothing like that. You are just acting to escape house chores. You were not a princess before marrying my son that I should treat you like a queen here. Get up and do the work," his mother said sharply. "And this goes to laundry," she added, snatching the duvet again.
That was enough.
Shaurya stepped out of the washroom, snatched the duvet back from his mother, and covered his wife with it, helping her lie down properly.
"She isn’t feeling well, Ma. Send breakfast to the room. I’ll give her medicine after she eats. If the fever doesn’t go down, I’ll call the doctor," he said calmly.
His mother opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.
"And yes… thanks for your concern. I don’t like sharing my blanket with anyone, but my wife is an exception," he said, looking straight at her. It was calm, but firm enough to warn her not to repeat her behavior.
"You should have told her," he added, looking at Akansha, who was visibly confused by his rare display of concern—though he kept it carefully masked.
His mother stormed out, furious at being contradicted.
"I’ll wash it by evening," she said weakly.
"Didn’t you hear what I just told Ma? You are an exception. And what’s new anyway—we share a blanket every day," he said.
She looked confused. He realized she didn’t know.
Every night, she would pull his duvet in her sleep whenever she felt cold, and he would quietly wrap her in it again. He had once tried switching off the AC for her comfort, but she woke up immediately because she felt too hot. After that night, he stopped doing that.
Instead, he adjusted. He kept the AC on, but made sure she was covered properly with his blanket as well. In the mornings, he would gently remove it from her and fold it back, placing it where it belonged, since she always felt warmer as the day began.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. That’s what everyone should think," he added quickly, not wanting her to read meaning into it. If she knew, she would assume care, and hope would return again. He couldn’t allow that.
Her face paled, but she nodded silently, convincing herself otherwise.
The servants brought breakfast. He ensured she took her medicine after eating.
"Text me if the fever rises again. I’ll send a doctor. Rest today. No need to go down or do any work. You are not exactly great at household chores anyway," he said before leaving for work without waiting for a reply. Not that she would have given one.
Her fever did rise again later, but she didn’t text him.
She didn’t want to take even a minute of his time.
He was busy with his people—always dedicated, always responsible.
Despite everything he had done to her, that one trait…
his devotion to his work and people… still held onto a corner of her heart.
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He put back his wife’s frame in the drawer, locking it safely, and pushed her thoughts aside for now.
"Dev… idiot… get up and f**k off… it’s 6 in the morning," Shaurya yelled, kicking his friend who was sleeping like a log.
"What? What happened?" Dev jolted awake.
"You jerk!" Dev screamed back immediately, realizing what had just happened.
"Save the rest of your curses for the phone. Now leave," Shaurya said, pulling the curtains aside and checking the lawn area.
People from his constituency often visited him—leaders from labor organizations, student unions, teacher associations, and various professions.
He had created this system himself to stay connected with ground reality.
Some came with genuine issues like wage concerns the government couldn’t immediately resolve.
At times, he had to disappoint them, and they didn’t always agree.
Yet he never stopped these daily sessions.
Meeting at least one group every day had become routine.
He would listen, explain, and try to make them understand. His consistency and patience gradually strengthened public trust, and his approval rating rose to levels no previous Chief Minister had achieved.
He also handled press conferences regularly, facing media scrutiny without hesitation.
At times, senior journalists cornered him with difficult questions, but he responded directly.
Shaurya believed change began with accountability.
People warned him that admitting mistakes would damage his image, but he did it anyway.
He believed the public had the right to honesty and apology.
Initially, it caused criticism, but over time it worked in his favor.
People began trusting him more. His supporters even turned his moments of honesty into viral content, especially the tech-savvy youth who amplified his image.
Dev, too, had advantages as a young leader, but his party lacked strong backing.
In contrast, Dev’s attempt to nominate a candidate from an underprivileged background during earlier elections was blocked by his own party members, even leading to his temporary suspension as party chief.
That incident gave him clarity about the rigidity within his system, pushing him to work harder to gain real decision-making power.
Shaurya believed Dev would be a strong competitor in the upcoming elections, especially now that he had more control over candidate selection.
"Fine…" Dev groaned.
"Wait. You’re not leaving. There are people outside. If anyone spots you, it’ll turn into a scandal," Shaurya warned, glancing through the curtains.
"Now I really feel like your girlfriend, Shaurya… stop your stupid theories. I’ll go through the back door," Dev said.
"You can’t. They can spot you there too. You’re staying here till tonight," Shaurya said firmly.
"Are you crazy?" Dev muttered. "This is why I tell you—hosting union leaders at your place every day is a bad idea, but you never listen."
"Stop complaining. My head is already bursting with your voice. Think of it as a day off. You love those anyway," Shaurya teased.
"Not funny, Shaurya," Dev glared.
"I wasn’t trying to be," Shaurya said simply and walked into the washroom.
He came out shortly after, dressed in his formal attire.
"Woah… I’m so lucky to witness the famous Chief Minister getting ready," Dev teased.
"Boast about it to voters. Might help your popularity," Shaurya shot back.
"A**h*le," Dev muttered.
"I’m leaving for office. I’ll ask Mrs. Sudha to send your meals up. Don’t leave this room. I repeat, stay here till I return," Shaurya said firmly.
"God… I feel like your dirty little secret," Dev groaned.
"Shut up. I’m serious," Shaurya said and left.
Downstairs, after breakfast, Shaurya quietly informed Mrs. Sudha about Dev and asked her to send his meals upstairs. She nodded, already familiar with Dev’s presence, and assured him she would handle it.
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A few days passed. Akansha and Siya came home after school. Akansha helped her little girl freshen up and change into her pajamas.
"Mama bear… I want little idli," Siya demanded.
"You mean button idli?" Akansha asked.
"Yes… yes…" Siya nodded excitedly, eyes fixed on the TV.
Akansha laughed at her excitement. She checked but didn’t have the batter at home and tried ordering it, but it was out of stock.
"Siya bear… I don’t have batter, baby. Will you be okay if I go get it from the nearby shop?" Akansha asked.
Siya nodded without looking away from the TV.
"Okay then, keep watching TV. Do not open the door unless it’s Richa aunty. I’ll be back soon. I’m leaving my mobile here—if anything, press 1 or 2, okay?" Akansha said.
Siya nodded carefully.
Akansha taught her how to unlock the phone and dial emergency contacts. She also made her memorize her phone number and emergency numbers. Thankfully, Siya was smart enough to know which number to use when needed.
She left for the nearby shop.
On her way back, she noticed her neighbor walking with his teenage daughter, his hand resting on the girl’s shoulder. At first, she didn’t think much of it, but the discomfort on the girl’s face made her pause. Something felt wrong.
She knew the man—Shekhar—had a reputation. Cheap behavior, constant inappropriate staring at women in the neighborhood, yet no one had ever formally complained. People avoided him instead; he worked in a government water tax department and held influence.
Akansha followed at a distance, trying not to look obvious. He noticed her and immediately removed his hand, increasing the distance between him and his daughter. That reaction only deepened her suspicion, but she had no proof.
Still, she decided to keep an eye on him.