Chapter 21 #2
His staff always carried ice packs after an incident when he had sprained his ankle during a roadshow but continued working without treatment until he reached his camp office. Since then, they never skipped it.
Akansha carefully cooled the steaming water while Shaurya stood there, watching her.
His gaze lingered—not just on what she was doing, but how she was doing it.
She handled everything with quiet efficiency.
A hands-on mother.
Perfect.
But she hadn't always been like this.
Her mother had never bothered to teach her household chores. Even when Akansha showed interest, she was told to focus on earning—because that mattered more for the family. She was never given the space to learn these things.
After marriage, when his mother tried to corner her with expectations she couldn't meet, Shaurya had always stepped in.
Whenever his mother attempted to trouble her, he would quietly send Mrs. Sudha to help—without letting Akansha even realize it.
And now...
She stood in front of him, managing everything on her own.
Akansha got into the car with the water, only to find her daughter looking at her with half-open eyes. Relief washed over her—Siya was still drowsy.
"Mumma..." Siya whispered.
Akansha quickly settled in. Shaurya was about to step in, but she shook her head. If Siya saw him, she would get excited and lose whatever sleep she had left—and Akansha couldn't afford that. She pulled Siya close, hiding her face in her chest, then signaled Shaurya to get in quietly. He did.
At the same time, she distracted her daughter while mixing the cereal. "Why did my Siya wake up so early? Bhuki lagi hai? (Is my baby hungry?)" she asked, stirring the bowl while gently rocking her. Shaurya watched, wanting to help but not knowing how.
"Yech... bhuki, mumma," Siya murmured sleepily.
"I'm so sorry, baby... mumma is almost done.
.. one minute," Akansha said, checking the cereal.
It was ready, but she needed to test the temperature.
With Siya in her arms, she couldn't. She looked at Shaurya.
He didn't understand at first, then she gestured with the spoon and mouthed it.
Realizing, he leaned forward and opened his mouth instead of taking the spoon.
Akansha glared at him, but with no option, she fed him. He nodded—it was fine.
She fed Siya next. The moment it touched her tongue, Siya winced.
"Mumma... hot..."
"Sorry, sorry... have some water, Siyu..." Akansha said quickly, glaring at Shaurya. He looked completely lost. It wasn't really his fault—Siya couldn't tolerate even slightly warm food. Akansha realized that and calmed herself.
After feeding her properly and giving water, Akansha gave her medicines. Siya threw her usual tantrums. Shaurya instinctively moved forward, wanting to take her and help, but stopped himself—Akansha hadn't revealed his presence.
"Siyakriti... have it," Akansha said sternly.
That was enough. Siya immediately drank all her syrups—cold, cough, and fever—one after another. Akansha wiped her mouth and started rocking her again.
"Now sleep..."
"Mumma angly?" Siya asked softly.
"No, baby... mumma isn't angry," Akansha said, kissing her hair.
"I lub you, mumma."
A small smile appeared on Akansha's lips. "Mamabear loves babybear too," she whispered, covering her with her scarf and rocking her gently. Soon, Siya fell asleep.
Only then did Akansha realize Shaurya was there. She lifted her head to look at him. It must have been awkward for him—just sitting and watching all this. She had completely forgotten his presence, her focus entirely on her daughter.
But when she finally looked at him, she froze.
Because in his eyes, she saw everything at once—love, pain, anger... and an overwhelming, aching bliss.
"Watching you and our daughter like this feels heavenly... and the thought that I missed thousands of moments like this is killing me. Why, Akansha? Why did you do it?" Shaurya asked.
She had a lot to say. She wanted to scream, to throw every accusation at him for what he had done. But one look at his eyes—the pain in them—silenced her.
"We'll talk once we reach," Akansha said, trying to make Siya lie between them but struggling.
Shaurya helped her this time, and she didn't protest. He gently held his daughter's little palm, placing soft kisses on it, then on her tiny feet.
Akansha shut her eyes, trying to control the ache rising in her chest. Was I wrong?
Should I have confronted him back then? The questions began to spiral, and with the emotional exhaustion and mental strain, her migraine hit—hard.
She opened her handbag, searching for her medicines.
"What's that for?" Shaurya asked. She didn't respond. He frowned, worry creeping in. She was never someone who relied on medicines. Seeing her take one unsettled him. "Akansha... please tell me, what's that for?" he asked again.
When she didn't answer, he snatched the pill from her—infuriating her.
"None of your business, Mr. Shekhawat... give it back," she said coldly.
"Answer me first," he insisted.
"Migraine," she replied curtly.
"You developed migraine? When?" he asked, genuinely shocked. She never had issues like this before—not even after long hours of studying or working on screens. She didn't answer. Instead, she reached for another pill, but he snatched the entire strip this time.
"I asked—when?" he repeated.
She clenched her jaw. God, I should bang his head against the window.
"Postpartum complications," she whispered.
Silence.
He just stared at her, unable to process it. No words came out. She snatched the strip and the pill back and took her medicine while he sat there, lost in his thoughts.
His chest tightened painfully. He didn't know what she had gone through. She was alone... completely alone? Was there anyone to take care of her? His head began to pound with the weight of those thoughts. He wanted to ask—but he knew it was too soon.
"Should I massage your head? It might help ease the pain," he asked softly.
She shot him a glare but said nothing. Instead, she leaned her head against the window. Immediately, Shaurya took out a window cushion and fixed it in place. She sighed and leaned into it, too drained to argue anymore. He could see the pain increasing.
"I'm serious, Akansha... I can—"
"Stay within your limits," she snapped, cutting him off. "Don't you dare even think about touching me with your filthy hands. You have no idea how suffocating it is for me to even sit in this car with you beside me. For God's sake, leave me alone and let me be."
For a moment, he was stunned. The venom in her words hit deep—but he didn't react. He knew he deserved it. Maybe even more.
"Okay... I won't bother you. But please let me know if you need anything. I can call a doctor if the pain gets worse," he said quietly.
She closed her eyes. He thought it was irritation—but it was guilt creeping in. Damn him... this patience, this softness... it always got to her. No. She pushed the thought away. She couldn't let herself soften. He had destroyed her—destroyed her. She repeated it to herself like a shield.
"Hm," she murmured faintly, leaning against the cushion. Even then, her attention remained on Siya—adjusting her position, covering her properly every few minutes. Her daughter couldn't handle too much AC.
"I'll take care of Siya. You rest properly," Shaurya said, gently pulling Siya closer to himself so Akansha could sit comfortably.
Her head was throbbing badly. She didn't have the energy to refuse.
For now... she let him.
"She can’t handle too much cooling, so if the AC gets too cold, either switch it off or cover her with another shawl…
" Akansha instructed, but stopped mid-sentence on seeing his surprised expression. She immediately understood why. Yes… she has completely gone on you, Akansha thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
She simply shut her eyes and soon drifted into sleep.
Shaurya’s body too never tolerated AC or artificial cooling well.
He could withstand low temperatures easily, but something about artificial cooling always made him uncomfortable, even unwell.
Looks like his daughter had taken after him completely.
What must his wife be doing now? Compromising for their daughter…
or still the same? The thought pulled him, as always, into their past.
Shaurya stepped into the room, and the temperature difference hit him instantly.
His room was far colder than the rest of the house, despite the central air conditioning.
It had been five months since he had married Akansha Shaurya Singh Shekhawat, and this had been the routine every single day since then—yet he had never said a word.
He knew Akansha needed the AC; she simply couldn’t sleep without it.
He changed quickly and settled into bed, wrapping himself tightly in his blanket. A few minutes later, Akansha walked in from the balcony, sliding the glass doors shut behind her.
"You could have switched off the AC while you were in the balcony at least," Shaurya said, adjusting his blanket. He hated the cold air—unless she was in his arms.
"Why? The Shekhawats can’t afford the electricity bill?" Akansha shot back sassily.
This had become a routine since their marriage—or rather, since he had forced her into it.
Yet, he loved these sharp replies of hers.
At least she wasn’t silent. He wanted her to stay this way—talking, arguing, staying.
But slowly, one by one, everything had slipped away.
First the fights stopped, then the conversations… and then she disappeared.
"It’s not about the bill, it’s just that…" he began softly, but she cut him off.
"I know… you hate this. But I’m sure your thick blanket keeps you warm," she said casually.
"Hm… it does," he replied, turning away and closing his eyes.
She sighed. Another failed attempt.