CHAPTER 16! NEW COUPLE ? #2
"Okay," she said softly, her voice carrying a warm, steady resonance that instantly commanded their attention. "Come here. Lean in. I'm going to teach you both a very important secret protocol."
The children immediately scooted closer, their eyes wide with curiosity.
Aadhira sat cross-legged properly, her expression calm, open, and intensely reassuring.
"In this world, there are good touches and there are bad touches. A good touch means any touch that makes you feel completely safe, warm, and happy inside. Like a big hug from Mama when you win a game, holding Papa's hand tightly while crossing a busy road, or Dadi kissing your forehead before bed."
Both children nodded in serious, synchronized comprehension.
"But a bad touch," she continued gently, her tone turning firm but entirely non-frightening, "means any touch that makes your stomach feel funny, or makes you feel uncomfortable, scared, confused, or angry.
It is especially a bad touch if someone tries to look at or touch the private parts of your body-the areas that your swimsuit covers."
Vaani's small brows furrowed deeply.
Aadhira pointed carefully to their shoulders, their hands, and then their chests.
"Your body belongs entirely to you. It is your private kingdom. Nobody-not a stranger, not a reletive, not even a friend-is allowed to touch your private kingdom unless it's a doctor or a parent helping you stay clean or healthy.
And if anyone ever tries to break that rule and makes you feel uncomfortable, do you know what you do?"
"What?" Ayaan whispered.
"You shout 'NO' as loudly as you can. You run away from them immediately, and you come straight to me, to Papa, or to your Dadi and tell us. No matter what that person says, it is never, ever your fault, and you never keep it a secret. Understand?"
Both kids nodded vigorously, internalizing the command.
Then, Ayaan tilted his small head, a look of deep, childish contemplation crossing his features. "But boys are supposed to protect girls, na? Then why do boys need this talk too, mama?"
Aadhira's entire expression softened into something profoundly beautiful. She reached forward, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.
"Because boys deserve safety too."
Ayaan blinked.
Aadhira smiled softly. "And because one day, good boys grow into safe men. The kind of men people trust. The kind who make others feel protected, not afraid."
Ayaan listened in absolute, processing silence, his small shoulders straightening slightly.
"And also," she continued, pulling him a little closer into a side-hug, "sometimes, people around you will need protection. Not everyone is born strong enough to stand up for themselves against bad things, samjhe meri jaan? You have to be the one who knows what's right."
He nodded seriously against her shoulder, his little chest puffing out.
Vaani immediately wrapped her tiny arms around Aadhira's other sleeve, her lower lip sticking out determinedly.
"Main bhi strong banoongi! Main bhi sabki help karungi!"
Aadhira smiled faintly, a sudden, unexpected tightness forming in her throat as a wave of protective emotion washed over her. She pulled them both into a tight, warm embrace.
"I know you will. You both are going to be magnificent."
She kissed both their foreheads softly, holding them against her heart.
An hour later, the relentless energy of the day had finally caught up with them. Both children had fallen fast asleep, tangled up beside her beneath the light mint blanket on her massive bed, their breathing deep and rhythmic.
Outside, the fierce monsoon rain had finally begun to calm, transitioning into a soft, melodic drizzle against the windowpanes.
And for the very first time since she had been forcefully pulled into Aryav Rai Shinghania's cold, intimidating universe-Aadhira felt a quiet, steady sense of purpose settle deep inside her own chest.
Maybe that was the real danger of loving people.
They quietly became your responsibility.
The next morning, before the city had fully awakened, Aadhira stood alone in the Agrawal mansion's kitchen.
The house staff had offered help three separate times.
She had refused all three.
The kheer simmered slowly inside a wide silver pot, filling the kitchen with the comforting scent of cardamom, saffron, and warm milk.
Aadhira stirred it carefully. Not because anyone had asked her to. Because some things belonged to the heart. And hearts preferred doing things themselves.
When Shaurya and Padmini suggested she take a car, she had simply shaken her head. She wanted to walk.
An hour later, she climbed the familiar stone steps leading to the old Radha-Krishna temple.
The previous night's rain still lingered in the air. Wet earth, sandalwood incense, and fresh marigolds blended into a scent she had known since childhood.
Temple bells echoed softly somewhere inside. With every step, the noise in her head seemed to fall away.
No wedding preparations.
No negotiations.
No Shinghanias.
No Aryav.
The fact that she had to consciously remove him from the list irritated her immensely.
But here, at least, it was just her. And Radha-Krishna.
The elderly priest looked up from arranging flowers near the sanctum and immediately smiled. "Arey, bitiya." His eyes dropped to the silver vessel in her hands. "Khud banayi hai?"
Aadhira smiled and nodded. "Ji, Pandit ji."
The priest accepted the bowl carefully, a look of nostalgia crossing his weathered face. "Kitne saalon baad tum apne haath ki kheer lekar aayi ho."
Aadhira lowered her gaze. "Kaam mein ulajh gayi thi."
The priest chuckled, his gaze shifting toward the central deity. "Nahi. Tum duniya mein ulajh gayi thi."
Aadhira looked up toward the beautifully adorned idol. Fresh pink roses framed Radha's face.
For a moment, she folded her hands and frowned slightly. "Lagta hai meri sakhi mujhse naraz hai."
The priest laughed softly. "Hogi hi. Yaad hi kab kiya tumne unhe?"
Aadhira's smile deepened, a quiet conviction settling into her voice. "Main khud ko bhool sakti hoon, Pandit ji. Apni Shakhi ko nahi."
The old priest's eyes softened. "Chinta mat karo." He looked toward the deity affectionately. "Hamari Ladli Ju bahut dayalu hain. Rooth jaati hain, par zyada der tak nahi." He smiled knowingly.
"Jo sachche mann se laut aaye, unhe kabhi door nahi rakhti."
Aadhira lowered her eyes. She bowed before the deity, accepting the holy prasad from Pandit ji.
Mechanically, with deep-seated reverence, she pressed the prasad lightly to her forehead, then her closed eyes, and finally her heart before eating it.
Lately, every path in her life seemed to be leading somewhere she had never intended to go. And somehow, she could no longer tell whether that frightened her... or comforted her.
She sat cross-legged beneath the temple mandap after the aarti ended. The soft sound of bhajans drifted through the courtyard.
Children ran across the stone pathways, chasing pigeons. Somewhere nearby, an elderly couple argued affectionately over misplaced spectacles.
Life continued.
Simple.
Ordinary.
Peaceful.
The complete opposite of Aryav Rai Shinghania.
Which was probably why her thoughts drifted toward him anyway. Annoying man.
Aadhira frowned immediately. "Radha Rani," she muttered beneath her breath, staring hard at the stone floor. "Even here?"
A small smile touched the corner of her mouth.
She suppressed it at once.
Unsuccessfully.
The traffic in city was a special kind of punishment. It was a chaotic, sweltering orchestra of honking horns, impatient bikers, delivery vans, and commuters who treated traffic lights like polite suggestions.
Vivaan sat behind the wheel of his black Range Rover, one hand resting on the steering wheel, looking detached from the urban anarchy surrounding him.
For the first time in nearly three years-he was late.
Vivaan loved both children.
Which was unfortunate, because they were exhausting.
His lateness today had nothing to do with a high-profile board meeting or a demanding multinational client.
It was entirely because Vaani had flatly refused to wear matching socks, and Ayaan had declared war on breakfast because his toast was cut into squares instead of triangles.
Today again they told him to drop them agrawal manstion and who is vivaan to object them.
Parenthood was an expensive, deeply exhausting scam.
His phone buzzed sharply against the dashboard display.
LEGAL MEETING - 10:00 AM
Vivaan glanced at the digital clock. 10:07. His structured day was collapsing.
Then-CRASH.
The vehicle jerked sideways with a harsh, metal-on-metal crunch.
Vivaan's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a fraction harder.
Silence inside the cabin.
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
He switched off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and stepped out into the humid, exhaust-laden air.
The silver sedan crumpled against the rear flank of his SUV looked considerably worse than his reinforced bumper.
The driver's side door of the sedan flew open, and a woman stormed out.
She looked like she was about to cause trouble-dark, unruly curls escaping a messy ponytail, oversized designer sunglasses perched on her head, and enough defensive confidence to power a small nation.
"ARE YOU BLIND?!"
Vivaan blinked once, unmoved by the volume.
She continued, her voice cutting clean over the roaring traffic. "Road pe gaadi chalani aati hai ya license kisi ne gift mein diya tha?!"
Passing drivers slowed down to watch. India's favorite national sport: public drama.
Vivaan adjusted the cuff of his charcoal shirt. Calmly.
She pointed furiously at her smashed front bumper. "Dekha hai kya kiya hai aapne?!"
Vivaan looked at her flushed face, then at the tangled metal, then back at her.
"Done?"
She froze, her tongue catching against her teeth. "Excuse me?"
"Excused. Now my turn." His voice remained perfectly polite, yet unyielding.