CHAPTER 10! SAMOSA #2
Inside the Agrawal estate, Aadhira adjusted the embroidered hem of her pastel blue cotton anarkali before fastening her pink helmet strap loosely beneath her chin.
Her silver bangles clinked softly in a bright, musical rhythm as she scooped her keys off the console table.
Behind her, Shaurya looked up from his iPad with immediate, deeply unadulterated disapproval.
"You're taking the scooty?" Shaurya asked, already sounding tired.
Aadhira gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in theatrical outrage. "Excuse you. Her name is Laila," Aadhira corrected.
Shaurya stared past her shoulder out toward the driveway, where a faded pink scooty sat parked like a colorful blemish against the fleet of luxury sedans.
"That thing makes noises I associate with dying machinery."
"Jealousy is ugly on you."
Shaurya slowly pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. "Take the Mercedes, Aadhi. I'll call the driver."
"My scooty is faster in traffic."
"It also survives exclusively through divine intervention."
"Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don't tell people the great lawyer Shaurya Agrawal is related to you."
Aadhira looked around dramatically.
"Great lawyer? Where?"
Shaurya threw an apple at her head.
She caught it and pointed a finger at him accusingly, her eyes narrowing. "You've changed since you started spending all your time with Aryav Rai Shinghania.
Your vocabulary has become entirely corporate."
"That's called escaping poverty."
"No, that's corruption."
Ignoring his final, dead-eyed stare of sibling judgment, Aadhira happily turned on her heel and drove out of the massive iron mansion gates on her scooty.
Behind her, Shaurya looked up from his iPad with the exhausted expression of an older brother who had given up years ago.
The school dispersal crowd outside the prestigious international academy was a masterclass in chaotic luxury.
Wealthy parents and armed private security details waited near the high iron gates beneath black umbrellas and idling luxury SUVs, while hundreds of children flooded out in noisy, chaotic waves of crisp uniforms, colorful water bottles, and loud complaints about their unfinished geography homework.
Aadhira stood beside her parked scooty at the curb, adjusting her ivory dupatta against the warm breeze.
Then she saw him.
Ayaan emerged through the grand arched gates beside his class line-and the exact millisecond his dark eyes swept over the crowd, he spotted her.
His entire face changed.
It wasn't a loud or dramatic reaction. Ayaan was, after all, Aryav Rai Shinghania's direct flesh and blood; his emotions rarely arrived with a theatrical announcement. But the shift in his tiny frame was absolute.
The second Ayaan saw her, he ran.
A few teachers actually stopped to stare.
Ayaan Shinghania never ran toward people.
"Mama!"
Aadhira laughed softly, dropping to her knees just before his small body collided violently into her arms.
She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck and kissing the top of his dark head while he wrapped his arms around her with absolute, unyielding ownership.
"How was school, my king?" she asked warmly, pulling back to check his face.
"Boring."
"An excellent, five-star academic review."
"The maths teacher gave us homework on a Friday," Ayaan stated, his small mouth twisting into a severe line. "It's a clear human rights violation."
"How deeply tragic for your schedule."
Before Ayaan could continue detailing his profound academic suffering, a tiny, piercing voice interrupted them from the side.
"Hello, didi."
Aadhira turned her head. A little girl around five years old stood there with supreme, unshakeable confidence. She had two crooked, chaotic ponytails, enormous dark eyes filled with aggressive curiosity, and a uniform shirt that was already half-untucked.
"My name is Vaani and I am 6 year old," the girl announced with immense seriousness.
Aadhira smiled instantly, her heart melting. "Hi, Vaani. It's very nice to meet you."
Ayaan sighed, a sound so deeply exhausted it belonged to a grandfather rather than a seven-year-old boy. "Mama, ignore her. She's Vivaan uncle's daughter."
Aadhira blinked.
Vivaan had a daughter?
That felt medically impossible.
Aadhira decided not to question it further for the sake of her sanity.
she forced her focus back to the children.
Vaani immediately kicked Ayaan's shiny leather school shoe with full force. "And I am also your best friend, you idiot."
Ayaan glared down at her, his posture turning rigid. "No, you are not."
"You literally prayed for me when I had a high fever last month," Vaani pointed out, crossing her small arms defiantly.
"That was strictly because you had been screaming for three hours straight and I wanted the noise to stop."
"You still prayed."
"Vaani, you literally cannot keep secrets."
Then, with a sudden surge of immense, unadulterated pride, Ayaan stepped closer to Aadhira and pointed a finger toward her. "Anyway, look. She's my mom."
Ayaan said proudly.
A black SUV stopped near the curb.
Vivaan stepped out.
Unlike Aryav, who dominated rooms by existing, Vivaan blended into silence too easily.
Which somehow made him worse.
He wore a dark charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing a glint of steel from his watch.
Reading Vivaan's expression was usually a waste of time.
Parents moved aside automatically when Vivaan walked past.
Nobody questioned why.
Aadhira immediately offered a polite, respectful smile. "Vivaan bhai."
Vivaan stopped a few feet away, his sharp eyes taking in the entire scene-including the pink scooty-in less than a second.
He gave her a short, functional nod. "Aadhira."
His eyes went back to the scooty.
"This survives public roads?"
Aadhira looked offended immediately. "Her name is Laila."
"Of course it is," Vivaan muttered.
"How are you?
How was the week?"
"Tiring," Vivaan replied, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that held zero room for pleasantries.
"That sounds concerning."
Vivaan glanced at her once.
"For other people?
Yes."
Ayaan had already moved closer to Aadhira, standing in front of her like he was personally responsible for security.
Vivaan looked mildly entertained for exactly half a second.
Aadhira cleared her throat carefully, adjusting her stance. "Vivaan bhai... if you don't mind, can I take Ayaan with me today? I wanted to spend some time with him, and I promise I'll drop him back home safely after a little while."
Vivaan remained perfectly silent for exactly one agonizing second, his analytical gaze weighing the request.
Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his encrypted phone.
"I'll call the boss first," Vivaan said.
Ayaan looked offended. "Give me the phone uncle."
Vivaan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I'll talk to Dad."
Vaani snorted. "That's the worst plan I've ever heard."
"Nobody asked you."
"You're still getting rejected."
Vivaan looked between the two children, unimpressed.
"Every day," he muttered, handing Ayaan the phone, "I question my life choices."
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