CHAPTER 34! JUST SIBLINGS THINGS
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Laughter faded first.
Then the conversations.
Until the living room returned to what the Rai Shinghania mansion understood best-silence.
The game had technically continued, but its soul had left the moment Aryav anchored Aadhira to his side.
For Aadhira, the psychological exhaustion of the day-and the relentless, suffocating heat radiating from the man beneath her-finally took its toll.
Her rigid posture softened by millimeters until her head drifted sideways, her brow coming to rest against the crisp, expensive fabric of Aryav's shirt.
She didn't even last the round.
Aryav didn't shift.
He didn't call attention to the fact that the woman who argued with him over everything had fallen asleep without realizing where she'd chosen to rest.
With absolute composure, his right hand continued to swipe across his tablet.
A shipment disappeared from a Mediterranean port.
A minister changed his vote.
A man in London stopped answering his phone.
Aryav approved all three before midnight.
Elsewhere, people called it business. Here, it was just Monday.
The family began to disperse.
Reyansh offered a quiet, mocking salute before sliding out of the room.
Myra and Tara exchanged a lingering, unreadable look, their usual teasing completely muted by the sheer intensity of the scene.
Rajendra Vikram rose last, pausing at the threshold.
Aryav hadn't adjusted his posture once. Neither had he moved her away.
The old man smiled to himself before leaving, the heavy double doors clicking softly shut behind him.
The room belonged entirely to the shadows, the dying embers of the fireplace, and them.
When the grandfather clock struck midnight, Aryav finally locked his tablet.
He looked down at Aadhira.
A faint frown lingered on her mouth. Even asleep, she looked like she was still arguing with him.
Without a sound, Aryav moved.
He slid one arm beneath her knees, the other settling around her back.
Then he stood, as if her weight had never entered the equation. In his right hand, he casually held his tablet.
He ascended the grand staircase in absolute silence.
No strain.
No breathlessness.
Just the rhythmic, calculated thud of his leather shoes against the marble.
Reaching the master suite, he opened the door with a seamless twist of the handle. The room was vast, cooled to a precise temperature, and smelling faintly of his dark tobacco.
He walked over to the massive, silk-sheeted bed and lowered her onto it with meticulous care.
Her fingers brushed the lapel of his jacket. Even asleep, she reached for him.
Aryav looked at her hand for a long moment, then sat down beside the bed.
Moonlight spilled across her face.
For the first time all day, she wasn't fighting with anyone.
No sharp remarks.
No defiance.
No fear.
Just sleep.
He studied her quietly.
He could read fear. Lies. Greed. Ambition.
But Aadhira remained the only language he had never learned.
A quiet chime vibrated from the tablet in the dark.
London Sector Cleared.
Three liabilities resolved.
Awaiting photographic confirmation.
Aryav's thumbs moved across the glass with clinical speed.
Dispose of the vehicles. Burn the phones.
Three soft, rhythmic knocks rattled the heavy mahogany door immediately after.
It wasn't the frantic pounding of an emergency, nor the deferential rap of a servant.
It was precise.
Aryav stood up, his silhouette cutting through the moonlight, and pulled the door open.
Ayaan stood in the hallway with a gray velvet pillow clutched to his chest like evidence.
His dark hair was slightly messy, his silver-rimmed eyes wide as he looked up at his father without a shred of fear.
"Papa," Ayaan whispered.
Before Aryav could answer, a sleepy, slurred voice drifted from the bed. "Ayaan...?"
The voice belonged to Aadhira.
The mere sound of her son's name had snapped her awake.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking at Aryav, at Ayaan, and then at the enormous bed.
It looked like peace.
The Rai Shinghanias wore peace the same way other families wore masks.
"Come here, jaan," she called out, her voice softening.
Ayaan bypassed his father entirely, padding across the thick carpet and scrambling onto the high mattress.
He curled up right next to her, burying his face in her side. "Mumma, I am scared. Can I sleep here today?"
Aadhira wrapped her arms around him, pulling the heavy duvet over his small shoulders. "Of course you can, baby. You don't even have to ask."
Aryav closed the door quietly, walking back into the room.
He stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, observing them.
Ayaan shifted against the pillows, his small brow suddenly furrowing as he looked up at Aadhira.
"Also... you forgot to give me my goodnight kiss today."
Aadhira let out a soft, breathless chuckle, her fingers gently smoothing down his wild hair. "Oh, did I? I'm so sorry, my prince."
She leaned down and pressed a loving kiss against his warm cheek.
Ayaan beamed, his small shoulders relaxing completely.
But then, his silver eyes flicked over to the shadow standing at the foot of the bed.
The child's expression became instantly serious, mirroring the exact gravity of Aryav.
"You kissed me." Ayaan looked at his father. "Papa didn't get one."
Aadhira's entire body froze.
This child was not a son.
He was a tiny negotiator trained by terrorists.
"Uh... Ayaan, meri jaan," Aadhira cleared her throat, trying to deploy tactical manipulation.
"Papa is a big boy, see? Big boys don't need goodnight kisses. In fact, if we look out the window right now, we can see the stars! Do you want to count the stars instead?"
Ayaan : No Mama, papa deserve a kiss too.
"Ayaan." Aryav's voice was calm.
"Don't force your mother."
Aadhira relaxed slightly, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Then Ayaan frowned. "But it's unfair, Mama." He pointed a small, unyielding finger.
The entire room lost.
Aadhira swallowed hard.
She knew if she refused, Ayaan wouldn't sleep, and Aryav would never let her live down the cowardice.
Banda sharm hi kar leta hai, she thought frantically, her pulse hammering violently against her ribs.
Moving like a wooden doll, Aadhira leaned forward across the expanse of the mattress.
Of course he didn't move.
Aryav Rai Shinghania had never been a man who met anyone halfway.
The distance between them felt ridiculous, endless.
Ye aadmi itna shaant kyu rehta hai?
Sharam naam ki cheez sirf mujhe hi mili hai kya?
Desperate to get it over with, Aadhira closed her eyes and pressed a swift peck against Aryav's sharp cheekbone.
Her lips barely brushed his skin.
She retreated so fast she nearly collided with the headboard, her face burning a furious, untamable crimson.
Too late. He had already noticed her hands were shaking.
His pulse never changed.
Hers forgot the meaning of rhythm.
Dimaag: Shaant raho.
Dil: Bilkul nahi.
Dangerous silence filled the gap between them. Aryav lifted a hand, his thumb brushing the place her lips had touched.
Once. Thoughtfully. Like a man memorizing evidence.
"Happy?" Aadhira snapped at her son, her voice a mix of embarrassment and chaotic panic.
Aryav said nothing. His gaze simply dropped back to his device, his silence wrapping around the room like a physical weight.
Ayaan, completely oblivious to the detonation he had just caused, smiled contentedly. "Yes. Goodnight, Mumma. Goodnight, Papa."
Without waiting for a response, the little boy curled tightly into Aadhira's side, closing his eyes.
Aadhira immediately pulled the blankets up to her chin, using Ayaan's small body as a shield between herself and the predator watching her from the dark.
Aryav quietly walked to his side of the bed, picked up his tablet from the nightstand, and lay down.
The glow of the screen illuminated his profile in the dark as he returned to work.
Ayaan was asleep within minutes. As he drifted off, the heavy duvet slipped slightly from his shoulder.
Without looking away from the tablet, Aryav reached over, smoothly pulled the blanket back over the boy, and continued reading.
Aadhira wasn't sleeping. She stared stubbornly at the ceiling.
Aryav continued reading.
Five minutes passed. Ten.
Then-
"You're still awake."
Aadhira closed her eyes tighter.
"I am not sleepy."
Aryav turned another page on the tablet. "You are tired."
Silence.
The tablet glow reflected in his dark eyes.
"Sleep, Aadhira."
Kyu manu aapbaat? Main bilkul nahi-
Darkness.
The next morning arrived far too early for Aadhira's liking.
She sat cross-legged near the window of her room, glaring suspiciously at her phone.
For the past ten minutes, she had been pressing random buttons, adjusting the volume, restarting the device twice, and even tapping it aggressively against her palm.
Nothing worked. The speaker was perfectly fine. The internal earpiece, however, was entirely dead-which meant every single incoming call automatically blasted through speaker mode.
"Wonderful." Aadhira stared at the phone. "First my husband. Now you."
The device remained predictably unbothered. With a dramatic sigh, she tossed it onto the bed.
She would deal with getting it repaired later. Right now, she had to survive breakfast.
The dining hall was already fully occupied when Aadhira arrived, and the atmosphere at the long table looked exactly as intimidating as it always did.
Rajendra Vikram sat at the head, the undisputed anchor of the family dynasty. Mrinalini Devi sat beside him, radiating a sharp, quiet authority.
Lower down the table, Vikrant and Ishaani and roshni were discussing a legal matter in hushed tones, while Aryav sat reading global security intelligence reports on his tablet.
The younger generation occupied the opposite side. Reyansh, Myra, Tara, Arjun, Aarush, ruhi , and Ayaan-chaos efficiently disguised as civilized human beings.