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The Choudhury mansion was buzzing with excitement today - because I, the heavily pregnant goddess, had finally won the battle of mood swings and declared we were all going OUT to a restaurant. Yes, restaurant. Not the garden, not the kitchen, not the balcony. Outside civilization.
I waddled down the stairs in my flowy, ridiculously cute maternity frock like a queen arriving at her coronation.
"Move aside peasants," I muttered dramatically, holding my belly like it was the Holy Grail.
Nine months pregnant and waddling like a penguin on a mission - don't judge me.
As I reached the ground floor, I saw my little army assembled.
Dattatriya was holding Nirmay in one arm, who looked dashing in a tiny three-piece suit.
Bhairava bhaiya and Arya bhabhi stood ready, with Jayash in her arms, his hair slicked back and shoes lighting up with every stomp.
Dyan bhaiya was fixing Swarna bhabhi's dupatta while holding a gummy-chewing Vardha on his hip.
Gyan bhaiya looked borderline terrifying in a leather jacket, and Adya bhabhi matched him like a queen, holding Karna who had a tooth in his hand-probably not his.
Utsav stood near the door looking like an Indian drama hero, sunglasses on indoors.
"Wow," I said, hands on my hips.
"Look at my mafia parade."
"And look at our waddling empress," Utsav grinned.
"Say one more word and I'll name the baby after a vegetable," I glared.
Everyone laughed.
"Papa's not coming?" I asked, looking around.
"No," Bhairava bhaiya said.
"He said 'If I go, someone will die. I can't promise manners if anyone stares at my daughter.'"
"Typical Papa," I smiled fondly.
"Where's Athira and Garud?"
"Exams, di," Adya bhabhi said.
"Garud also broke his phone trying to cook noodles, so he's grounded by Pooja aunty."
"How do you even break a phone with noodles?" I blinked.
"Agnivanshi talent," Utsav shrugged.
We all finally walked out. Our convoy looked like a royal family out for dinner. All we needed was background music and paparazzi.
But then-
"Wait... Sheraa?" I turned.
He stood at the door, his golden eyes wide, tail flicking.
"You can't come today, baby, it's a restaurant," I said gently, bending down to kiss his forehead.
Sheraa let out a sad huff, resting his head on the doormat like the most dramatic exile victim.
"I swear he's judging me," I sighed.
"He is," Dattatriya muttered.
"I feel like I've betrayed my own soul," I clutched my belly.
"This is why I have mood swings."
Everyone laughed again as we settled into the cars. The babies strapped in, bhabhis settled, bhaiyas smug, and me...well, hungry.
As we pulled out of the gates, I looked up at the sky and whispered,
"Dear baby, hold on till dessert. Mama needs cheesecake."
And we drove off into the night - a mafia family on a mission: to eat like royalty.
We finally reached the restaurant - a beautiful, softly lit place that looked way too classy for a group of mafia lords, their queens, and a waddling nine-months-pregnant lady determined to eat cheesecake.
As we walked in, the hostess's jaw almost dropped seeing the intensity we carried.
Dattatriya led the way with Nirmay in his arms, looking like an emperor on a dinner date.
Bhairava bhaiya and Arya bhabhi walked behind with Jayash yawning on her shoulder.
Gyan bhaiya and Swarna bhabhi held Vardha, who tried to lick the glass door, while Dyan bhaiya and Adya bhabhi carried Karna like a grumpy potato.
Utsav walked beside me like a proud little brother escorting his waddling goddess.
"Do you think they'll have ten types of dessert?" I whispered to Utsav.
"If they don't, we'll burn it down," he winked.
"Fair enough," I smirked, cradling my bump.
We sat down, and the waiters came running like their lives depended on it - which, to be honest, wasn't entirely wrong.
Waiter: "Ma'am, would you like to see the menu?"
Me: "No. I want cheesecake. And then I'll look at the menu."
Waiter: "...Yes, ma'am."
Suddenly, Arya bhabhi chuckled, "You really used pregnancy as a weapon today."
"It's not a weapon, bhabhi," I said proudly. "It's a superpower."
Everyone laughed, and just as we started relaxing and placing orders, it happened.
We walked out after dinner, full and glowing (me especially, glowing from dessert and hormones), only to be swarmed by the press.
Cameras. Mics. Chaos.
REPORTER 1: "Mrs. Agnivanshi! Is it true you blew up the Opposition Party's headquarters?"
REPORTER 2: "Is this your first child with Mr. Agnivanshi?"
REPORTER 3: "What do you have to say about the rising power of the Choudhury-Agnivanshi alliance?"
REPORTER 4: "Is the baby a boy or girl?! Do you already know??"
I was about to answer with a sarcastic "It's a snow leopard," when suddenly one of the clumsy reporters stumbled over a camera wire and lunged forward - right in my direction.
Everything froze.
I clutched my belly, panicking.
But in a flash - Dattatriya, Bhairava bhaiya, Dyan bhaiya, and Gyan bhaiya moved like shadows, slamming the man aside with enough force to make him crash into the security barricade. Sheraa would've been proud.
Dattatriya stood in front of me, breathing hard. His eyes blazed, his jaw clenched.
Then, he exploded.
"MOVE AWAY!" he bellowed, voice echoing like thunder.
Everyone - press, camera crew, even passing dogs - froze.
We all flinched.
Even the babies in our arms blinked wide-eyed.
"My wife is nine months pregnant. You think you can throw yourself at her and walk away?" he growled.
The entire press took a terrified step back.
Bhairava bhaiya, Dyan bhaiya, and Gyan bhaiya formed a semi-circle around me while Utsav took Nirmay protectively. The bhabhis looked like they were ready to throw their heels like missiles.
I sighed and touched Dattatriya's arm gently.
"It's okay," I whispered. "We're safe."
He turned to me, still breathing heavy, and gently took my face in his hands.
"You're not leaving the house again until the baby's out."
"Not even for cheesecake?" I whispered.
He blinked.
"Fine. Cheesecake only. But with security. And a tank."
I giggled softly as he escorted me to the car like a precious crown jewel, and the press dared not even blink the wrong way now.
Honestly, mafia husbands can be scary - but they're also the safest place in the world.
I sat on the sofa, one hand caressing my baby bump, the other resting on Sheraa's giant furry head, who was sprawled across the floor like a dramatic rug. The TV played in the background as the news flashed across every channel.
?? brEAKING NEWS: CHOUDHURY-AGNIVANSHI FAMILY CREATES STORM AT ELITE RESTAURANT
"Security chaos unfolded at 'The Royale' last night when the combined Choudhury-Agnivanshi family visited for dinner. Known for their power and influence in both politics and business, the presence of Dattatriya Agnivanshi and Bhairava Choudhury sent ripples through the city."
"A minor scuffle broke out with a member of the press, leading to a full blackout order by the Agnivanshi security team. The restaurant staff say 'it was like a presidential convoy invaded us... but with babies.'"
Social media users comment:
· "They came in like mafia Avengers."
· "Is it just me or does Dattatriya look hotter when angry?"
· "Gyan bhaiya lifted a guy by the collar. My ovaries exploded."
I chuckled softly until-
?? brEAKING: WHO IS THE CHILD WITH THE AGNIVANSHIS? A HIDDEN ILLEGITIMATE HEIR OR STREET BABY?
"Sources claim the child seen with Dattatriya and the heavily pregnant Katha Agnivanshi last night is neither adopted nor born into the family legally."
"Some say the boy was picked from the streets in Rajasthan. Others claim he is the result of an affair. The Agnivanshis and Choudhurys have yet to comment."
Comment section exploding:
· "Whose child is this really?"
· "That boy doesn't look like anyone in the family."
· "They probably faked a pregnancy to hide the truth."
· "Poor baby, used for image-building."
My heart dropped. My lips trembled. I felt my chest tighten.
"That's my son. My baby. My sunshine."
I stared at the screen, at the cruel words that questioned Nirmay, questioned me, questioned us. My hands shook.
Tears spilled before I could stop them.
"DATTATRIYAAA!!" I yelled, my voice cracked, choked by the storm in my throat.
Within seconds, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Dattatriya rushed in, eyes wide with worry, still barefoot, his shirt half-buttoned.
"Sunshine?! What happened?!" he asked, dropping to his knees in front of me, cupping my face.
I pointed at the TV with trembling fingers, sobbing.
"They... they're saying Nirmay is illegitimate... or picked from the streets... they... they called my son an image tactic," I cried out.
He turned slowly toward the screen.
Then I saw it - the dangerous transformation in his eyes. The fury of a mafia king, the dead silence before a storm.
He stood up. "Give me five minutes," he said coldly.
"No," I grabbed his arm. "Not yet. Just... just sit with me first... I need you... Dattu, it's not just the hormones. They insulted our baby."
His features softened as he sat beside me, pulling me into his lap. I curled against his chest, still crying softly.
He whispered, voice low and steady, "It's okay, Katha. They'll pay for this. I promise you. No one... no one talks about our son like that and walks away."
He kissed my forehead and placed a hand on my belly.
"You hear that?" he whispered to the bump. "Your brother's name is Nirmay. He's ours. And no one will dare question that again. Ever."
I looked at him, wiping my tears.
"Do whatever you want to the media."
"Already done," he said with a chilling calm.
And I knew in that moment - hell was coming for every soul that dared speak against our son.
His name is Nirmay Dattatriya Katha Agnivanshi.
His father his Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
And his mother is Katha Choudhury Agnivanshi.
God help them all.
Choudhury Mansion - Afternoon
The aftermath of the news storm didn't last long - not when your husband is Dattatriya Agnivanshi, ruler of the Italian mafia and the most terrifying force of nature when it comes to protecting his family.
Within six hours, the press firm that dared to question Nirmay's existence had gone completely silent.
Their website? Gone.
Socials? Wiped.
CEO? Publicly "apologized" with two front teeth missing.
Entire PR team? Disappeared to "take an indefinite sabbatical."
And the journalist who wrote the original article? Well, let's just say they won't be writing ever again.
Even Bhairava Bhaiya looked impressed and muttered, "He's my competition now."
?
Right now...
I was sitting on the massive living room floor, my legs folded, baby bump prominently out, with Sheraa sitting like a royal snow leopard beside me... wearing a pink bow on his head.
I blinked once.
Then again.
And then...
"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
Dattatriya, who had just entered the room with Nirmay perched on his shoulders, froze.
"Sunshine?!" he panicked. "What happened?! Is it the baby?! The back pain?! Are you hungry?!"
I pointed to Sheraa dramatically as tears streamed down my cheeks.
"He looks... sooooo cuteeeeeeeeeee in that pink bow!!! I CAN'T HANDLE IT!!" I wailed.
"He's soooo fluffy I just wanna-sniff-explode from love!!!"
Dattatriya blinked.
Nirmay giggled from his shoulders.
Sheraa looked up and huffed in confusion.
"Sunshine... are you crying because he's cute?" Dattu asked cautiously.
"YES!!! AND NO!! I DON'T KNOW!!!" I sobbed louder.
"HE'S CUTE BUT ALSO WHY IS THE BOW SLIGHTLY TILTED I WANT TO FIX IT BUT I CAN'T BEND PROPERLY BECAUSE THIS BABY INSIDE ME IS SITTING ON MY BLADDER!!!"
Dattatriya slowly lowered Nirmay down and walked over, kneeling beside me like a bomb technician approaching a live explosive.
"Okay. Okay. Deep breaths."
"Let's fix the bow first, alright?"
He gently adjusted the pink bow on Sheraa's head.
"Better?"
I hiccupped. "Yes..."
Then paused.
"BUT WHY DID YOU MAKE IT STRAIGHT?! HE WAS CUTE WITH IT TILTED!!!"
I shoved his shoulder and wailed again.
Dattatriya looked at the ceiling for strength.
"Alright, tilting it again... Sheraa, don't growl at me, your mother's emotions are unstable today."
Nirmay crawled into my lap, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Mama, why you crying again?"
I sniffed.
"Because Sheraa is cutie and your papa made his bow straight and then I missed the crooked one but now I want donuts also and-"
"Oh no," Dattatriya whispered.
"She entered the 'donut sobbing spiral' again. Call Arya. Code glazed."
?
Meanwhile, Sheraa sat dramatically beside me, now proudly showing off his re-tilted pink bow, unaware that I had started crying again because I wanted a baby elephant now.
Mood swings?
More like mood rollercoasters with loops, fireworks, and the occasional crocodile tears.
And my poor husband?
Just buckling in for the ride.
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