Chapter 17
But Akansha knew the truth. She remained unfazed by their comments.
She knew Shaurya had already been convinced in their very first meeting—he had only been deliberately delaying the approval.
Finally, she would place the approved papers on Mrs. Arora’s desk and shut them all up.
She was also relieved that she wouldn’t have to face Shaurya or meet him frequently after this.
If someone had told her a few months ago that she would be standing in a queue to meet Shaurya, or lining up to schedule an appointment with him, she would have called that person delusional. Yet here she was, on her way to his office.
Shweta greeted Akansha with a stiff smile. It didn’t take Akansha long to sense that something was off. Shweta had always been polite and warm, greeting her with a genuine smile every time—but today, she didn’t look like herself. She seemed conflicted, almost torn.
"Are you alright, Mrs. Gupta?" Akansha asked—the same question Shweta usually asked her.
"Yes, Dr. Dixit... Usually, that’s my question," Shweta replied lightly, attempting to normalise the moment. Akansha caught the effort.
"Didn’t know you had a copyright on it," Akansha said with a faint smile, which Shweta returned.
They weren’t friends, but they shared a quiet understanding—both women of strong values, both aware that they could rely on each other if ever needed.
"Sir will be free in another five minutes. You can go in then," Shweta said.
Akansha nodded, resisting the urge to sigh. Noticing Shweta’s lingering concern, she decided to ease it.
"My work will be done today. You won’t have to deal with me pestering you for appointments anymore," she said with a small smile.
Shweta felt a momentary sense of relief—but it didn’t change her decision. In her mind, Shaurya had made a woman feel unsafe, and no justification could excuse that. She wouldn’t continue working under a man like that.
"Good," Shweta said, turning her attention as the Home Minister, along with his assistant and the DGP, walked out. "Ms. Dixit, you can go in now."
Akansha nodded politely and walked toward Shaurya’s office. The usual anxiety Shweta noticed on her face every time she approached his cabin surfaced again—but this time, it was mixed with relief. Relief that she wouldn’t have to meet him again after today.
That same relief only reinforced Shweta’s belief—that she had been wrong about Shaurya all this time. Maybe the respect he showed women had only been a facade. And when the moment came, when a woman he was interested in stood before him, he hadn’t hesitated to make her uncomfortable.
Akansha knocked on the door and entered after a moment, carrying the necessary files. She saw Shaurya massaging his temples, taking deep breaths as he looked through some documents. That was his habit when something deeply irritated him.
"This is utterly stupid, Sharma. This is not why people chose us," Shaurya said, frustration evident in his voice.
"For now, we can’t do much, sir. It’s better to stay silent.
Elections are around the corner—you can address it after that," Mr. Sharma suggested.
He was confident Shaurya would return to power; the only question was the margin, especially with Dev and his party growing stronger over the past five years.
"I’ll play politics only during elections, Mr. Sharma—that’s something everyone knows.
And there are still a few months left. Until then, duty it is," Shaurya said, his tone turning cold and firm—making it clear he wouldn’t protect a spineless man drowning in corruption just because he funded their party.
Akansha’s steps halted at the door as she heard the conviction in his voice.
This was what had always drawn her to him—his commitment to people.
Shaurya wasn’t blindly idealistic; he knew how to maneuver the system and play the game on his own terms. He had a heart that was both compassionate and fearless.
But that admiration belonged only to Shaurya—the Chief Minister.
She had no such regard left for Shaurya—the husband.
Shaurya looked toward the door and saw Akansha standing there, waiting patiently for him to finish his discussion with his Principal Secretary. He knew she couldn’t hear the conversation unless he raised his voice. He also knew that was exactly why she had stayed at the door—to give them privacy.
Mr. Sharma followed Shaurya’s gaze.
"Dr. Dixit, could you please give us five more minutes? We’ll just wrap this up," Mr. Sharma requested.
"Sure... I’ll wait outside," Akansha said, about to leave, when Shaurya stopped her.
"That’s okay. Take a seat there—we’re almost done," Shaurya said casually, as if it didn’t matter whether she stayed or left. But his gesture carried weight, and Mr. Sharma understood it well. Allowing her to remain in the room during such discussions reflected a significant level of trust.
"Sir, should I ask the DGP to resume the investigation on ‘Balram Constructions’?" Mr. Sharma asked.
"Resume? No. If it’s been paused, don’t resume it now. Instead, make a note of everyone responsible for pausing it—and sue them on the first day of my second term," Shaurya said, catching Mr. Sharma off guard.
"Sir... all of them?" Mr. Sharma asked, uncertain.
"Was I speaking Arabic?" Shaurya snapped.
"Sir, there might be some big names involved. Some could even be part of your cabinet," Mr. Sharma clarified.
"They won’t be part of my cabinet again—don’t worry. Now, if you’re done, let’s push the rest for later. Dr. Dixit is waiting," Shaurya said, his tone subtly revealing his displeasure at having kept her waiting—a detail Mr. Sharma didn’t miss.
"Okay, sir," Mr. Sharma said, turning to leave. "Thank you, Dr. Dixit," he added on his way out.
Akansha gave a polite smile and walked toward Shaurya.
"These are the papers for the Phase-1 extension. If you don’t have any further queries, please sign them," Akansha said, deliberately avoiding addressing him as "Sir." She knew that might provoke him—and risk delaying the approval.
"I’ll sign them. But first, take a seat," Shaurya said softly, offering her his glass of water.
Akansha exhaled quietly before sitting down, politely declining the water—especially from his glass.
"So, how are you planning to adjust the timeline for the remaining phases? Do you think you’ll be able to complete them before the elections?" Shaurya asked, his tone turning formal.
"I’ve already shared the timeline with you, after thorough discussions with the other committee members.
We’re doing our best to adhere to it. However, since a major part depends on inputs from multiple agencies and the final results from the research committee, slight delays are expected.
Even then, we should be able to complete it before the elections.
But I would advise against rushing it as part of your campaign—it could impact future generations of the state.
Thorough planning is necessary before implementation," Akansha explained.
Her words stung him. Did she really think so little of him?
Once, he believed she understood him better than anyone.
But after everything he had done in the name of retribution, she no longer saw him with her heart.
Even before she could interpret his actions, her mind warned her of the damage he was capable of—and that realization unsettled him.
"I play politics during elections so that I can serve people for the next five years—not the other way around," he said, holding her gaze.
She looked away.
"I don’t need to hear what you do or don’t do, sir. You’re far beyond reach for me to even ask for explanations," Akansha replied politely—but her words cut deep.
"You do—only you do. I don’t help people for votes. I’m not that kind of man," he said quietly, still looking at her, desperate for her to believe that while he may have failed as a husband, he wasn’t failing as a leader.
Hearing the sincerity in his tone, she faltered for a moment. Did her opinion really matter to him? And if this was an act—why? His retribution had ended years ago. What could he possibly gain now? If anything, he had more to lose.
That meant he genuinely wanted her to see him as he was—a leader trying to do right. But why did her opinion matter so much?
Her heart had answers. She simply refused to listen.
Instead, she chose the safer ground—logic over emotion.
"Sir... please sign," Akansha said, breaking her own chain of thoughts.
"Stay for five minutes. I won’t ask for more," Shaurya said, his eyes fixed on hers.
She avoided his gaze. She couldn’t afford the way her heart tightened under it. She didn’t understand how he was able to look into her eyes after everything he had done to her.
And he answered—as if he had read that very question in her eyes.
"Every second I look into your eyes feels like a dagger to my heart. The tears I caused your poor eyes... they’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. My shame shouldn’t even let me look at you—but my heart knows neither shame nor pride. It has loved you since the day it chose you," Shaurya said.
That made her look at him—but only for a moment.
Then she stood up abruptly.
"These lines were enough to fool Akansha Dixit five years ago, but not anymore. So don’t waste your time. As I can see, you have better things to do. Focus on them," Akansha said coldly.
"These weren’t enough even then. She was a very tough woman. I had to bunk my assembly sessions just to pursue her. It took me three months to have my first conversation with you, remember?" Shaurya said.
Akansha rolled her eyes.
"It took exactly 92 days, 5 hours, and 16 minutes for you to finally acknowledge my presence," he added.
Her eyes widened at his claim. She knew he remembered every significant detail between them, but she hadn’t realized he tracked even the smallest ones so precisely.