Chapter 64 #3
"I need at least six to seven hours of sleep to function properly.
And you can't waste time with me here — your work is waiting.
So get back to it. And yes, four hours of sleep is a must, Shaurya.
That means you have only two hours to finish everything," she said.
He groaned but knew better than to ignore her sleep mandate.
Only one option remained: speed up his work.
She left for their room while he returned to his desk, determined to make the most of the short night ahead.
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The next morning, when Shaurya informed Siya about getting a puppy, all his fake stories to scare her came back to haunt him. Siya peppered him with questions about every imaginary problem he had created around the puppy.
Initially, he had wanted to bring the puppy home as a surprise, but he remembered his daughter wanted to bring it home herself — so he had to tell her.
"And Dadda, did you forget about the tigers the neighbors have?" Siya asked, firing another question at him.
"Yes, Dadda... Say say," Akansha chimed in, clearly enjoying the grilling session by their daughter.
Our neighbor is definitely not Abhyansh Singh Ranawat to pet a tiger or a lion, Shaurya thought, but he couldn't say it out loud.
If he did, Siya would have asked a thousand questions about Abhyansh Singh Ranawat, and he didn't have the time or energy to narrate The Royal BEAST to his little one just yet.
He remembered his wife's taunts to Dev for narrating a crime thriller to his little boy; he couldn't afford the same fate — at least not for now.
"I requested them to send their pet tiger to the zoo so that we can have a doggie, and they were so nice, they agreed," Shaurya said.
Siya jumped in happiness. "Yayyy, Dadda! We will have a doggie now, just like bua... Mama bear, thank you! I love you!" She hugged her father and mother, showering them with kisses.
The morning passed blissfully, but they had to leave for their workplaces. Cutting short their family time, they reluctantly ended the conversation and set off for the day.
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"All the evidence is in place, Sir. We can move ahead," the State CBI Director informed Shaurya.
"Go ahead—but make sure he never walks out in this lifetime," Shaurya said, his voice steady.
"With the evidence we have, we can keep him behind bars for the next seven births," the Director replied confidently, earning a brief nod of approval from Shaurya.
"Good. Execute it within the next three days. Choose the most unpredictable time. The house arrests of all probable loyalists of Mr. Shekhawat should happen simultaneously—no chance to escape or assist one another. Exactly thirty minutes later, proceed with the main arrest," Shaurya instructed.
After a few more minutes of discussion, the Director took his leave. Moments later, Shweta walked in.
"Sir... Mrs. Savita from the CR Committee is here," she informed him.
Shaurya remembered calling Mrs. Savita to discuss her sudden resignation.
"How much time do I have before my next meeting?" he asked.
"Ten minutes, Sir," Shweta replied. "I can ask her to wait if you want."
"No, that's fine. Send her in," he said.
Mrs. Savita was a CR Committee member and a remarkably capable professional reporting to Mrs. Arora.
She was also a close friend of his wife.
Her decision to resign had genuinely surprised him—it was not an opportunity one walked away from lightly.
There had to be a reason, and he wanted to understand it.
Once she settled into her seat, Shaurya gently asked her about her decision.
Initially, she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, clearly uncomfortable sharing the real reason.
But his calm presence, his patience, and the quiet empathy he extended—despite being the Chief Minister with an unforgiving schedule—eventually made her open up.
What she shared unsettled him.
Her husband had been unwell for some time and needed constant care. She had tried—truly tried—not to let her personal life interfere with her work. She didn't overexert herself, nor did she slack off. She managed quietly, responsibly. Until one small mistake.
Despite being aware of her situation, Mrs. Arora had reprimanded her harshly, and publicly.
The humiliation stayed with her. Worse, it didn't end there.
The sharpness, the dismissiveness, the lack of basic sensitivity continued—slowly eroding her patience.
Between the emotional strain at home and the growing hostility at work, she felt drained.
Taking a break seemed like the only way she could breathe again.
As she spoke, Shaurya saw something painfully familiar.
Mrs. Savita was a soft woman—emotionally open, sincere, and deeply affected by harshness. Just like his sister, Aakriti.
Soft-hearted people, he knew, weren't weak.
They simply felt more. They didn't know how to shield themselves from cruelty; they absorbed it instead.
Handling them required patience, not authority.
Understanding, not dismissal. When treated right, they were the least demanding, the least problematic—yet when hurt, the damage ran deep.
The parallel tightened his chest.
He decided to speak to Mrs. Arora before drawing conclusions. He had known her for years and believed she didn't act without reason. Still, intent did not excuse impact—and he needed to hear her side.
"According to policy, you have one week to withdraw your resignation," Shaurya said gently. "Use this time. See if things improve. Give it a chance. If they don't, I won't stop you from leaving, Mrs. Savita."
Mrs. Savita nodded, visibly relieved. She thanked him—not just for his time, but for listening, for trying to understand rather than dismissing her pain. Shaurya only shook his head slightly, a restrained smile on his lips.
After she left, Shaurya moved on to his next meeting. During a brief five-minute gap, he called Shweta and asked her to inform the CR Committee that he wished to speak with them that evening.
When Shweta relayed the message, Akansha mentally groaned. She had hoped to leave early and spend time with Siya—especially since she had finished her work ahead of schedule. But Shaurya had intervened again. She knew it would run late; it almost always did with him now.
That evening, Shaurya walked into the CR Committee office around 7 p.m., and Akansha exhaled in quiet relief. That wasn't too late.
He stood casually at the center of the room, leaning against a desk that—coincidentally—belonged to his wife, while the staff gathered around him, waiting for what he had to say.
He greeted them casually, and after his usual introductory words—meant to ease the room into a comfortable space—he moved straight to the issue.
"First of all, I'm sorry that I haven't been able to interact with you much these days," Shaurya said. "My schedule has been hectic. So tell me—how are things going? All good? Any challenges meeting deadlines, or any other concerns?"
Everyone responded with a collective no, their reactions relaxed, almost rehearsed.
"Well, if you're hesitant to speak in front of your bosses, I can ask them to step out," Shaurya joked lightly. But there was a thread of seriousness beneath it, one Akansha caught immediately. His brief glance toward Mrs. Arora confirmed it.
"No, sir. There are no problems. Everything is running smoothly," Kishor, a CR Committee member, said. "In fact, since we entered Phase Three, the work has become more exciting."
"Good to hear that," Shaurya nodded. "What about work pressure? Is it manageable? If it's getting overwhelming, do let your reporting heads know. They're mature, understanding, and supportive... right, Mrs. Arora?"
"Yes, sir, of course," Mrs. Arora replied smoothly. "We are strict and tolerate no mistakes when it comes to work, but otherwise, we are supportive and understanding."
She knew Mrs. Savita had been called to the Chief Minister's office. She also knew this visit wasn't coincidental.
"Well," Shaurya said, his tone still casual, "I'll have to disagree with you there, Mrs. Arora.
Our colleagues need support and understanding mostly in matters of work.
They don't expect us to solve their personal lives—but a little empathy while they manage their situations goes a long way.
Everyone needs that, irrespective of their position. "
He paused briefly.
"I needed it too, when I had to take a break during my hospitalization. My colleagues kept the show running. I remain grateful for that."
The words sounded appreciative, almost conversational. But Mrs. Arora, Akansha, and Mrs. Savita heard what lay beneath them.
Mrs. Savita felt a quiet surge of gratitude—he hadn't named her, yet he had spoken for her.
Mrs. Arora remained silent. Her expression made it clear she wasn't convinced.
Shaurya ended the interaction with the staff and requested the core committee to join him in the closed cabin.
The eight-member committee—including Akansha—assembled. Shaurya wasted no time.
"I've heard Mrs. Savita's side," he said calmly. "Now I'd like to hear yours, Mrs. Arora. What exactly happened?"
Mrs. Arora narrated the incident, repeating—almost verbatim—what she had said to Mrs. Savita that day, in front of everyone. She spoke of incompetence, declining performance, and made no attempt to soften the words she had used.
"Don't you think that was harsh—and unfair?" Shaurya asked.
The room froze. No one had expected him to address her so directly.
"It was," Mrs. Arora replied without hesitation.
"But the world isn't fair, sir. As the developmental head, this project is far bigger than focusing on one employee's personal situation.
You know how important this project is—the impact it will have on future generations.
Compared to that, everything else takes a back seat. "
She continued, unfazed.
"If Mrs. Savita couldn't stop her personal life from affecting her work, it's better she isn't part of the team. And if she can't handle a little rudeness, how will she survive in the real world?"
Shaurya inhaled deeply.
Akansha noticed it. The tension in his jaw. The restraint. Mrs. Arora's words had struck something personal, and he was clearly fighting the urge to let emotion take over professionalism.
"You're absolutely right about the importance of this project," Shaurya said evenly. "So let's go by your logic."
He leaned forward slightly.
"For the CR Committee, we hired no extra staff—precisely to safeguard information until the project goes live.
Every member was appointed based on exact requirements.
Now, if Mrs. Savita leaves, her work will be redistributed among existing members.
Correct? Since hiring isn't an option at this stage. "
Mrs. Arora nodded.
"Every person here already has a full workload," Shaurya continued. "If you add more, have you considered burnout? What we're doing requires clarity, precision, and deep thinking. Overburdening the team can lead to errors. And errors here don't just affect reports—they affect outcomes."
His gaze sharpened.
"So tell me—what were you thinking when you approved her resignation?"
Mrs. Arora had no answer.
"I appreciate your dedication," Shaurya said. "This project does shape the future—of this state, and possibly the country's education system. That is exactly why you need to be careful about these 'small' things. The nation is watching us with hope. We cannot afford to fail."
He paused, then added quietly—but firmly—
"And I disagree with your statement that 'the world is unfair' and 'how will she survive.' The entire world is not unfair. And why should we prepare someone for cruelty by being cruel to them?"
His voice hardened slightly.
"She will figure out how to survive. It is not our job to say, 'The world is bad, so let me be bad too—at least she'll get used to it.' Instead, be the reason someone believes the world isn't entirely unfair."
He exhaled.
"My words may sound like a lecture—but I mean them. Create better workplace conditions, Mrs. Arora. I'm not happy with how this was handled."
That was the harshest criticism he had ever given her—except once, long ago, when she had reprimanded Akansha for being late.
Shaurya walked out without another word.
He was unsettled. The entire episode weighed on him. He only hoped Mrs. Arora would reflect and course-correct. To her credit, she usually took feedback seriously—and acted on it. He hoped she would this time too.
Mrs. Arora picked up her bag and left for the day without a word.
The rest of them remained seated, stunned.
"Woah," Mr. Khan finally said. "I've never seen the CM upset with Mrs. Arora."
No—he didn't break the ice. He sliced it.
"Well, I agree with the CM," Mr. Khanna said. "It's not like kindness is taxed. Mrs. Arora could have handled this differently. She chose to reprimand Savita publicly—despite knowing about her husband's condition."
"But managing this project isn't easy," Samuel countered. "Somya can't afford to be soft with everyone. She has to be strict to get results."
"There's a difference between being strict and being rude," Mr. Khanna said. "Yes, she has a lot on her plate. But Shaurya sir carries far greater responsibilities and far more pressure, and I've never seen him lash out at people or be rude to anyone."
He paused briefly before adding, "And it's not just him. There are many people like that. In the end, it comes down to intent—how you choose to treat people."
With that, he walked away, calling it a day.