CHAPTER 46! HIS OBSSETION
Vote.
Comments and follow.
By the time the contractions became five minutes apart, the penthouse was already emptying around her.
Orders had been given. Cars were waiting. Within an hour, she was in the private maternity wing of Singhania Medical Center, surrounded by a blur of sterile lights and whispered metrics.
There had been no laboring in the comfort of a home, no hand to hold, no reassuring words.
Only the sharp, rhythmic beep of a fetal monitor and the clinical efficiency of a team paid to deliver a legacy.
For fourteen hours, Aadhira fought the tearing pain.
Aryav never appeared. His signature was already on every consent form, his instructions moving through the ward long before they reached her, his security standing outside the frosted glass doors.
"Push, Ms. Aadhira. One final time," Dr. Mehta's voice cut through the haze of exhaustion.
With a ragged breath, she gathered the last remnants of her strength. The world narrowed to the harsh glare overhead and the agonizing pressure splitting her body apart.
Then he cried.
Aadhira fell back against the pillows, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. For a fraction of a second, warmth bloomed in her chest-the agony faded, replaced by an instinct so primal it terrified her.
"A boy," the nurse murmured, wiping the slick, crying infant.
"Ayaan," Aadhira breathed, the name slipping past her cracked lips. She had whispered it to her stomach for months in the dark corners of the penthouse. Ayaan.
The nurse lifted the baby, wrapping him quickly in a light flannel blanket. As she brought him slightly closer, the baby's tiny fingers stretched out into the cool air, unfurling like petals.
Aadhira tried desperately to draw in a breath, capturing the faint scent of milk and newborn skin before it vanished.
A small, trembling smile broke through her tears.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the nurse said softly, taking a step back. "Baby has to go for routine checks."
"Just one minute... please," Aadhira croaked, her voice fracturing.
"Please... let me hold him once."
"I... I can't," the nurse whispered, lowering her eyes.
"He doesn't even know me yet..." Aadhira begged, her fingers clawing at the stiff hospital sheets as she tried to sit up against the lingering weight of the epidural. "Please... just once."
The heavy, automated doors slid open. A tall silhouette in a dark suit stepped into the frame from the corridor-one of Aryav's security detail.
Without another word, the nurse handed the wrapped infant over.
The doors slid shut. The click of the magnetic lock echoed through the room.
The crying grew quieter down the hall. Then-nothing.
"Take her to recovery," Dr. Mehta said, dropping his stylus into his coat pocket.
Aadhira didn't hear him.
She stared at the blank, frosted glass of the doors, her empty arms trembling against her stomach.
Later, in the quiet of the recovery room, somewhere far down the corridor, another newborn cried.
Warm milk soaked through the thin cotton of her hospital gown before she even realized she was weeping.
Her body still believed her baby was with her.
Three days later, the back door of the Singhania Medical Center opened into the private underground garage.
Aadhira walked slowly, her movements stiff. She wore the same oversized black hoodie she had arrived in.
Kashvi walked a step behind her, carrying a small overnight bag.
Before they reached the vehicle, Kashvi stopped, her expression tightly controlled. "I watched them take him," Kashvi whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry, Aadhira."
Aadhira kept her eyes forward.
"For what?"
"For not stopping them."
Aadhira didn't answer.
A black town car sat waiting, its exhaust whistling quietly in the garage air.
The rear door opened from the inside. Aryav Rai Singhania sat in the shadows of the leather interior, a laptop resting on his thighs.
He didn't offer a hand.
Aadhira climbed into the back seat, keeping close to the door.
The heavy door shut, cutting off the garage, cutting off Kashvi, cutting off everything.
The car climbed into the afternoon light. For ten minutes, the only sound was the light clicking of Aryav's keyboard.
"Mera beta kaha hai?" Aadhira asked quietly.
"The estate," Aryav said without looking up.
"He needs me."
"He has everything he needs."
"Aryav... I'm his mother."
"That changes nothing."
Silence stretched between them.
Aryav stopped typing.
He picked up a small foil packet from the console and handed it to her.
"Doctor prescribed it," he said.
She looked down at the silver label. Lactation suppressants.
Her fingers froze against the plastic.
She didn't open it.
She looked from the packet to his face, but his gaze had already returned to his screen.
"Take care of yourself. Don't overthink," Aryav added quietly as the car turned into the estate gates.
The iron doors closed behind them.
.
.
.
Two months later, the world outside the Rai Singhania estate moved with a normal rhythm.
To anyone looking at her from afar, Aadhira was just a quiet design student carrying a heavy portfolio and wearing comfortable, oversized clothes.
Beneath that ordinary life, she existed like a ghost.
She had found her loophole, and its name was Tara.
"I swear, he's been crying for an hour," Tara sighed, pacing the length of the sunroom inside the massive mansion. She cradled a fussing, red-faced Ayaan, looking exhausted.
"Three nannies in a month. One couldn't calm him, one fed him at the wrong time, and Dadi is going to lose her mind if she hears him."
Aadhira sat on the plush sofa, her heart thumping at the sound of his distress. Weekend study sessions with Tara had become her excuse to spend time in the same room as her son.
"Can I try?" Aadhira asked softly.
"Please," Tara said, transferring the squirming bundle and handing her a folded burp cloth without even thinking about how naturally Aadhira stepped into the space.
The moment Ayaan's weight settled against her chest, the ache inside Aadhira loosened.
She tucked him beneath her chin, swaying in a slow, familiar circle.
"Shh... Meri jaan, shh..." she murmured, resting her cheek against his head.
Within seconds, the baby's sharp cries softened into small gasps. His tiny hand reached out, grabbing onto the loose strings of her gray sweater, curling his fingers tight into the fabric.
He let out a long sigh and buried his face in her neck.
Tara watched in absolute shock.
"Kya kiya tumne?"
Aadhira touched the soft curve of his cheek with her thumb, a small, sad smile touching her lips.
In his corner office at the Rai Singhania headquarters, Aryav sat reviewing financial forecasts.
On his desk, a secondary monitor silently flickered with live security footage from the estate sunroom.
He watched Ayaan fall asleep with his cheek pressed against the gray knit of Aadhira's sweater.
Aryav tapped his intercom.
"Connect me to Dr. Mehta."
A moment later, the line picked up. "Sir?"
"Does he calm down like this with anyone else?" Aryav asked directly.
"No, Mr. Singhania," Dr. Mehta replied.
"Nurses?"
"No."
"Staff?"
"No, sir. Only with Miss Aadhira."
Aryav watched the screen for a second longer, noting how the baby settled instantly when wrapped in her shawl.
"Fine," Aryav said, ending the call before returning to his work.
.
.
.
Five months passed.
The following Saturday, Aadhira sat on the nursery playmat while Tara flipped through design swatch books.
Ayaan was sitting up, surrounded by wooden toys.
The moment Aadhira sat down on the rug, Ayaan dropped his rattle.
He turned, wobbling on his hands and knees, and crawled straight toward her.
He ignored the nannies, ignored Tara, and pulled himself up by holding onto Aadhira's knees.
Aadhira caught him, letting out a soft laugh as he reached up to play with her hair.
Standing quietly near the doorway, Mrinalini Dadi watched the interaction with her hands rested on her silver cane.
"Bacche galat insaan ke paas chain se nahi jate," Mrinalini murmured softly to herself before walking away.
By the time Ayaan turned two, Aadhira was running late.
An exam had run long at the university, and traffic had been terrible.
By the time she rushed into the nursery, Ayaan was screaming, pushing away a bottle offered by the head nurse.
"Sorry... exam got over late," Aadhira said quickly, setting her heavy bag down.
She took the small bowl of warm puree from the nurse's hands and sat beside the high chair. She didn't offer a long explanation. She simply filled the spoon and held it out.
Ayaan hiccuped, wiped his wet nose with his fist, and took the bite immediately. Within ten minutes, the bowl was clean, and his tiny head was resting against her forearm.
From the hallway, Mrinalini saw the empty bowl, turned her cane, and headed downstairs toward her grandson's study.
The study downstairs was quiet.
Mrinalini stepped inside, the soft tap of her cane signaling her arrival.
Aryav didn't look up immediately from his paperwork, though he acknowledged her presence.
"You're still working?" she asked, stopping near the mahogany desk.
"Almost done, Dadi," Aryav replied smoothly.
"Ayaan has already chosen her," Mrinalini said.
Aryav's pen paused.
He looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. "Who?"
Aryav's gaze cooled.
"She leaves for Italy next month."
"Then don't let her leave," Mrinalini replied simply. "Send the proposal."
Aryav capped his pen with a single click. "No."
Mrinalini leaned lightly on her cane, her gaze unyielding. "If you refuse to marry Aadhira, then the family expects you to marry Samaira. Choose."
Aryav's jaw tightened.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
The image from the security feed-Ayaan sleeping soundly with his tiny hands hooked into Aadhira's sweater-flashed across his mind.
Veer Agrawal sat in his study, a document bearing the Rai Singhania seal resting on his desk.