Chosen Love

💌CHAPTER-58

The morning of Ruhaan's first birthday arrived with the crisp, biting chill of a Delhi January, but inside the Kapoor mansion, the atmosphere was radiant with warmth.

The soft winter light filtered through the curtains as Shivansh and Ruhika sat on the edge of the bed surrounding their boy on either side.

their shoulders touching as they watched their son stir. The room was already a cinematic dream; Aarav, the professional camera crew, hired to document the milestone, stood silently in the corners, his lenses focused on the small, snoring miracle in the centre of the bed

As Ruhaan finally rubbed his eyes and let out a soft, sleepy whimper, Ruhika was there in an instant. She scooped him up, her heart nearly bursting as he blinked at the room.

His tiny mouth fell open in a silent awe of wonder. The amber fairy lights and the canopy of balloons floating above him seemed to captivate his developing mind. He reached out with a chubby hand, patting a stray balloon with a giggle that was the perfect end to his first year.

She kept the door slightly ajar, creating a sliver of anticipation. When she finally pushed it open, Ruhaan let out a piercing, joyous squeal that echoed through the hallway.

The entire family had created a "guard of honor" made of his favorite soft toys. Every teddy bear, velvet lion, and stuffed elephant was wearing a tiny, jaunty birthday cap, with a single helium balloon tied to their paws.

To a one-year-old, it was a kingdom. He lunged from Ruhika's arms, his wobbly steps taking him straight into the middle of his plush friends, his hands flapping in excitement as he tried to hug three toys at once.

The morning continued with the sacred hush of tradition. Since it was a January birthday, the air was brisk, and Ruhika dressed him in a miniature, butter-yellow chikankari kurta with a tiny protective jacket.

Shivansh and Ruhika matched him in elegant traditional attire, looking every bit the power couple they were, softened by the grace of parenthood.

They walked together to the home mandir, the scent of fresh marigolds and sandalwood filling the space. In the flickering light of the diyas, Ruhika guided Ruhaan's small hand to hold the silver lota. Together, the three of them offered jal to the Shivling.

Shivansh's large hand covered both of theirs, his eyes closed in a prayer so deep it was visible in the tension of his jaw. They weren't praying for wealth or power; they were offering a silent, monumental "thank you" for the biggest blessing of their lives.

With the household on a declared holiday, the afternoon settled into a rare, peaceful lull. While Ruhaan was being thoroughly spoiled by Sunita, Vikram, and an uncharacteristically soft-eyed Aarav in the garden, Shivansh led Ruhika back to their room

He didn't reach for a jewelry box this time.

Instead, he handed her a hand-bound leather book.

As she opened it, she realized it was a curated collection of his own thoughts—short, daily notes he had written to her over the past year, detailing every time he had seen her strength, her fire, and her grace.

"I know the world sees the baby and the party today," Shivansh rasped, pulling her into the circle of his arms and resting his forehead against hers.

"But don't think for a single moment that I've forgotten what it took for you to bring him here.

The months of sickness, the pain, the way you balanced your dreams while building our home.

.. you are the reason of everything good in my life, Ruhi. "

Ruhika's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the man who had become her unwavering shield.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the jawline that now so often softened just for her.

"And you, Ansh... you're the reason I never felt alone in it.

You're not just my husband, my best half but undoubtedly the best Papa he could have ever asked for. "

While Shivansh's gift was a soul-stirring map of his heart, Ruhika had spent months preparing a tribute that spoke to the man he had become—the "Titan" who had finally learned the beauty of staying still.

She led him to the small alcove in their room where a large frame sat draped in soft velvet.

"You're always the one documenting us, Ansh," she whispered, her hand lingering on the fabric.

"I wanted you to see what I see every single day."

She pulled the cloth away to reveal a breathtaking, hyper-realistic charcoal and oil commission.

It wasn't a professional family portrait, but a candid, intimate scene captured from a Tuesday evening months ago, Shivansh, still in his formal waistcoat and trousers, was lying flat on his back on the rug, with a six-month-old Ruhaan perched precariously on his chest.

Shivansh's head was thrown back in a rare, uninhibited laugh, his large hand gently stabilizing the baby's tiny frame

Shivansh stood frozen, his gaze locked onto the canvas. He reached out, his thumb grazing the painted version of Ruhaan's small hand resting against his heart.

For a man who usually dealt in cold, hard facts, the sheer vulnerability of the image was overwhelming. He didn't speak for a long moment, but the way his grip tightened on Ruhika's waist told her everything she needed to know.

"Ruhi..." he finally rasped, turning her in his arms to pull her into a fierce, crushing embrace. "This is... I've never seen myself like this."

Shivansh leaned in, his kiss slow, deep, and thick with a year's worth of unspoken gratitude. It wasn't the kiss of a businessman or a CEO, it was a soulful, romantic claim of a man who knew his greatest achievement was the woman in his arms and the boy laughing in the garden below.

They stood there for a long time, tangled together in the quiet January light, two parents rediscovering each other in the beautiful, lingering echo of their son's first year.

______________

The quiet sanctity of the morning dissolved into the high-energy chaos of preparing for the grand evening bash.

The room, usually a place of of soft lullabies, became the staging ground for what Ruhika jokingly called the "Clash of the Titans."

Dressing a one-year-old for his first black-tie event was a feat that required speed and patience combined

Shivansh sat on the edge of the velvet rug, while Ruhika approached with the tiny, bespoke velvet tuxedo they got for him

"Okay, Ruhaan, be a good boy for Mamma," Ruhika cooed, holding up a miniature white dress shirt that looked impossibly small.

Ruhaan, however, had other plans. Sensing the importance of the moment, he decided to exercise his newfound independence.

The second the shirt touched his arms, he let out a dramatic, indignant squeal and performed a "log roll" across the carpet, giggling wildly as he escaped Ruhika's reach.

The tantrum was short-lived but intense. Ruhaan arched his back, his face turning a rosy pink as he protested the indignity of a bow tie. He let out a few high-pitched shrieks of frustration, his tiny fists drumming against Shivansh's sturdy chest.

But then, Ruhika leaned in, making a series of ridiculous clicking noises and "booping" his nose with a velvet-covered button.

Ruhaan froze, his big dark eyes blinking through the remnants of his fake tears.

Slowly, his lips curled back to reveal his four brand-new, pearly white teeth.

It was a radiant, toothy smile that lit up the entire room, turning his momentary rage into a fit of bubbly giggles.

He reached up, grabbing Ruhika's nose and letting out a triumphant "Ma-ma! "

"You are a little troublemaker"Ruhika whispered, her heart melting as she finally slipped the tiny jacket onto his shoulders, today he looked like a mini version of his father who was dressed in a suit, wearing Ruhika's favourite deep blue shirt and hair neatly set.

The final result was breathtaking. Ruhaan stood propped up between them, complete with a tiny silk bow tie and polished shoes.

Shivansh stood up, adjusting the baby's collar with a precision that was uncharacteristically tender.

Then, after the most important task of the day was taken care of, Ruhika went to the closet

She was draped in a custom-designed, midnight-blue silk gown She spent a long moment at the vanity, darkening her eyes and painting her lips a defiant shade of mauve brown her heart fluttering with a nervous excitement that felt like their first date all over over again.

When she finally pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, the room fell into a sudden, vacuum-like silence. Shivansh was standing by the window, holding a freshly dressed Ruhaan on his hip.

At the sound of her heels on the marble, he turned, and for a second, he was stuck

His gaze traveled slowly, possessively, from the hem of her gown up to the radiant flush on her cheeks.

"Ruhi," he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration.

He didn't move immediately; instead, he looked down at the baby in his arms, who was staring at his mother with wide-eyed wonder. "You see her, Ruhaan?"

Shivansh murmured, his eyes never leaving Ruhika. "That's your Mamma. But remember... before she was yours, she is mine. That's my wife. The most beautiful woman in any room I'll ever enter."

Ruhaan let out an appreciative, bubbly shriek, reaching his tiny hands out toward the shimmering silk. Ruhika walked toward them, her smile soft and shimmering with a deep, romantic heat.

"You're biased, Mr. Kapoor," she whispered, stepping into his space.

It was a kiss that promised the night wouldn't just be about the party for their son ; it was equally about the two of them

"You look like a queen, Meri Jaan," he rasped, pulling back just enough to look into her shimmering eyes.

"And you," she replied, reaching up to straighten his lapel, her fingers trembling slightly with love, "look like the man who owns my entire heart.

"

_____________________

The grand ballroom of the Kapoor mansion had been transformed into a wonderland, balloons, animal figures and everything a child could dream of

The air was a blend of expensive perfumes, the sweet scent of lilies, and the rhythmic clinking of crystal flutes.

It was a gathering of Delhi's elite—business associates in sharp silhouettes, Ruhika's high achieving colleagues from her firm, and the innermost circle of family and friends who had witnessed their journey

Shivansh and Ruhika moved through the crowd with the synchronized grace of a true power couple.

Shivansh, the stoic Auditor, navigated conversations with industrial magnates, though his eyes constantly tracked the velvet-clad toddler currently being passed around like a precious heirloom.

Rohan and Isha were there, their laughter adding to the warmth of the evening.

In a particularly heartwarming corner of the room, Ruhaan was perched on the carpet, engaged with Ahaana and someone he had a lot of fun around, they children babbled in a secret language, Ruhaan curiously patting her dress while she offered him a stray balloon string, a glimpse into the next generation of a lifelong friendship.

Aarav, despite the shadow still lingering in the depths of his eyes, still tried to be the life of the party for his nephew. He stayed close to the baby, shielding him from the overwhelming attention of the guests, his protective "Chachu" instincts serving as a silent barrier.

The highlight of the evening was the cake cutting.

masterpiece in shades of cream and gold sat at the center of the room. As the lights dimmed and the guests gathered, the family stood together. Sunita and Vikram along with Ruhika's parents stood beside the couple, their faces radiant with a legacy fulfilled.

Ruhaan, perched on the mahogany table in front of the cake, observed the hundreds of glowing faces with a quiet, wide-eyed curiosity.

He didn't cry at the loud chorus of "Happy Birthday"; instead, he looked up at Shivansh, then at Ruhika, as if checking for their approval.

Seeing their wide, encouraging smiles, he let out a joyful shriek and slapped his tiny palms onto the frosting just as they guided his hand to cut the first slice and a ripple of laughter swept through the room

Shivansh broke off a tiny, feather-light crumb of the vanilla sponge, while Ruhika scooped a microscopic bit of the cream onto her fingertip and held it out to Ruhaan.

The baby's eyes widened, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the sweet air. He took the offering with a cautious lick, his face freezing for a heartbeat as the sugar hit his tongue.

Then, his eyes nearly doubled in size, and he let out a frantic, high-pitched shriek of pure delight, lunging forward with his mouth wide open for more.

Ruhika laughed, her eyes shimmering under the chandelier light. She took a proper piece of the cake and turned to Shivansh. She didn't wait for him to take it; she fed it to him directly, her fingers lingering against his lips.

Shivansh's gaze darkened with a sudden, private heat—the kind of look that reminded everyone in the room that before they were Ruhaan's parents, they were a man and woman deeply in love.

He took the remaining piece from her hand, cupping Ruhika's jaw with a possessive tenderness as he fed her.

It was a slow, deliberate movement, a silent "thank you" for the year they had just conquered.

As she chewed, her eyes locked onto his, a glow illuminating her face that had nothing to do with the party lights.

Ruhaan, feeling momentarily ignored in his quest for more sugar, let out an indignant "Ma-ma! Pa-pa!" that drew a collective "Aww" from the crowd.

Ruhika leaned down, wiping a smudge of cream from the baby's chin with her thumb, only to have him try to feed her back by shoving his messy hand toward her mouth. She didn't flinch, she simply kissed his sticky knuckles, her heart overflowing.

The cake was sweet, but the sight of their son—messy, happy, and vibrantly alive—was the only indulgence they truly cared about.

It was a messy, chaotic, and perfect end to the formal festivities, proving that in the Kapoor household, love was always the main course.

__________________________________

The next year and a half had transformed the quiet, structured mornings of the Kapoor mansion into a vibrant theater of toddler energy.

The sun had barely begun to filter through the heavy velvet curtains of the bedroom when the sound of tiny, determined footsteps echoed

The door, left slightly ajar for this very reason every morning at 5 AM sharp, creaked open as a small figure in dinosaur-print pajamas marched in with the confidence of a king.

Ruhaan, now a sturdy and spirited eighteen-month-old, didn't hesitate.

He scrambled onto the high mattress, his knees digging into the duvet as he navigated his sleeping parents

He crawled right into the space between them, his thick hair wild from sleep and his dark eyes sparkling with a mischievous morning glow.

He leaned over Shivansh first, patting his father's stubbled cheek with a soft, pudgy hand.

"Gul-molning, Pa-pa!" he chirped, the syllables tumbling out in a sweet, high-pitched melody that bypassed any alarm clock.

Shivansh groaned, a slow, deep vibration that rumbled in his chest, but his lips were already curving into a smile. He didn't open his eyes yet, instead reaching out an arm to pull the warm, wiggly weight of his son closer. "Good Morning Mera Baby...Come let's sleep more for a while"

Ruhaan giggled, and turned his attention to Ruhika. He plopped his bottom right onto her stomach and leaned down until their noses touched.

"Mumma! Utho"

Ruhika's eyes fluttered open, and the sight of her son's radiant, toothy grin was like a shot of pure caffeine to her soul. "Oh, who is this morning monster?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

She sat up just enough to scoop him into her arms, burying her face in his neck to inhale that addictive scent of baby powder and home. "Mera sabse pyaara baby..."

The room was suddenly filled with the purest sound in the world—Ruhaan's breathless, rolling giggles. As Shivansh's large fingers began to dance over the toddler's ribs in a relentless tickle-attack, Ruhaan squirmed frantically, his little legs kicking the air in delight.

"Aahh-No! No, Mumma! No, Pa-pa!" he shrieked, his laughter reaching a high-pitched crescendo that made the chandeliers seem to hum.

He tried to hide behind Ruhika, his small hands pushing at Shivansh's chest, "No tiple"

She looked over the boy's head at Shivansh, her eyes meeting his in a gaze that was soft, profound, and overflowing with a quiet, domestic peace.

As Ruhaan finally settled, resting his head on Ruhika's chest while clutching Shivansh's hand, the mansion felt vibrantly, beautifully alive.

The mahogany study was unusually cluttered, its surface covered in glossy brochures and tablet screens displaying the elite curricula of Delhi's top preschools.

Shivansh sat with a spreadsheet open—while Ruhika leaned against his chair, her chin resting on his shoulder as she scanned a list of experiential learning programs.

"It's a lot, Ansh," she sighed, her fingers tracing her wedding band, I'll call Meera and Isha too, they'll be able to help us better

Shivansh nodded, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "Good idea. I want the best for him, but I don't want a pressure cooker. I want a place that keeps that light in his eyes."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Ruhaan wandered in, dragging a wooden truck behind him.

He climbed onto the low ottoman, sensing the serious air of the room.

Shivansh pulled the toddler onto his lap, turning the screen toward him.

Ruhaan, look. Soon, you're going to a special place called 'school,' Shivansh explained, his voice dropping to that gentle, explanatory rumble he reserved only for his son.

"There will be new babies like you—friends to play with, big slides, and teachers who will show you how the stars work. "

Ruhaan's head tilted, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

He looked up at them, his big, dark eyes wide with the daunting prospect of a world without his two anchors. "No go 'lone," he muttered, shaking his head so hard his curls danced. "Ruhaan stay... wiv Papa.

Play vroom-vroom."

Ruhaan chewed on his lip, considering this. "Ee-chel have juice? And... and bikkies?" He looked at Shivansh with a sudden, urgent gravity. "Papa, you bwing bikkies? Red ones?"

"Take him please, Pata nahi ye kispe gaya hai, he's not tired after thirty minutes of splashing" she laughed, though her eyes were glowing as she handed him over to Shivansh

Shivansh's large hands moved with practiced ease, catching Ruhaan mid-wiggle. He braced the boy against his hip, but his amber eyes weren't on his son; they were anchored to Ruhika.

The damp silk of her robe had become a second skin, translucent in the warm glow of the vanity lamps, mapping out every curve of her body with a devastating clarity.

"Apni Maa par hi gaya hai, he gets all the spark and energy from you, Meri Jaan"Shivansh rasped, his gaze darkening as it traveled over her.

He set Ruhaan down on the plush rug after dressing him up, giving the boy a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Go on, Champ, get your blue truck and we'll play"

Ruhaan, distracted by the prospect of his favorite toy, toddled off toward the corner of the room

The moment he was out of their immediate space, the atmosphere in the room shifted, turning thick and electric.

Shivansh didn't hesitate. He closed the distance between them in two long strides, his presence looming over her like a force of nature. He didn't touch her at first, letting the heat from his body radiate into her damp clothes.

"You're shivering," he murmured, though his voice held a low, predatory edge that suggested he was the cause of her trembling, not the chill.

His hands, large and calloused, found her waist, pulling her flush against the solid, dry heat of his chest. The contrast was startling—her damp coolness against his burning warmth.

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the pulse point behind her ear, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through her. "Should I help you dressing up as well? Or should I take my time making sure you're properly dry first?"

Ruhika's breath hitched as his thumb traced the line of her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his while his lips now a mere heartbeat away from hers.

He claimed her lips then—not with the gentle kiss but with the raw, possessive hunger of a man who had spent the day waiting for this exact silence. It was a searing, deep connection that tasted of salt and desire.

His hands slid down from her waist, his palms flat against the small of her back, pressing her into him until there was no space left for the air to breathe.

Ruhika let out a low, soft moan against his mouth, her spirit catching fire as it always did when he looked at her like she was the only thing in his universe.

In the background, the distant, muffled sound of Ruhaan's "Vroom-vroom" and the clatter of plastic blocks continued

The dynamic in the Kapoor mansion had shifted into a hilarious, lopsided power struggle where Shivansh found himself consistently outvoted by a two-and-a-half-year-old and his teasing mother.

Ruhaan had entered a phase of fierce, unwavering devotion to Ruhika, becoming a miniature shadow that followed her every move, often leaving Shivansh standing on the sidelines of his own family.

The morning started with a classic display of the "Mumma-only" policy. Shivansh had approached the breakfast table, arms open to scoop his son up for their usual morning high-five.

"Come here, Champ. Let's get you in your high chair," Shivansh said, his voice warm and inviting.

Ruhaan didn't even look up from his bowl of cereal. He instinctively leaned away, his small hand reaching out to grab a fistful of Ruhika's silk kurti.

"No, Papa. Mumma do it. Mumma chair!"

Shivansh's arms remained frozen in mid-air. He looked at Ruhika, who was struggling to hide a triumphant smirk behind her coffee cup.

"Ruhaan, she's with you only, give us a break beta"Shivansh sulked though the little one did not bother to understand

"Mumma bikkies. Mumma play...Car.

He sank into the chair beside them, looking genuinely wounded. "Did you hear that, Ruhi? My own blood is evicting me before 9:00 AM."

Ruhika couldn't contain it anymore; a low, melodic laugh escaped her as she pulled Ruhaan into her lap, the boy instantly molding himself against her chest like he belonged there.

"Don't take it personally, Ansh," Ruhika managed between laughs, her fingers carding through Ruhaan's messy morning curls

Shivansh leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his son treat Ruhika like a throne.

"I see how it is. I spend my life building an empire for this boy, and I've been relegated to the status of uninvited guest at my own breakfast table.

" He looked at Ruhaan, who was currently busy trying to feed Ruhika a soggy piece of cereal.

"Tell me, Champ, do I need to clear my schedule with your secretary next time? Should I book a three-week prior appointment just to sit next to my wife?"

Ruhaan looked up, his face smeared with milk and a look of profound indifference. "Pa-pa... go 'ffice," he repeated with a shrug, before turning back to whisper some toddler secret into Ruhika's ear.

Vikram, seated at the head of the table, chuckled deeply behind his newspaper.

"Welcome to the club, son.

Sunita smiled, but it was a fleeting, soft expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. The laughter at the table seemed to highlight the one empty chair that remained stubbornly vacant.

Ruhika noticed it first. She adjusted Ruhaan on her lap, her expression softening into a look of concern.

"Ma, where's Aarav? I thought he'd be down for the special pancakes today."

Sunita let out a heavy, tired sigh, her hand resting motionless on her teacup. "He was home late again last night... I heard his car pull in long after midnight. And when I went to check his room this morning, he was already gone. No breakfast, no note, just an empty bed."

She looked toward the door, her shoulders slumping. "I'm really starting to get worried about him, Vikram. He's becoming a stranger in his own house. It's like he's trying to outrun his own shadow."

The playful atmosphere at the table shifted instantly, the air growing thick with a familiar, aching tension.

Shivansh's jaw tightened, the "Titan" returning as he looked at the empty seat.

He knew the burnout wasn't from work; it was the cold, clinical distance Aarav had placed between himself and anything that felt like emotion.

"He's burying himself," Shivansh said quietly, his voice a low rumble. "I see him at the firm. He's sharp, he's efficient, but he's... hollow. He doesn't look people in the eye anymore unless it's to close a deal."

Ruhika reached across the table, placing her free hand over Sunita's. "We'll find a way to reach him, Ma

Ruhaan, sensing the change in energy, looked between the adults, his small face mimicking their gravity. He looked at the empty chair, then back at Shivansh. "Cha-chu?" he asked softly, his voice a small, hopeful question.

Shivansh reached over and squeezed Ruhaan's small hand, his gaze flickering to Ruhika with a look of shared, silent resolve. "Yeah, buddy. Chachu is just busy. But we'll bring him back."

_______________

The night was painted in shades of charcoal and silver, the silence of the Kapoor mansion broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a vintage clock and the distant rustle of the gulmohar trees outside.

In the master suite, the usual chaos of toddler toys and bedtime stories had been replaced by a rare, velvet intimacy.

Shivansh and Ruhika were tucked under the heavy duvet,

Ruhika lay with her head on Shivansh's chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the steady, powerful thrum of his heart. With Ruhaan sleeping over with his grandparents the air felt strangely expansive, charged with the kind of honesty that only emerges in the dead of night.

"Ansh?" she whispered, her voice a soft thread in the dark.

"Mmm?" He shifted, his arm tightening around her, his chin resting atop her head. "I can hear your brain whirring, Ruhi. What's on your mind?"

Ruhika took a deep breath, the scent of his sandalwood soap grounding her.

"I've been thinking about the next chapter.

Not just for us, but for me. I've spent years building someone else's brand, managing their accounts, and I've realized.

.. I want to build something of my own. My own event management firm. "

She felt him go still, not in resistance, but in that deep, focused listening that was his trademark

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes shimmering with a mix of ambition and vulnerability.

"The best part is Ruhaan. If I'm the boss, I dictate the hours.

I can be there for his first day of school, his mid-day tantrums..

. he remains the priority, but I don't have to lose myself in the process.

Is that... is that okay with you? If I step away for a bit to invest in this dream.

.. do you think I'm being reckless?"

Shivansh remained silent for a long moment, his amber eyes searching hers.

When he spoke, his voice was a low, resonant rumble of unwavering support.

"Is it okay?" he repeated, a slow, prideful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Ruhi, For years, I've watched you turn chaos into clockwork for people who didn't deserve half your talent.

The idea of you finally turning that fire toward your own name.

.. it doesn't just make me happy, it makes me proud. "

He reached up, his thumb stroking her cheekbone with a reverence that made her heart ache.

"Financials, logistics, time—none of that matters.

We are a team. If you need a year, take two.

If you need a partner to look over the contracts, the Auditor is at your service.

Your ambition isn't a burden, remember what I told you the very first day "I want your life to be expanded, I don't want a wife who shrinks herself; I want the woman who challenges me every single day. "

Ruhika felt the tension leave her shoulders, replaced by a surge of heat that had nothing to do with business. The way he looked at her—as a peer, a powerhouse, and a partner—was the greatest aphrodisiac she had ever known.

"Thank you, Ansh," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"You are not touching a single rupee of your savings," he stated firmly.

Ruhika blinked, her mouth falling open. "Ansh, no. This is my dream. I want to fund it myself, I don't want—"

"Listen to me," he interrupted, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing her lower lip. "Your savings are your security, your 'just in case.'

Ruhika bit her lip, her pride warring with the sheer devotion in his eyes. "I just... I don't want to be called names, Ansh. I don't want people whispering that the 'Kapoor daughter-in-law' just had a firm handed to her on a silver platter because she didn't want to work a 9-to-5 anymore

Shivansh let out a soft, huffed laugh, pulling her closer until her forehead rested against his.

"Names?

Let them talk. They'll stop the moment they see the quality of your work.

Besides," he teased, a wicked glint returning to his amber eyes, "don't worry.

Once you're making those huge, executive checks and your firm is the talk of the country, I fully expect to be a kept man. "

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her cheek. "I'll let you treat me and Ruhaan and spoil us both rotten. International trips, ridiculous shopping sprees, high-end gadgets—I am just waiting for the day I swipe your card and say my wife is the boss.

The sight of him—this powerful, stoic man—acting like he was the one getting a gift by helping her, was her undoing.

"You really want to be a trophy husband, Mr. Kapoor?" she whispered, a playful, teary smile breaking across her face.

"Only yours," he rasped, his hands sliding down to her waist

Ruhika felt the tension bleed out of her, replaced by a surge of heat that had nothing to do with business.

The way he supported her—not just with words, but with a fierce, protective belief—was overwhelming.

"You are impossibly stubborn," she whispered against his lips.

"I learned from the best," he teased

His touch turned slow and deliberate, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip through her silk nightgown. "Now, since we've settled the business plan..."

His voice dropped into a dark, velvet growl as he leaned into the crook of her neck, his breath ghosting over her skin. "Can I have my wife back? Isse pehle tumhara beta subah aajaye?

Ruhika let out a low, melodic laugh, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to bridge the final inch between them "Mera Beta? Is that jealousy from your own kid, I'm hearing Ansh?"she teased, her eyes shimmering with a defiant, hungry light.

"Don't worry, Mr. Kapoor, you have seven hours"

He didn't wait for her to say more . He claimed her lips in a kiss that was a seal of their new pact—a blend of deep-rooted respect and the kind of searing passion that reminded them both that while they were aspiring to achieve success in the outside world, they were fire and ice in the bedroom.

"Is that so?" he murmured against her skin, his hands beginning a slow, possessive exploration that made her breath hitch. "Then I intend to make sure you're too distracted to think about spreadsheets until the sun comes up."

Ruhika let out a low, shaky laugh, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pulled him down into the pillows.

Shivansh moved with the deliberate, predatory grace of a man who had finally cleared the world away to focus on his only truth.

He hovered over Ruhika, his large frame casting a dominant shadow over her as he pinned her wrists gently above her head, his eyes burning with an amber fire that made her blood hum.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his voice a low, jagged vibration against her collarbone, "how many meetings I've sat through today just thinking about the way you taste."

His lips traced the delicate arch of her throat, his tongue flicking against her pulse point until she was arched beneath him, her breath hitching in broken, desperate stutters.

His hands traveled downward, his calloused palms sliding over the silk of her nightgown, mapping the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips with a possessive familiarity.

When he finally stripped the silk away, the sight of her in the pale light made his jaw tighten with a raw, unyielding hunger.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his hands finding the soft inner skin of her thighs, parting them with a firm, steady pressure

The touching became more urgent, more visceral.

Shivansh's fingers explored her with a meticulous intensity, finding the slick, heat-drenched center of her desire.

Ruhika let out a sharp, guttural moan, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer as she sought the friction she craved.

She felt the heavy, thrumming weight of him between her legs, a promise of the storm to come.

"Ansh... please," she pleaded, her voice a fractured thread of longing.

He rose above her, his muscles corded and glistening in the dim light. He guided himself to her entrance, pausing for a heartbeat to look into her eyes, ensuring she felt every ounce of his devotion.

Then, with a slow, agonizingly deep surge, he entered her. Ruhika's eyes fluttered shut as she took all of him, her body stretching and molding to accommodate his thickness, the sheer fullness of him sending waves of white-hot pleasure through her core.

"Look at me, Ruhi," he commanded, his voice thick with the effort of restraint.

When she opened her eyes, he began to move.

The thrusts were slow at first—long, rhythmic strokes that pulled out every shiver of sensation.

He withdrew almost entirely before buried himself deep within her again, hitting the very center of her soul.

As the pace quickened, the sound of their bodies meeting became a rhythmic, primal percussion in the silent room.

Every thrust was a claim, a wordless vow of belonging.

Shivansh's movements became more powerful, his breathing ragged as he drove into her with a fierce, passionate desperation.

Ruhika met him stroke for stroke, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him deeper, her nails digging into his back

"I thought our baby tires you, Ruhi"Shivansh rasped, his hands sliding up to grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin with a renewed, appreciative heat.

She began to move, her hips rolling against him in a slow, torturous rhythm that drew a jagged groan from deep in his chest. She wasn't asking anymore; she was taking. Her hands traveled over his chest, her nails tracing the hard lines of his abs with a predatory precision.

Shivansh watched her, his breath hitching as he witnessed the raw, uninhibited power of the woman he loved. She looked magnificent—feral, beautiful, and entirely in control.

"Look at you," he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of pride and agonizing desire. "A total tigress. My fierce, beautiful tigress."

This time, she dictated the pace. It wasn't the slow, worshipping rhythm of before; it was a fast, demanding friction that burned through the last of their restraint.

She moved with a fiery intensity, her body arching back as she sought her own pleasure, her voice rising in sharp, melodic gasps that filled the room.

Shivansh reached up, his hands tangling in her hair to pull her down for a searing, messy kiss, meeting her fire with a desperate hunger of his own. He surged up to meet every one of her thrusts, his body vibrating with the effort of staying anchored as she pushed him toward the edge.

"Ruhi... damn you," he choked out, his head falling back as the tension reached a breaking point.

She didn't let up until she felt the telltale tremor in his muscles.

With a final, triumphant surge, she rode him through the climax, her own voice breaking into a guttural cry as the world dissolved into a blur of heat and silk.

As she finally collapsed onto his chest, her heart hammering like a trapped bird, Shivansh wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him in a possessive, exhausted embrace.

"Tigress," he whispered into her hair, his voice a ragged thread of awe. "You're going to be the death of me."

Shivansh pulled the duvet over their tangled limbs, his chin resting atop Ruhika's head as her breathing slowed into the rhythmic tempo of sleep.

Tomorrow, the corporate world would demand the Auditor's cold precision. Tomorrow, Ruhika would take her first steps toward an empire of her own making. And tomorrow, a two-and-a-half-year-old bundle of energy would wake them up with

"Gul-molning" and a demand for juice.

But for these few remaining hours of darkness, the chaos was held at bay.

The house was quiet, the legacy was secure, and the fire that had started it all was still burning, brighter and more enduring than ever.

As Shivansh finally closed his eyes, he pressed one last, lingering kiss to Ruhika's temple—a silent promise that no matter how the winds shifted, they would always be each other's sanctuary.

_____________

Double Update!

Happy Reading! ?????

Leave lots of votes and reactions! ????