Chapter 16 #2
"Send it to the CM office’s official mail ID, Ms. Dixit. I’ll open it from here... can’t risk government data," he said, pointing at her laptop.
She wanted to snap at him—what did he mean?
That she’d steal data through the connector or transfer a virus into his system?
Idiot Shekhawat, she thought. But she quickly understood his professional obligation.
She nodded, sent the mail, and he opened it immediately, projecting it onto the screen.
He handed her the remote to change slides herself—but unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for Shaurya, the remote wasn’t working.
The batteries were dead, and though he had spares in his drawer, he didn’t replace them.
"No problem, Dr. Dixit, I’ll operate it from here," he said.
She nodded—she had no other option. She caught the faint smirk in his eyes and resisted the urge to slam his head against the table.
She stood up and began her presentation. After completing the first slide, she opened her mouth to say "Next slide," but before she could, he changed it—knowing her too well.
That simple gesture made her blush slightly.
She was the kind of woman who might not blush at compliments or romantic words—but understanding gestures always affected her.
She tried to control her expression, but she was too late.
Shaurya caught the faint pink on her face, and it made him reach for the glass of water on his table, gulping it down.
Akansha looked away and resumed her presentation once he was done tending to his "thirst." After each slide, she gestured to him with her eyes to move forward—and he did. That silent coordination made his heart race unnaturally fast.
Soon, Akansha finished her presentation—disappointing him.
"So, sir?" she asked, seeking his decision on the Phase 1 extension.
"Um... Dr. Dixit..." he gulped. He still hadn’t fully stepped out of the Akansha space he had slipped into the moment she began presenting. That didn’t mean he hadn’t paid attention—he had, and he was convinced by her explanation.
But these moments, those silent eye gestures, made him feel more alive than he had in the past five years.
She waited patiently.
"I have a few doubts about how you plan to handle the challenges you mentioned... You did explain your approach, but I have a few queries regarding that," he said.
"Sure, go ahead, sir," she said, waiting—though she highly doubted he had any real questions.
"Um... I have other meetings lined up... so next time... ask Shweta to block some time again tomorrow," Shaurya said.
Akansha’s eyes widened.
"Sir... I won’t take much time. Please ask your questions—I’ll answer quickly, and we can close this today itself. I don’t want to waste your time," she said, stressing the last word, clearly eager to end the interaction.
"Dr. Dixit, I completely understand your desperation, but I can’t make these decisions in such a short span. So yes... we’ll discuss this in the next meeting," he said.
She wanted to strangle him.
She hated spending even a minute in his presence.
True, her mind whispered.
Maybe not entirely, her racing heart argued.
Her heart hated him too—but it was weak where he was concerned, always leaning toward him. That wordless exchange through their eyes had affected her just as deeply as it had him.
"Okay then, I’ll take your leave, sir," Akansha said, shutting her laptop and packing her things.
"You still have five minutes, Dr. Dixit," he reminded her.
She glared at him. He was desperate to stop her—even for a minute more.
"I don’t want to waste your precious time, sir... Maybe you can gift those five minutes to someone from the 'lined-up meetings'," she said.
Akansha rocked; Shaurya shocked.
She packed her things and was about to leave when she noticed his name board—"Shaurya Singh Shekhawatt.
" The double "t" sent her heartbeat racing.
She quickly looked at him, her eyes filled with hundreds of questions and emotions that she tried to conceal—but she could never hide her feelings from him.
"My wife believed in numerology. She used to say the extra 't' would bring me success and prosperity... but she never told me I wouldn’t have her to share them with," he said, hoping she would finally burst out her anger and frustration at him.
And she would have—she would have grabbed his collar and told him he was the one who drove her away with his cruel behavior, his betrayal, the way he broke her heart—if she had been the old Akansha. But time had taught her how to control her emotions and her pain.
She gave him a small smile—but that smile revealed her excruciating pain more than her tears ever could.
He stood up, about to step forward—to hold her, to embrace her, to fall at her feet, to do anything to lessen her pain—but before he could act, she gave him a respectful nod and walked out quickly.
The moment she stepped outside, she leaned against the wall. Her anxiety—and the emotions she had locked away for years—surged all at once.
In trying to control herself, she didn’t notice Shweta standing there.
"Are you okay, Dr. Dixit?"
Akansha startled at Shweta’s voice.
Shweta frowned, noticing her pale face—her skin damp with sweat.
"You don’t look okay, Ms. Dixit. Have some water... sit here," Shweta said gently, guiding her to the nearby sofa.
Akansha accepted the glass of water and, after a moment, composed herself.
"Is something wrong? I could help—please tell me. Did Sir...?" Shweta asked, her earlier doubts about Shaurya resurfacing.
"Um... no. I just got nervous," Akansha said quickly, understanding from Shweta’s tone that she was indirectly suspecting Shaurya.
"You seem to be a very confident woman, Dr. Dixit... Are you sure that’s the truth?" Shweta asked again.
She might have worked under Shaurya, but she was a woman first. She had stayed all these years not just because he was a capable statesman and a good Chief Minister, but because he respected women.
But if that respect turned out to be a facade, she wouldn’t hesitate to request a transfer.
Though she believed Shaurya wasn’t that kind of man, she also knew how unpredictable people could be.
"Confident women get nervous too sometimes, don’t they, Mrs. Gupta?" Akansha replied, regaining her composure.
"I suppose you’re right... Let me know if I can help you in any way," Shweta said.
"Actually, yes," Akansha replied, asking her to block some time with Shaurya the next day.
Shweta frowned slightly but didn’t question her. She informed Akansha that the next few days were already packed, so she scheduled a slot a couple of days later.
Akansha thanked her and left.
She reached home to find her daughter asleep on the couch and Richa lost in deep thought.
Akansha exhaled slowly and went to freshen up. Her emotions were still all over the place, and she knew that if she spoke to Richa in that state, she might say something harsh—something she would regret—to the one person who had stood by her through everything.
After freshening up thoroughly, she returned, gently lifted her daughter, and carried her to the bedroom. She wiped her face with a wet tissue, noticing the dried tear marks, tucked her in under her unicorn duvet, and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.
Then she stepped out of the room—ready to face her best friend.
"Akansha..." Richa started, about to apologize, but Akansha cut her off.
"Why did you take Siya with you—especially when you were going to meet that man? You should have left her with your parents," Akansha said. She tried to control her temper, but the thought of Shaurya finding out that Siya was his daughter kept fueling her anger.
"I didn’t have much time... I’m sorry, Ansha... I thought there was no harm, just this once," Richa said, feeling terrible for lying to her best friend.
"No harm? How could you decide that? Did you forget how hard it was for us to divert Siya from her insistence on meeting him? What if she starts again? You know very well Siya won’t step down once she sets her mind on something.
.. ‘baap pe gayi hai puri’ (she is exactly like her father)," Akansha muttered the last part under her breath—but Richa heard it, and it surprised her. Akansha never spoke about Siya’s father.
"So, Siya’s father was stubborn?" Richa asked.
"He still is..." Akansha replied angrily before she could stop herself. Her mind had drifted to her brief meeting with Shaurya earlier.
"Huh?" Richa frowned, confused.
"Because a man like him can never change. I’m sure of it," Akansha covered quickly, the anger in her tone supporting her words. "Now stop this discussion. I don’t want to talk about it. But you have to promise me—Siya will never meet that man again," she said, extending her palm.
"Ansha..." Richa trailed off. How could she promise that? What if Siya fell sick from crying? Today, she had seen the child’s attachment to Shaurya.
Siya had cried all the way, feeling guilty about Akansha scolding Richa—but once they got home, a new fear had taken over her: what if her mother never allowed her to meet her friend again?
That thought had made her cry even more, and Richa had struggled to calm her down.
"Siya likes the Chief Minister. She wants to be friends with him, and he seems to be good to her. What if she meets him once in a while?" Richa suggested.
"Shut up. Don’t say a word. Siya. Won’t. Meet. That. Man," Akansha snapped, stressing every word. It didn’t sit well with Richa.
"Calm down, Ansha..." Richa said.
"Don’t ask me to calm down when you take my daughter to that man behind my back. You will not take my daughter to him ever—or I’ll block your access to Siya," Akansha said, shocking her.
"You can’t say that, Akansha. Siya is like my daughter too. Not just you—I’ve raised her like my own. I love her like my child. I know you’re upset, but this..." Richa said, anger rising in her voice.