⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
She sat rigidly at the edge of her plush velvet chair, her hands clenched on her lap, eyes occasionally flicking around to observe the neatly dressed diners and impeccably polite waiters.
Tara sat beside her, bouncing lightly on her seat, her little fingers playing with the shiny spoon in front of her.
Across the table, Vidyut watched them silently.
His coat was off, sleeves folded neatly at his elbows.
The harshness he once carried in his gaze had softened in the glow of candlelight.
A part of him admired the way Ritvika looked under the ambient light — too simple for this place, yet too radiant to belong anywhere else.
Just then—
"Biiiiiiig maaaaan!" Tara's voice rose with glee as she banged the spoon on the table. "Ileam! Ileam!"
Her curls bounced with each word, and her voice was full of excitement.
Vidyut chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "We'll get you ileam after dinner, okay kiddo?"
Tara gave him an exaggerated nod, clapping her hands once before loudly declaring, "Patha bhi!"
(And paratha too!)
Ritvika's eyes widened as heads turned from nearby tables, and she quickly reached out to calm Tara, whispering, "Slowly, baby..."
Vidyut signaled the waiter, and as the man approached, he glanced at Ritvika. "Order whatever you want."
She looked up, startled. "Me?"
Vidyut raised an eyebrow, resting his forearms on the table. "Yes, you. You're hungry too, aren't you?"
She hesitated. Her voice came out quieter than intended, "I... I don't know what to order."
There was no fancy English menu in her hands — yet the weight of self-consciousness pressed down hard. She hadn't eaten outside in a place like this before. Her palms were slightly sweaty, and she lowered her eyes.
Vidyut noticed it all.
He spoke again, his voice low and calm, "There's paratha, paneer, dal makhani... Just say what you like."
Her eyes met his. "You order, please..."
Vidyut didn't push further. He turned to the waiter and said, "Get two butter parathas, paneer, dal makhani, and jeera rice. And chocolate ice cream for the little one."
"And Some simple dish which doesn't contain much oil"
Tara squealed in delight hearing "ice cream", not knowing it was the same "ileam" she'd asked for.
As the waiter left, Ritvika murmured softly, "Thank you..."
Vidyut leaned back, watching her as she adjusted Tara's bib and helped her settle down. "You don't have to feel small, Ritvika," he said out of nowhere, his voice thoughtful. "This place, this decor... none of it matters."
Ritvika looked up at him, unsure what to say, but the warmth in his tone made her heart flutter — unfamiliar, hesitant, but real.
The food arrived with a flourish — hot, aromatic, and perfectly plated. The waiter carefully placed each dish, and Tara immediately leaned forward on her knees, eyes wide at the sight of the butter paratha.
“Paaatha!” she gasped, clapping her hands, her spoon nearly flying out of her tiny grip.
“Big man! Big man, look! Pathaaa!”
Vidyut gave a slight smirk. “Yes, I see. Your royal dinner has arrived.”
Tara giggled, bouncing in her chair.
Ritvika helped tear the paratha into tiny bits for her and cooled a spoonful of paneer gravy, blowing gently before feeding Tara. The little girl gave a dramatic “Mmmmmmm!” after the first bite, making a few heads from nearby tables smile in amusement.
“More!” Tara insisted, mouth already open again.
Ritvika laughed under her breath, slowly feeding her another piece. But she was conscious of her surroundings — the spotless white napkins, the golden cutlery, the poised people... She kept her eyes down, speaking little.
Vidyut noticed.
He picked up his spoon, took a bite, and said casually, “You know… she’s enjoying more than both of us combined.”
Ritvika blinked and gave a shy nod. “She’s never had food like this…”
“She deserves it,” Vidyut said without looking up.
Ritvika’s hand froze for a second. Then she quickly returned to feeding Tara.
As the meal went on, Tara made a tiny mess — a streak of gravy on her cheek, rice on the table, her bib halfway around her shoulder. But she was happy. Blissfully happy.
When the ice cream arrived, she gasped so loud the table next to them chuckled.
“ILEAAAM!” she shrieked. “Big man! You shhee? Ileam! My ileam!!”
Vidyut raised a brow. “Calm down. It won’t fly away.”
Tara began digging in with her fingers despite the spoon right next to her bowl. Ritvika instinctively reached out to stop her, but Vidyut placed a tissue in her hand instead and said, “Let her. She’s two. She’s allowed to be wild.”
That single line made Ritvika pause. Then… she smiled.
Not a forced one. A small, surprised smile.
She wiped Tara’s cheek as gently as she could and whispered, “Slowly, baby. Or it’ll go in your nose.”
Tara giggled, smearing chocolate ice cream across her chin.
Vidyut watched both of them for a moment — the gentle rhythm of Ritvika’s care, the fearless joy in Tara’s eyes — and something inside him twisted. Not painfully. Just… unfamiliar.
He looked away.
“Finish up,” he muttered. “We’ll leave in ten.”
Ritvika gave a soft nod.
But in that quiet, expensive corner of the city — surrounded by chandeliers and silence — something louder was growing.
Something neither of them had asked for.
The night air was gentle, filled with the faint sound of crickets and the distant hum of the city.
Back home after the unexpected dinner, Tara had finally fallen asleep, curled up peacefully between her two favorite soft toys.
Ritvika stood by the large window of their room, her arms folded, a soft smile playing on her lips. She wasn't used to all of this—being taken out to dinner, being looked at like she mattered, even if only silently. It still felt foreign.
The rustle of the bedroom door pulled her back.
Vidyut stepped inside, undoing the cuffs of his shirt. His coat lay draped on the armchair, his sleeves now rolled halfway as he walked toward the table, picking up the water bottle.
Ritvika cleared her throat softly.
"Umm... thanks for today," she said, hesitant but genuine. "I mean, the dinner and... everything."
Vidyut raised a brow as he poured water into a glass.
"You thank people for feeding you?" he asked, voice cool, almost amused.
She blinked, caught off guard.
"I... I just thought it was polite—"
He turned, leaning against the table, arms crossed now, the faintest smirk on his lips.
"Then I should thank you every day for surviving on two bites of roti and spoonfuls of dal."
She huffed under her breath, cheeks warming in embarrassment. "I ate just fine—"
"Exactly," he interrupted smoothly, walking past her toward the cupboard, brushing slightly close.
"That's why you don't need to thank me. Just eat. And stop looking like you owe me something."
Ritvika turned her face slightly, trying to hide her sudden blush.
She wasn't sure what to say—he confused her, always teetering between concern and sarcasm.
Vidyut paused by the door, glancing at her over his shoulder.
"Good night, Mrs. Rajvansh."
And then with the same slow, effortless stride, he left the room.
She let out a soft breath, fingers unconsciously clutching the ends of her dupatta.
Why was it getting harder to not feel something around him?
?? ?
The morning sun crept lazily into the room, its warm rays sliding through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the plush bed.
Ritvika blinked awake first, her body curled slightly toward the tiny warm figure beside her. A soft smile played on her lips as she spotted Tara nestled between her and Vidyut, her mouth slightly open, soft baby snores puffing out, and her tiny fingers still fisted into Ritvika's kurta.
But then—
Her smile faltered.
Something felt... off.
Wet, actually.
She slowly sat up, peeling the blanket back with a frown.
"What the—" she whispered, staring at the clear damp patch beneath the child.
With a quiet sigh, she gently brushed Tara's hair back.
"Taru? Baby?" she whispered, careful not to disturb Vidyut yet.
"Tara, did you—wet the bed?"
Tara stirred with a groggy grunt, nose scrunched and eyes blinking open. Her face wore a puzzled look at first, then contemplative... then—
With the theatrical flair of a full-blown TV drama queen, she gasped, her tiny mouth forming a shocked 'O'. She sat up straight and looked at the bed in horror.
And then came the betrayal.
"BIG MAAAN NE TIYAAA!!"
(The big man did it!!) she screamed, dramatically.
Ritvika froze.
"...what?"
Still half-asleep, Tara lifted her chubby hand and pointed right at Vidyut with scandalized fury, as if she had just uncovered a national secret.
"Biiiig maaaan! Big man ne tiya bed! Mumma, big man neeeee!"
(The big man! The big man peed on the bed! Mummy, the big man did it!)
Ritvika bit her lip hard, trying not to laugh. Her eyes shifted to Vidyut—sleeping peacefully and completely unaware of the scandal forming around him.
She leaned down toward Tara.
"Tara... you wet the bed. That's not good, sweetheart."
"Naahiii!" Tara gasped dramatically, eyes widening.
(Noooo!)
She clutched the blanket, deeply offended now.
"Main no dooo! Big man peeped! Dekhooo!"
(I didn't do it! The big man peed! Look!)
She bent down and inspected the wet patch with extreme seriousness, then looked up with a firm nod as if confirming her theory.
Ritvika couldn't take it anymore. A laugh burst from her lips, and though she tried to keep it low, the bed trembled slightly.
Vidyut groaned.
"Why is the bed shaking? What's happening...?"
Tara seized her moment like a lioness.
She crawled right over to him, climbed onto his chest, and smacked his shoulder with her tiny palm.
"BIG MAAAN!! You do susu vely bad!"
(Big man! You peed very bad!)
Vidyut's eyes snapped open, blinking in confusion.
"...What?"
"Susuuuuu tiya, big man! Aapne you baby!"
(You did pee, big man! You're the baby!)
He sat up slowly, looking between the two of them. "Wait. She thinks I—?!"
"She's blaming you for wetting the bed," Ritvika managed between giggles.
Vidyut turned to look at Tara, who was now giving him a full-on judging stare, arms folded like an angry landlord.
He took a breath.
"Tara," he said in his gravelly morning voice, "I did not pee the bed."
Tara tilted her head in sass.
"Toh kishne tiya? I do no do."
(Then who did it? I didn't do it.)
"It has to be you."
"Main toh baby hoon!" she snapped back with raised eyebrows.
(But I'm a baby!)
Vidyut raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you're a baby. Not me. So, it's you who did it, obviously."
Ritvika lost it. A loud snort escaped her as she quickly covered her mouth. Vidyut shot her a death glare.
"Stop. Laughing."
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but—she's roasting you at 7 AM!"
Tara climbed back into Ritvika's lap, her pout deepening.
With exaggerated drama, she wiped an imaginary tear with the back of her hand.
"Big man... shame shame... hawww..."
Vidyut flopped back on the pillow with a groan.
"I swear to God, she's ruining my reputation before it even began."
"She's two," Ritvika whispered, shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Exactly. And already plotting against me."
Tara peeked from over Ritvika's shoulder and stuck out her tongue.
"Baaad big maaaan!"
Vidyut peeked through his fingers.
"You little monster."
Tara puffed out her chest and pointed at herself.
"I no monster! I Tara."
(I'm not a monster! I'm Tara!)
Vidyut grinned slightly, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
"Haan haan, meri drama queen, meri pyaari chhoti detective."
(Yes yes, my drama queen, my little detective.)
Ritvika wrapped her arms around Tara, laughing.
"Okay okay, Miss Queen. Let's go clean you up."
Tara glanced back at the wet patch on the bed and made a disgusted face.
Vidyut groaned again as he sat up.
"I need bleach. And therapy. Lots of therapy."
The laughter of the morning slowly died down, and while Tara was happily busy destroying the toothpaste tube in the bathroom, Vidyut leaned against the doorframe, watching Ritvika wipe down the bed with quiet focus.
"Ritvika, get ready. We have to leave in an hour, it's your first day, remember?" his voice was casual but held that underlying command only Vidyut Rajvansh could deliver with such ease.
She paused for a second, the cloth in her hand stilling mid-wipe.
Her first day.
Reality settled on her shoulders with an unexpected weight.
"Yeah... okay," she nodded slowly, brushing her hair behind her ear, trying to suppress the nervous flutter building in her stomach.
Once Tara was taken care of and off to play with her stuffed duck, Ritvika opened the wardrobe Vidyut had cleared out for her the other day.
Her brows knitted together.
Sarees, salwars, some everyday kurtas... nothing remotely formal.
Her throat tightened. She hesitated for a second, then—still in her soft voice—turned to Vidyut who was adjusting his cufflinks near the mirror.
"Vidyut...?" she called, almost nervously.
He looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Hmm?"
She glanced down, unsure how to phrase it. "I—I don't have anything formal to wear. What should I... wear today?"
Vidyut turned slightly, taking a look at her awkward stance, her fingers fidgeting with the wardrobe handle.
For a second, she looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor.
"It's okay, wear anything," he shrugged, buttoning the last of his sleeves.
"But... I mean... I don't have office wear. Formal." she clarified quietly.
Her voice sounded... embarrassed. Like she expected judgment.
Her eyes didn't meet his. And he could see the thoughts in her head.
He's going to regret this... he's going to think I'm not prepared...
Vidyut stepped toward her and leaned against the wall near the wardrobe. His eyes weren't cold—they were calm.
"It's not compulsory to wear formals, Ritvika. You can wear traditional if you want, you'll still look more presentable than half the people there."
She looked up, surprised. "Really?"
"I don't hire clothes. I hire brains. And I already know yours works better than most."
That one line hit her harder than she expected. Her eyes softened, lips parting slightly as she tried to hold back a smile.
He smirked. "Bas saree pehen lena ya kurta. Jitna simple, utna perfect."
(Just wear a saree or a kurta. The simpler, the better.)
She nodded slowly, a little relief blooming in her chest.
"Thank you..."
"Don't thank me yet. There's office politics, passive-aggressive stares, people who won't like that I gave you a role without experience—"
Her smile fell again.
He leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
"—but none of them peed on my bed and blamed me for it. So you're already winning."
She chuckled, hitting him lightly on the arm.
Just then—
From the Washroom, Tara's voice rang out like a trumpet.
"BIG MAAAANNNN! Duck fell in toilet!"
Vidyut closed his eyes with a sigh. "Aur ek aur emergency..."
(And another emergency...)
Ritvika giggled, brushing his shirt collar affectionately. "You go handle it, big man. I'll pick a saree."
He gave her one long look—soft, unspoken—but his lips curved.
"Good. And Ritvika?" he added before walking out.
She turned. "Hmm?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're not just part of the house anymore. Today, you start owning your place in my world too."
And with that, he disappeared down the hall—already muttering something about ducks and cursed mornings.
?? ?
The black SUV halted at the private driveway of Rajvansh Empire. A building that scraped the sky and screamed money, power, and control.
Vidyut stepped out first, his expression unreadable, as always. Dressed sharply in a tailored navy suit, he looked every inch the intimidating CEO.
Except today — there was a tiny yellow butterfly in his arms.
Tara, in her little frock, clutched him tightly, eyes sparkling as she looked around at the glass, steel, and noise.
"Big man... this place is shhhoooo shiny!" she gasped. "Like caltoons."
Vidyut raised a brow. "Cartoons live in here, alright. In suits."
Behind him, Ritvika stepped out, adjusting the pallu of her elegant pastel saree. Her heart was pounding.
Today was her first day at work. At his office.
And although Vidyut hadn't said much in the car, the weight of everything pressed down on her — the giant building, the fact that she was walking into a corporate empire as a complete outsider, and that she had no idea what people expected from the wife of Vidyut Rajvansh.
What if I make a mistake? What if they laugh at me? I don't even have formal clothes—
Her steps faltered slightly.
"Ritvika," his low voice called back to her. "You're not here to audition. You're already in. Walk straight."
She met his eyes for a moment. It grounded her.
With Tara cuddled on his arm, they entered the main glass doors.
Immediately, murmurs rippled through the reception.
People stood. Eyes widened.
Not because their CEO had arrived — that was routine.
But because their CEO — infamous for never being seen with anyone except his boardroom enemies — had just walked in...
With a toddler in his arms.
And a woman walking gracefully behind him.
Ritvika.
The office hadn't seen her face yet. Everyone knew Mr. Rajvansh was married — the media had covered the private wedding months ago — but no photos had been released.
This was the first time.
And it was not just his wife... but his wife and daughter?
Whispers started flying before the elevator even reached the top floor.
"Is that his wife?"
"She's so young..."
"She's beautiful... but he has a child?"
"I thought they didn't have a kid yet—"
"Wait, when did this happen?!"
Tara, meanwhile, had taken her job as center of attention quite seriously.
"Hi hii hiiii..." she waved at passing employees as they walked through the office.
"Why they no happy?
Vidyut smirked slightly.
"No, they're just shocked you exist."
Tara tilted her head sassily. "I'm real. See? I bite."
She made a fake biting sound and then laughed loudly.
People froze in their spots.
Vidyut didn't explain. He didn't offer a single word.
He simply walked to his cabin — employees parting like the Red Sea — Ritvika trailing behind, her steps small but confident, though her palms were sweating from all the stares.
As he stopped at the cabin door, he looked back at her.
"You'll be sitting inside with me. The cabin beside mine is being prepared. For now, just breathe. And if anyone dares say anything—"
He looked at Tara.
"—she bites."
Tara nodded proudly. "I bite!"
With that, Vidyut pushed the door open and stepped into his kingdom.
And behind him, Ritvika Rajvansh, the woman no one knew but everyone now feared — because if she held his hand, she held more power than any of them ever could.
Inside the cabin, everything felt like it belonged to a man who hated chaos. Sharp lines. Polished wood. Black-and-white minimalism. Not even a fingerprint on the glass table.
Ritvika stepped in behind Vidyut, her breath catching at the sheer magnificence of the space. It wasn't just luxurious — it was intimidating. Dominating.
Vidyut didn't wait for her to catch up. He walked ahead and gently placed Tara on the cream couch near the window. The toddler looked around with fascination, her little fingers clutching a teddy that hadn't been there the night before.
Vidyut had remembered to keep something for her.
"Stay here, don't disturb Mama," he said curtly, brushing a hand over Tara's head.
Tara gave a serious nod, her curls bouncing. "Okay"
Without another word, Vidyut turned to the cabin door and pressed the intercom.
"Boardroom. Two minutes."
Within moments, a small group of the senior-most employees walked in — Vidyut's core team. His assistant Meher, the finance head, legal advisor, and two others. All well-dressed, confident, and used to high-stakes work.
But as they stepped in and saw Tara sitting comfortably, their professionalism faltered. And then—Ritvika.
The whispers had already begun in the corridors: "He's married?" "That's his wife?" "There's a child?"
Vidyut didn't care.
He stood by his desk, voice cold and direct.
"This is Ritvika Rajvansh. She'll be joining the company as the Deputy Director of Internal Affairs. From today."
A soft gasp echoed.
Deputy Director?
So high? On her first day?
Meher's eyes flicked to Ritvika and then back to Vidyut, her jaw tightening behind a fake smile.
Vidyut continued, unfazed.
"She will report directly to me. Any operational bottlenecks, HR conflicts, or inter-departmental issues will go through her. Is that understood?"
There were nods — slow, reluctant, uneasy.
Ritvika pressed her palms together gently. "Hello"
Her voice was polite, her tone soft. But her presence? It was unsettling for some.
Especially Meher, who'd worked alongside Vidyut for years and had never seen him let anyone — anyone — this close.
And now a woman with no corporate background, no familiar name, suddenly walked in as Deputy Director?
"It's understood, sir," someone said. Another forced smile. Another masked stare.
Vidyut gave a single nod. "You may leave."
They exited, the air thick with jealousy, confusion, and curiosity.
Vidyut didn't react to either of them.
He had already opened a file and begun working.
But before she could overthink, he spoke — still not looking up.
"You don't need to prove anything here. You're not here because of charity. You're here because I decided so."
Ritvika blinked. That cold assurance, it startled her. And maybe... comforted her too.
"Thank you," she said gently.
His pen didn't pause. "Don't waste time on gratitude. Just show up and do your job."
The door clicked softly behind Vidyut as he left the cabin.
Ritvika stood by his desk, flipping through a few documents he'd handed her — files marked Confidential, Pending HR Review, Inter-departmental Conflict Resolution. It was all new to her, but she tried to stay focused, scanning each line with narrowed eyes.
Meanwhile, on the plush white couch, Tara had found a black-and-white panda teddy, twice her size.
"Paaandaa!" she giggled, clapping her hands. "Look, Mama! He's fat like a bread roll!"
Ritvika smiled, not even trying to correct her metaphor.
But in her excitement, Tara stood up on the couch and tried to drag the panda closer to the glass coffee table. Her tiny hands lost grip and—crash.
A glass paperweight rolled to the floor, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. A few papers slipped from the desk with the wind of her motion, scattering around the cabin.
Ritvika's eyes widened. "Tara! Be careful, baby!"
"Sowwie..." Tara said with a pout, looking at the mess like it had hurt her feelings more than the floor.
Just then—click.
The cabin door opened again.
Meher.
She walked in with practiced grace, holding a slim file in her hands and eyes trained on Ritvika. Her gaze slowly swept the cabin — from the mess on the floor to the panda, to Tara's nervous little face... and finally landing on Ritvika's flustered one.
Her voice, calm but coated in steel.
"Oh. I wasn't aware the cabin was being used as a crèche today."
Ritvika's spine straightened.
Before she could say anything, Meher bent slightly and picked up a paper from near the couch, her manicured fingers holding it like it was something unclean.
"This one was scheduled for board signatures. Hope it wasn't stepped on."
She placed it pointedly on the desk — exactly where Vidyut usually sat.
Tara quickly hugged the panda tight and whispered, "Mama... I made trouble..."
Ritvika knelt beside her, brushing her hair back. "No, you didn't. You were just playing, baby. It's okay."
Meher didn't miss the interaction. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"I just came to drop this file Vidyut sir needed. But take your time... Ritvika ma'am."
The "ma'am" was clearly not out of respect — it was out of habit. And maybe mockery.
"It must be difficult adjusting to this environment so... suddenly."
Ritvika met her eyes. Calm. Polite.
"It's new, yes. But I'm learning fast."
Meher raised a brow, unconvinced.
"Of course. After all, not everyone walks in on their first day and becomes Deputy Director."
She turned to leave, her heels clicking against the floor like punctuation marks on an unspoken warning.
"I'll let the housekeeping know about the mess. We wouldn't want the boss seeing this when he returns."
With that, she was gone.
The silence settled like a fog.
Tara looked up at Ritvika with big, worried eyes.
The soft sound of the door unlocking made Ritvika straighten in her seat.
Vidyut stepped in.
Dark grey shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show veins flexing slightly, the cold breeze of his presence replacing the stale air Meher had left behind.
He paused just inside, eyes flicking over the room with casual precision — Tara sitting quietly with the panda, Ritvika focused too hard on a simple file.
He said nothing, yet Ritvika's fingers fumbled the page she was flipping.
He walked across, shrugged off his coat, and placed it neatly on the stand. Then, he moved to his seat across from her.
A quiet moment passed.
He didn't start working.
He just sat.
Elbows resting lazily on the armrest, one leg crossed, gaze fixed — not at his laptop, not at a file...
At her.
Ritvika.
She could feel it — the weight of his eyes. They weren't cold this time. They were slow. Curious. Drawn in.
She dared to glance up.
And there he was, eyes trained right on her face, but not like a husband admiring his wife — more like a man discovering a new version of her. Tracing the curve of her cheek, the soft curl of hair near her ear, the slight flush creeping up her neck.
"Why are you staring?" she finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned slightly forward.
"I didn't say I was."
His voice was smooth. Deep. Dangerous.
Ritvika blinked, heart thudding for no good reason. She looked away, focusing on the file. Her cheeks now absolutely betraying her with that warm pink glow.
Concentrate. You're here to work. You're not sixteen. He's just... him.
She tried to jot something down, but the tip of her pen hovered mid-air.
"That's not where the total goes," Vidyut murmured, voice softer now, eyes still on her.
She looked again. Of course. The number was wrong.
"I... I'll fix it," she mumbled.
"Take your time."
It wasn't sarcastic.
It was something else. Something that made her heart stumble all over again.
On the couch, Tara rolled over sleepily and muttered something about a cookie, but Ritvika barely registered it.
Vidyut opened his file finally, typing a few things. But every few minutes, she could still feel his gaze flick back to her.
As if he couldn't help himself.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.
He watched that too.
And smirked.
Just a little.
Not enough for her to catch it.
But it was there.
━━━━━━?? ━━━━━━
Next Chapter will be out on Thursday