Chapter 23 #4
A faint smile touched his lips. He knew exactly who had done it—and he also knew that somewhere, buried deep within her guarded heart, there was still space for him. Because if she had truly felt like a guest… she would have never bothered to set his room in order.
He pushed the thought aside quickly.
Shweta and Mr. Sharma were waiting for him—there were important matters to discuss. He had skipped work the previous day, and that made today even more crucial.
He cleaned his wound in a hurry, but in the process, some antiseptic spilled onto the floor.
His towel was hanging in the balcony.
Without thinking much, he grabbed it and dropped it over the spill.
Then he checked the time.
Late.
He changed quickly and rushed out of the room.
He was met by Shweta and Mr. Sharma near the staircase.
"I was just about to come downstairs. What’s so important that both of you are here an hour earlier than usual?" Shaurya asked, his voice calm yet carrying its usual authority.
"Sir, I needed to speak with you regarding the adjustments to your appointments according to your campaign schedule, and also—" Shweta began, but her words abruptly halted at the sound of a woman’s sharp voice echoing from behind.
Akansha stepped out of the washroom after finishing her morning routine. She was about to wake Siya when her eyes fell on Shaurya’s towel—supposed to be hanging neatly in the balcony—now lying crumpled on the floor, stained.
Her irritation flared instantly.
She picked it up and stormed out.
The moment she saw him—his back turned toward her—she threw the towel at him.
"Shaurya, your stupid habit of messing up the room when you're angry hasn’t changed at all, has it?" she snapped.
The towel hit his back.
A gasp escaped her the very next second.
He wasn’t alone. Shweta and Mr. Sharma were also present.
Both standing right there.
The towel she had just thrown lay at his feet.
Heat rushed to her face.
Shaurya’s ears turned red—his embarrassment unmistakable.
Shweta’s eyes widened. Mr. Sharma looked equally stunned.
Akansha froze for a moment, mortified.
She wasn’t his wife anymore.
But what she had just done…
That was something only a wife would do.
What have I done?
Without another word, she turned and rushed back to the room, cursing herself.
What must they be thinking?
Shweta—who had always supported her, who had once even suspected Shaurya of mistreating her…
What if she thinks he forced me into this?
The thought made her stomach twist.
It was absurd.
And yet… not impossible.
No one knew about their marriage.
She didn’t want anyone forming conclusions about her character.
For a fleeting second, she even cursed Shweta and Mr. Sharma for arriving so early.
She hadn’t expected them.
She had let her guard down.
And now she was paying for it.
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Shaurya quickly bent down and picked up the towel.
Before he could say anything, Mrs. Sudha appeared and took it from his hands—barely suppressing her laughter.
"Mrs. Sudha… please," Shaurya said under his breath, already knowing why she was amused.
He had this habit—when his mood turned sour, he would unconsciously leave things in disarray.
After Akansha left, he had forced himself to unlearn it. He didn’t like anyone entering his room or setting things right for him, and with his schedule, he had no time for chaos either.
But today…
Despite all that discipline—
One night, one conversation, one emotional storm—and the habit had returned.
And now, on top of that, his wife’s taunt.
Mrs. Sudha couldn’t help but laugh.
"Sorry, Shaurya," she said, still smiling as she walked away.
Shaurya exhaled, then turned toward Shweta and Mr. Sharma.
"That… was my wife," he said.
Shweta pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin.
Her usually composed boss—completely undone by his wife.
Mr. Sharma, however, didn’t look surprised. Instead, he seemed thoughtful.
"So she is Mrs. Shekhawat? Your wife? Glad to meet her, sir," he said.
Shaurya acknowledged him with a slight nod, though something about his tone felt off.
"You knew about sir’s marriage?" Shweta asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes," Mr. Sharma replied. "I saw it in the affidavit he submitted during his nomination."
That caught Shaurya’s attention instantly.
"Mr. Sharma… I trust you understand that this information is not meant for everyone," Shaurya said, his tone measured yet firm—an unmistakable warning not to mention the affidavit to anyone.
"I understand, sir. I’ll be careful," Mr. Sharma replied apologetically.
Shaurya nodded.
Without another word, the three of them moved downstairs to his office.
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After finishing the pending work, Shaurya returned to his room.
Siya was awake now—fresh and cheerful.
Akansha was combing her hair.
The moment Siya saw him, her face lit up.
"Sholya!" she exclaimed, jumping straight into his arms.
Akansha stiffened slightly at the sight.
"I missed you," Siya said, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.
"I missed you too, Siya," Shaurya smiled, holding her securely. "But how did you wake up so early, hm?"
Siya giggled, shrugging her shoulders cutely.
"Very good. Such a good girl," he said, making her beam with pride.
"Siya… we’re getting late. Come to Mumma, I need to braid your hair," Akansha called out.
It wasn’t easy for her to interrupt the moment—but she had to.
"Sholya will do it," Siya declared, tightening her grip on him.
"He doesn’t know how to do it, baby," Akansha said, trying to reason with her.
"It’s okay… let me try," Shaurya said, taking the small comb from Akansha.
He sat down on the bed, settling Siya in front of him.
With a mix of old practice and Akansha’s silent guidance, he managed to part and comb her hair properly.
But when it came to tying it…
He struggled.
Akansha rolled her eyes.
"You’re still the same," she said, taking the bands from him and neatly tying Siya’s pigtails.
"Yeah… I don’t know why I can’t get this right," Shaurya admitted. "Show me again?"
"Let it be, Shaurya. I’ve shown you countless times before—you never got it. This isn’t your thing," she replied.
He shot her a look.
Siya, meanwhile, ran to the mirror.
The moment she saw her reflection, her face lit up with pure joy.
She rushed back and threw herself into Akansha’s arms.
"Mama bear… they ale so pwetty," Siya said, kissing her mother’s cheek enthusiastically.
Shaurya watched quietly.
By now, he had figured something out.
His daughter loved showering her mother with kisses.
Just like him. And just like him…
She seemed especially fond of Akansha’s cheeks.
"Shaurya… what are you doing?" Akansha shrieked as she felt his hands cup her cheeks from behind.
"I love these softies… God, I so want to bite them," he murmured.
"Don’t even think about it. And go from here… let me concentrate on my books," she said, trying to refocus—but his lips trailed along her cheeks, breaking her concentration completely.
"Shaurya… let me study… you’re such a distraction," Akansha whined, attempting to push him away—but failing miserably.
"I’m a distraction? Really?" he teased. "Have you ever looked at yourself, woman? These milky cheeks… and those soft, plump, petal-like lips… they’re the real distraction. I could keep kissing them for eternity."
He pressed another lingering kiss to her cheek.
"Sha… Shaurya… please…" she stammered, her resistance crumbling the way it always did around him.
"You can study later… right now, let me devour my favorite dessert," he said, pulling her closer, his fingers gently pinching her cheeks as he continued to kiss them.
"Mama bear, you said Sholya doesn’t know how to make blaid (braid)? But chee (see), they ale so pwetty (they are so pretty)," Siya chirped, admiring her hair.
Her voice snapped Shaurya out of his reverie.
He looked at Akansha—only to be met with a sharp glare.
He didn’t need words.
He knew she had caught exactly what he had been thinking.
"Yeah, they are good. Say thank you to him," Akansha said.
"Thanku (thank you)," Siya said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss Shaurya’s cheek.
Though he was clean-shaven, his skin still felt rough compared to Akansha’s.
"Loph loph… (Rough… rough)," Siya complained, rubbing his cheeks and making a face.
Shaurya laughed.
"I’m already clean-shaven, baby… can’t do much about this rough skin," he said.
"Wait…" Siya said suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
Before either of them could stop her, she rushed to Akansha’s handbag and pulled out every cream she could find.
"Siya… what are you doing?" Akansha asked.
"Mama bear… making Sholya’s cheeks choft choft (soft soft)," Siya declared with full seriousness.
"That’s not needed, Siya," Shaurya said quickly, eyeing the products in horror. He glanced at Akansha for help.
"Siya bear, these won’t make his cheeks soft. These are all girl creams," Akansha tried to reason.
But Siya was as stubborn as her father.
No amount of convincing worked.
She insisted—pleaded—until Shaurya finally gave in.
Siya squeezed out cream after cream, carefully applying each one on his face. Toner, moisturizer, serum, sunscreen, foundation—everything layered one over the other.
At one point, she even dabbed foundation unevenly across his face, leaving visible patches.
She kept checking his cheeks after every application.
Still not satisfied.
"It’s still loph (rough)," she declared, disappointed.
"I told you… these are for girls," Akansha said.
Siya nodded thoughtfully, then looked back at Shaurya—and broke into a wide smile.
"Sholya, you look so pwetty… hai na mumma? (Shaurya, you look so pretty, right mumma?)"
Akansha nodded, struggling not to laugh.
He looked… ridiculous.
Siya beamed with pride at her work.
"Now go downstairs. I’ll feed you breakfast and then we’ll leave for home," Akansha said.
"Mama bear… can we stay hele (here)? Pwease (please)?" Siya asked.
"Not now, Siya. Mumma has work, and you have school too. Don’t worry—we’ll come here again soon," Akansha assured her.
That was enough.
Siya lit up and ran out excitedly.
"Don’t run—you’ll fall!" both Shaurya and Akansha called out, rushing behind her.
But seeing Mrs. Sudha already there with Siya, Akansha quickly pulled Shaurya back inside before anyone else could see him like that.
"Go clean yourself," she said.
"Hm," he hummed, walking to the mirror.
The moment he saw his reflection, his eyes widened.
He was about to walk out like this?
Akansha couldn’t hold back her laughter.
"Here… use this cleanser. It’ll help remove everything easily," she said, handing it to him.
He nodded and went to wash up.
When he returned, his face was clean—but slightly red, on the verge of irritation.
"Apply this, or you’ll get rashes," she said, picking a soothing cream from his collection.
He nodded again.
Being a public figure, he was constantly exposed to sun and stress, so he followed a basic skincare routine whenever he could—though those moments were rare.
"Jasmeet—Suraj’s reportee—will drop you and Siya home after breakfast," Shaurya said.
Akansha hesitated, her eyes shifting as she searched for the right words.
"Shaurya… I’m sorry. For what happened outside," she said finally. "I didn’t know your staff comes in so early. I saw the towel on the floor and lost my temper. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t have the right to treat you like that."
Her apology was sincere.
But every word…
Landed like a blow.
"You have every right, Akansha," he said quietly, stepping closer. "It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize."
"I have no right… not legally, emotionally, or morally," Akansha said, her voice steady but distant.
"There is no relationship between us, Shaurya. Whatever exists now is only because of Siya—and it will remain that way. I had no right to behave the way I just did. For a moment, my anguish, my pain, my hatred… they took over. But I’m back to my senses now. "
She held his gaze, her words turning sharper.
"I won’t trouble you again. But yes—if my daughter is ever hurt because of you… I will not spare you."
With that, she turned and walked away.
Shaurya stood there, unmoving.
Broken.
All the quiet peace he had felt just moments ago—watching his wife and daughter in his room—vanished, as if it had never existed.
Yes, he had felt embarrassed earlier.
But beneath that embarrassment…
There had been happiness.
A strange, bittersweet happiness.
If moments like that—small, fleeting, even embarrassing—meant having his wife and daughter near him…
He would choose them again and again.
He was ready for everything.
Every pain.
Every compromise.
Every fight.
But she wasn’t.
And that truth shattered him more than anything else.