Chapter 26
Shaurya was about to say something, but Akansha’s buzzing phone stopped him. It was Richa’s mother calling, and she immediately picked it up, hoping Siya wasn’t troubling them too much.
"Excuse me…" Akansha muttered, accepting the call and stepping aside.
But before she could walk away, Shaurya caught her wrist, stopping her.
She glared at him.
He immediately let go.
"Hello… yes aunty…" Akansha spoke into the phone.
"Hehe… aunty? Mamabear… it’s Siya bear," her daughter’s giggles echoed from the other side.
"Siya… Mumma is at work, baby. You shouldn’t disturb me. Anyway, tell me, why did you call?" Akansha asked softly.
The moment Shaurya heard Siya’s voice, his entire attention sharpened. He instinctively leaned closer, trying to listen to his daughter.
Akansha noticed it.
And despite everything, his antics felt ridiculously adorable to her.
For that one moment, he completely forgot he was the Chief Minister of a state. He looked nothing like the powerful man people feared and respected.
He just looked like a desperate father trying to hear his daughter’s voice.
Akansha sighed internally before switching the phone to speaker mode.
"Mama bear… chorry(sorry), but I want ichecream(ice cream), and nani is saying no…" Siya complained.
"And she is right. You just recovered. Do you want to fall sick again?" Akansha asked.
"No… but I want to eat ice cream again," Siya argued immediately.
Shaurya chuckled hearing her witty reply.
Akansha shot him a warning glare, signaling him to stay quiet.
He nodded obediently and literally placed a finger over his lips, making her eyes soften slightly.
"You already ate it in the morning?" Akansha asked, quickly catching the slip in her daughter’s words.
Siya instantly bit her tongue.
"I gave her some in the morning, Akansha… the one you prepared and kept in the freezer. But now she wants more," Richa’s mother explained.
"How much did you give her, aunty?" Akansha asked worriedly.
"Litttle… just 3 poons(spoons)," Siya answered before anyone else could.
"Siya…" Akansha warned, instantly silencing her daughter.
"She is telling the truth though. I gave her very little," Richa’s mother confirmed.
"Okay then, give her the same quantity again. Not one spoon more, aunty… please," Akansha said.
"Yayyy yayyy!" Siya’s loud excited screams echoed through the cabin, making Shaurya smile helplessly.
"Okay now, give the phone to nani(maternal grandmother)," Akansha said.
Richa’s mother immediately understood that Akansha wanted the speaker turned off and did so. Akansha also removed the call from speaker mode.
"Yes, Akansha?" Richa’s mother asked.
"Aunty, please finish the remaining ice cream afterward. Give some to uncle too… or shift it into another container and show Siya the empty box so she thinks it’s over," Akansha whispered.
Richa’s mother laughed softly and agreed before disconnecting the call.
"Why did you agree to her? You clearly wanted to refuse," Shaurya asked once the call ended.
Just hearing Siya’s voice had brightened his mood despite the emotionally draining conversation they had moments ago.
"Then she would drag a chair to the refrigerator and take it herself," Akansha replied tiredly. "Last time I locked the fridge, she started searching for the key. When she couldn’t find it, she tried opening it with her Barbie hairpin."
Shaurya stared at her in shock.
"Ji haan(yes)… your daughter is fully capable of doing that," Akansha continued. "Last time she fell off the chair while trying to steal ice cream and hurt herself. That’s why I sometimes give in to her demands while still limiting the quantity."
"H-Hurt herself?" Shaurya stammered immediately. "You should buy heavy furniture she can’t move on her own. Did she get badly hurt?"
The panic on his face was impossible to miss.
"Kids get hurt while growing up, Shaurya. That’s inevitable. Even if you stop one thing, they’ll find another way to hurt themselves. And no, it wasn’t serious… just a small scratch on her knee."
"SCRATCH?" Shaurya practically shouted, startling her.
"Stop it, Shaurya," Akansha said firmly. "You are a father now. Make your heart stronger. If your daughter gets hurt, you are supposed to give her strength, not the other way around."
For a second, Akansha could literally imagine him crying over Siya’s tiny injury while their mature little daughter comforted him instead.
"How many times did she get hurt till now… and I wasn’t there for her?" Shaurya whispered, his eyes filling with tears.
The vulnerability in his face almost broke her resolve.
Almost.
But then a painful memory flashed before her eyes—a time when Siya had suffered terribly, and no one had been there for them.
What if Akash hadn’t come that day?
What would have happened to her daughter?
The bitterness instantly returned.
"Send the signed files later. I need to leave," Akansha said abruptly before rushing out of his cabin.
Those memories were too overwhelming.
Only she knew how desperately she had wished for Shaurya’s presence beside them during those difficult days.
His absence had carved wounds inside her that never truly healed.
Shaurya stood there staring after her, confused and unsettled.
What had he said wrong?
Why had she suddenly left like that?
Did his words trigger some memory connected to Siya?
His mind immediately started searching for answers.
But he knew this wasn’t the right moment to question her.
She needed time.
Quickly finishing the remaining review, he signed the physical file and sent it to Akansha through his staff. He also digitally signed the soft copy she had mailed him.
The reason Shaurya refused her request to visit him the next day was because he had resumed campaigning. He wanted to return before the completion of two weeks, but until then, he hoped the distance would give Akansha some time to think calmly.
More than anything, he wanted her to tell Siya the truth as soon as possible.
He wanted to see his daughter’s reaction. He wanted to hear her call him Papa at least once. The wait was becoming unbearable for him.
Shaurya quickly wrapped up his 6:30 PM meeting and left for the Governor’s residence for the official dinner.
He shared an excellent relationship with the constitutional head of the state, Mr. Ananth Swaminathan—the seventy-year-old veteran politician serving as the Governor.
The old man deeply admired Shaurya’s dedication toward the state and the disciplined way he functioned within constitutional and judicial boundaries, which made the Governor’s role significantly easier.
Honestly, when Shaurya was first elected Chief Minister and Mr. Swaminathan was appointed Governor by the central government, he had expected trouble.
A lot of it.
To him, Shaurya initially looked like another inexperienced young politician from a confused generation—someone impulsive, emotional, and unprepared for governance.
Mr. Swaminathan had assumed Shaurya’s victory was largely a result of public frustration toward the previous ruling party rather than his own capability.
He had no interest in babysitting a young and overconfident Chief Minister.
But the moment they started working together, his assumptions shattered.
It did not take him long to understand that Shaurya was a rare gem—a man capable of permanently altering the political and power dynamics of the state.
He admired Shaurya’s zeal, his sharp foresight, his spontaneous yet effective decision-making during disasters, and above all, the controlled authority he carried despite his age.
Even seasoned political manipulators and veteran strategists often found themselves restrained in front of Shaurya’s commanding presence.
Mr. Swaminathan often referred to him as "Chanakya."
Shaurya’s political tactics fascinated him endlessly.
He genuinely enjoyed spending time with the young and dynamic leader.
The First Lady of the state, Mrs. Padma Swaminathan, held similar admiration for Shaurya.
However, unlike her husband—who maintained a strictly professional demeanor despite his genuine fondness—she openly expressed her affection and warmth toward him while still respecting the constitutional boundaries expected of them.
Shaurya, too, respected the elderly couple immensely.
Mr. Swaminathan had guided him several times through his wisdom and decades of experience. But the Governor never advised him directly. His words were always layered, carefully encrypted beneath casual conversations and subtle remarks.
He never crossed constitutional boundaries openly.
Instead, he ensured Shaurya found the answers himself.
And Shaurya always did.
Even Mrs. Swaminathan often failed to understand her husband’s hidden meanings when he deliberately chose to make them difficult to decipher. But Shaurya somehow always succeeded in grasping the message behind those seemingly ordinary words.
Both men secretly enjoyed this silent game.
That way, neither crossed the fine line separating the constitutional head of the state from its executive head.
Despite his relative lack of experience, Shaurya possessed extraordinary command over governance, administration, finance, and crisis management.
More often than not, Mr. Swaminathan implemented Shaurya’s suggestions without hesitation—not merely because Shaurya was the de facto leader of the state, but because he trusted his judgment.
That did not mean they always agreed.
There had been several occasions where both men locked horns fiercely, refusing to bend from their respective positions. The opposition, and even some opportunists within Shaurya’s own party, had repeatedly tried to exploit those clashes to weaken him.
But the strong value systems both men carried ensured every such attempt failed.
Their relationship strangely resembled the bond Shaurya shared with Dev.
They were not always on the same side.
But their intentions were always the same—