Chapter 15
Reeva
I roll onto my back and stare at the dark ceiling, desperately trying to relax, but the harder I try, the more restless I become. I squeeze my eyes shut and draw in several deep breaths, but nothing works. Frustrated, I reach for my phone on the bedside table and check the time.
It is past midnight.
With a weary sigh, I push aside the silk sheets, slip out of bed, and pad barefoot across the room towards the window. I draw back the curtains and stare into the darkness as my conversation with Shaurya replays in my head.
I always knew his mother would never accept me, yet hearing Shaurya admit it somehow makes the rejection feel painfully fresh again.
And then there is his stubborn refusal to understand that remaining in our child’s life will not automatically give our baby a happy family. Instead, all it will do is make our child an innocent victim of the cold war.
Damn it. I should be furious at the way Shaurya refuses to think beyond what he wants. A part of me is. Yet another, more vulnerable part feels a treacherous flicker of relief that he wants to remain in our baby’s life.
The contradiction tears me apart. If Shaurya stays, our child may grow up surrounded by resentment. But if he leaves, our baby will grow up without a father. And I know far too well what it means to ache for a parent who isn’t there.
God, I have no idea what the right choice is anymore. My hand drifts instinctively to my still-flat stomach. “What am I supposed to do, little one?” I whisper. “How do I protect you when every choice I make seems destined to hurt you one way or another?”
I remain by the window for several more minutes, but when no answers come, I draw the curtains closed and return to bed.
Slipping beneath the sheets, I curl onto my side and rest one hand protectively over my stomach.
I force myself to breathe slowly, counting each inhale and exhale.
My thoughts continue circling, but eventually, exhaustion overpowers my fear.
My eyelids grow heavy, and sometime before dawn, I finally drift into a restless sleep.
Hours later, I wake with a heavy head and a dull ache behind my eyes, the restless night clinging to every part of me.
After brushing my teeth and taking a warm shower, I slip into a comfortable cotton kurta, twist my hair into a loose bun, and splash cold water over my face in a futile attempt to look more awake than I feel.
Then I make my way downstairs towards the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee will clear the fog from my mind.
But the moment I reach the kitchen, my morning becomes considerably worse. Shaurya is seated on one of the bar stools at the island, sipping coffee while typing something on his phone.
I pause in the doorway, taking him in despite myself.
He is dressed in black track pants and a fitted black V-neck T-shirt.
The open neckline reveals the strong column of his throat and the dark hair curling faintly at its base.
His hair is still slightly damp, suggesting he has already showered after a morning workout.
He looks infuriatingly fresh.
Damn him. I spent half the night arguing with my own thoughts, while he apparently slept perfectly well, as though nothing in his life had changed.
As though sensing my stare, he looks up, and our eyes meet. His gaze moves slowly over my face, taking in the shadows beneath my eyes, and concern tightens his features.
Concern for the baby, I remind myself. Not for me.
Good. Let him see how miserable I am with him beneath the same roof.
Let him understand that forcing his way back into my life has stolen what little peace I had left.
Let him carry the blame for the exhaustion written across my face and realise that every bit of stress he causes me could affect the child he claims to be protecting.
He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure what you felt like eating, so I ordered an assortment of your favourite things.”
He nods towards the elaborate spread arranged across the centre of the island. Freshly baked croissants, pancakes drizzled with honey, buttered toast, idlis with coconut chutney, poha, sliced fruit, and a small bowl of yoghurt.
My gaze drifts over the food, and my stomach gives a violent lurch. I draw in a deep breath, praying I am not about to suffer another wave of morning sickness and vomit across the tiled floor.
“Just coffee,” I say, swallowing against the nausea.
His brows draw together. “Is coffee safe during pregnancy?”
“One cup a day is perfectly safe,” I reply, walking farther into the kitchen. “Denying me one would be far more dangerous.”
His concern deepens. “For the baby?”
“For anyone foolish enough to try.” I deliver the warning without a trace of humour, but a reluctant grin tugs at his lips as he rises and walks towards the coffee machine. I lower myself onto a bar stool and watch him retrieve the pot, pour the coffee into a mug, and carry it over to me.
His gaze holds mine as he extends the mug.
I carefully curl my fingers around the handle, determined to avoid touching him, but he makes it impossible.
His hand closes gently over mine, guiding my grip until the mug is secure between my fingers.
The warmth of his palm seeps into my skin, and beneath the intensity of his gaze, even breathing becomes an effort.
“How did you sleep?” he asks quietly.
“Fine.”
His eyes sweep over my exhausted face. “You were always a terrible liar.”
“And you look far too rested for the man responsible for robbing me of every trace of peace.”
“Believe me, Reeva, knowing that I am the reason you have none has cost me every trace of my own,” he murmurs as he releases my hand and settles onto the stool opposite me.
For one dangerous second, the quiet regret in his voice slips past my defences.
Looking at him more closely, I notice the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the tension carved into his features.
He hasn’t slept any better than I have. But sympathy is the first crack in a wall I cannot afford to let crumble.
Not when he has already proven how easily he can find his way inside.
I lift the mug to my lips and force my expression to remain indifferent as I reply, “Then we finally have something in common. Neither of us can escape the consequences of what you did.”
His eyes darken as he stares at me, and for a moment, I brace myself for whatever cutting response he might deliver. But he merely draws in a slow breath before deliberately changing the subject.
“I need to go into the office for a few hours today.”
I give a dismissive shrug. “Why are you telling me? We may be sharing a roof, Shaurya, but we are no longer sharing a life. You don’t owe me your schedule, and I certainly don’t want it.” I take another sip of coffee. “The less we see of each other, the easier this arrangement will be.”
“Then you’re going to be disappointed,” he replies, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t move into this house to become a stranger. I am here for you and our child, Reeva, and I intend to be present. In fact, leaving you out of my sight even for a few hours doesn’t sit well with me.”
“That sounds like a problem you should work on.” I roll my eyes. “Because I refuse to spend the coming months under surveillance simply because you’ve suddenly discovered your protective instincts.”
“Then I’d better give you a chance to get used to them,” he says, reaching for his phone. “I’ll move my meetings online and work from here today. That should give you plenty of time to adjust to my newfound protective instincts.”
Panic races through me at the thought of him hovering over me all day, and I quickly set my mug down. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shaurya. Go to the office. Our baby and I can survive a few hours without your supervision, and Meena Aunty is here if I need anything.”
“She already has enough responsibilities without being expected to watch over you every second.”
“And you don’t?” I retort. “You have an entire company to run.”
“I have people capable of managing the company in my absence.” His gaze holds mine. “You are my wife, and you’re carrying our child. Taking care of both of you is my first responsibility. And right now, nothing waiting for me at the office is more important.”
His words strike somewhere dangerously close to my heart, but I refuse to let them weaken me. “You need to go. I really don’t need you here.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” he says, his voice hardening with the ruthless determination I have come to expect from him. “I’ve made my decision.”
I clench my jaw in frustration. This man clearly has no intention of listening to reason, but perhaps I can use his obsession with protecting our baby against him.
“You genuinely want to do what’s best for us? Then go to work. Being around you is terrible for my blood pressure.”
One eyebrow rises as the faintest smile touches his lips. “You fainted because your blood pressure was too low.” He leans back on his stool. “So perhaps having me here is exactly the medicine you need.”
I glare at him.
“Save your breath for the next argument, sweetheart. You’re not going to win this one.”
“You don’t think my peace of mind matters?” I snap.
“It matters,” he says, returning his attention to his phone. “But you collapsed yesterday, and until I am convinced it won’t happen again, keeping you and our baby safe comes first.”
I release a defeated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Just remember, there are still several months of this pregnancy left. That’s a very long time to neglect your office.”
“I am not neglecting anything.” He looks up from his phone. “I intended to reduce my working hours once the baby was born anyway. Consider this practice.”
The answer rattles me. There it is again. Another declaration that makes him sound like the devoted father I had convinced myself he could never be.
“Why would you do that?” I demand.
His expression tightens. “Do you honestly believe I intend to be a father who appears for photographs and disappears for everything that matters? That the birth of our son or daughter won’t be important enough for me to rearrange every part of my life?”
“You’re speaking as though we’re going to spend the next eighteen years raising this child side by side.”
“Longer,” he replies, offering me a faint, placating smile. “Parenthood doesn’t come with an expiry date.”
“But our marriage does,” I remind him caustically. “I want a divorce just as much now as I did the day I placed those papers in front of you.”
His smile vanishes, but his gaze never leaves mine.
“Then you’re waiting for something that will never happen.
I signed those papers because I believed letting you go was the only decent thing I could still do for you.
I won’t make that mistake again.” His voice drops with quiet finality. “There will be no divorce.”
“Then enjoy having a wife who exists only on paper,” I reply, bitterness burning my throat. “You may be able to keep my name tied to yours, Shaurya, but you cannot force my heart to remain in a marriage your betrayal drove it from.”
A muscle jerks in his jaw as he rises abruptly and rounds the island. He stops beside me before lowering himself into a crouch, bringing us almost eye to eye. Against my better judgement, my gaze drops to his.
“Your heart hasn’t left, Reeva. It’s hurt, furious, and afraid to trust me, but it’s still here.” His gaze holds mine with unnerving certainty. “And I intend to spend as long as it takes proving that it still belongs with me, Mrs. Rajvansh.”
His words send a dizzy rush of warmth through me, awakening a hope I have no right to feel.
I search for a sharp reply, anything that might restore the distance between us.
But my mind goes completely blank. Before I can recover, Shaurya leans forward and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
The tenderness of it steals what little breath remains in my lungs.
He rises to his full height and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me frozen on the stool. My fingers drift to the place his lips touched, and a terrifying truth whispers through me.
Perhaps my heart never truly left him. It is merely waiting for a reason to return.