Chapter 70 #3
The narrative didn't change overnight.
But for the first time, people stopped calling him arrogant.
They started calling him stubbornly honest.
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Two weeks later, Shaurya attended a small women's cooperative meeting in a semi-urban district.
No press invitations.
No orchestrated publicity.
He expected confrontation about corruption or internal chaos.
Instead, an older woman stood first.
"Earlier... we were angry with you," she said plainly. "Because of how you treated your wife."
The room stiffened.
Shaurya didn't react defensively.
"But when you stood against powerful leaders," she continued, "we saw courage."
Another woman added, "Our husbands say you're foolish. But maybe... you're trying to change something."
Then a young college student stood hesitantly.
"Sir... if you lose after doing the right thing... then no leader will ever try again."
That line stayed with him long after the meeting ended.
A short clip of the discussion surfaced online.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't staged.
Just honest conversation about courage, second chances, and reform.
Akansha reposted it with the caption:
'This is what happens when you run a state with honesty and truth.'
Shaurya had made her promise not to campaign directly — but supporting him like this was her compromise.
He wanted to protect her from the filth that politics threw at families.
She understood that. But she also knew he had been absorbing backlash partly because of controversies involving her.
Women voters had felt antagonized when fragments of their past surfaced publicly.
They would never know the sacrifices he made behind the scenes to protect her dignity, her life — or the emotional cost her own mistakes had once inflicted on his sister.
There was no point expecting them to understand the full context. But there was a point in easing their anger. And what better way than standing beside him — not defensively, but visibly.
Women's groups began discussing him again — not as a perfect leader, but as someone willing to take risks others avoided.
Media panels noticed.
The debate shifted from:
"Is he destroying his party?"
to:
"Is he redefining leadership?"
The storm wasn't over.
Protests continued.
Senior leaders attacked.
The opposition mocked.
But something subtle had changed.
The conversation had shifted from certainty of his downfall... to uncertainty about his future.
And in politics, uncertainty is the first sign that a narrative is beginning to crack.
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Shaurya came back home after a long day.
These days, his schedule was filled with constant travel — from visiting constituencies to inspecting government offices — to make sure the problems within his party did not affect the state or its governance.
A few leaders whom he had denied tickets were also cabinet ministers, and when they left the party, it did not create chaos on the streets, but there was a quiet disruption in the way the state machinery functioned as well.
Shaurya had been prepared with replacements, and honestly, he had never handed over important portfolios to people he did not trust. That decision saved him from many problems. Still, the MLAs who left did hold certain portfolios, and it was crucial for Shaurya to find capable replacements.
Fortunately, he did have a competent team ready to step in, and things began to stabilize again.
But Shaurya did not want the chaos of those few weeks to overshadow the good governance he and his government had delivered over the past five years. So he pushed himself harder, working relentlessly to secure everything in place, and people were not blind to his dedication.
There were blind supporters of the corrupt leaders, and they were everywhere, but Shaurya's goal was to minimize their numbers and, consequently, their impact on how the state was run. To say he was succeeding would still be too early, but there were signs everywhere that he eventually would.
"Freshen up and have dinner," Akansha told him, walking toward the living room where Shaurya had collapsed after his long day.
"I'll eat first and then freshen up. I have no energy left," Shaurya said, and Akansha's brows knit in surprise; she had never heard him say that before.
She immediately rushed to him and checked his forehead, but he was fine.
"I'm fine, Akansha. I don't have any fever, jaan — just tired.
I had to visit four districts today. My chopper had some issues, so I had to wait there without any food till it was repaired.
I didn't want to sit idle, so I visited a few more government offices, including the district collector's office, and let's just say I didn't like what I saw.
I had to take strict measures to set things right.
It got late by the time I wrapped everything up and reached home," Shaurya said.
Akansha sat beside him holding his palm, rubbing it gently.
Days like this reminded him that exhaustion was no longer just political — it came with the constant weight of surviving another day in the middle of threats that never truly faded.
Shaurya had received advice from the National Security Advisor himself to remain cautious and avoid consuming food from sources he did not trust. There were serious plots in the making to eliminate him because of his leadership of Operation C Minus, and because of that, Shaurya avoided eating outside.
Shaurya's security had entered a new league.
Threats from Operation C Minus — long-standing and orchestrated by anti-national elements — were still active, now layered over the fresh political turmoil sparked by the ticket denials.
Foreign-backed actors were using the unrest as cover, blending into crowds and preparing to strike in ways that would make the attack appear like a result of political anger rather than the operation itself.
Based on assessments by the Intelligence Bureau and recommendations from the National Security Advisor, his security had been upgraded to Z+ protection from Z Category.
Centrally deployed commandos formed an inner cordon around him, routes were changed unpredictably, and convoys moved in tight bulletproof formations.
The protection was no longer limited to the state; it had been extended to the national level to ensure that Shaurya remained secure wherever he traveled.
Even routine constituency visits — offices, town halls, and local administrative inspections — required advance teams to sanitize buildings, seal corridors, and station armed personnel.
Political outreach, governance inspections, and personal engagement now moved hand in hand with a constant, multi-layered national security operation.
And he was now irked by these arrangements.
He had been stalled earlier because of his chopper's repair, but he knew the delay had actually been caused by Suraj's extra-cautious approach to his security — ensuring that routes were clear and travel arrangements were rechecked.
Suraj and his team knew very well that Shaurya would be irritated if told the truth, so he had been informed about the chopper repair instead.
Not wanting to waste time, Shaurya had decided to head to the district collectorate, but Suraj insisted on conducting checks before allowing him to proceed.
By then, Shaurya was clearly irritated by the reduction in productivity caused by these delays, so he proceeded anyway, and Suraj followed along with the newly appointed CRPF teams responsible for his security.
"Okay, I'll get you something to eat. Stay seated here," Akansha said, rising from her chair as she realized that food needed to come before anything else.
"That's okay. I can walk till the dining table," he joked while standing up, but Akansha glared at him, which made him sit back down immediately.
She brought the food and handed the plate to him. He looked exhausted; it was evident even from the way he picked up the spoon.
"Leave it. You look like a sick child, Shaurya, reluctant to even push the spoon to your mouth," she said, taking the plate from him and feeding him.
He gave a bright smile before eating from her hand, making her shake her head at his childish antics.
"Just remember that you're a father to a five-year-old," she taunted before feeding him again.
He continued eating with the same grin, but suddenly it disappeared when he remembered that he needed to tell her something.
"I'm staying home tomorrow. I'll work from home for a day," Shaurya said, though not enthusiastically.
"You'll work from home at this peak time? But as far as I know, your schedule is packed with visits across the state," she said.
"Yeah. I'm staying home not because I want to, but because Suraj wants me to," Shaurya said, sounding exactly like a student complaining to a teacher about a fellow classmate.
"Really? What did Suraj do?" Akansha asked, amused by his behavior.
"According to Suraj, every place I visit is unsafe for me, and I just have to sit at home with him and tens of commandos guarding the house," Shaurya said, and Akansha nodded in understanding.
He hated seeing national security personnel guarding unworthy politicians who were secretly harming the very country these officers sacrificed their lives for.
But Shaurya was not an unworthy politician; he was a visionary, and protecting him was a national duty — something that was visible in the way those officers carried out their responsibilities.
There was a certain pride, sincerity, and dedication in how they performed their duty toward Shaurya.
Akansha had tried to explain this to him many times, and Shaurya understood it himself. What he truly hated these days was the reduction in productivity caused by the security restrictions.