CHAPTER 54! HIS LITTLE BOY #2
"Good," Vivaan whispered, his thumb lightly brushing a stray tear from her cheek.
"Let's make sure I never have to remember his name again."
Kashvi stared at him. There was no fear in her expression-only warmth and complete relief.
Vivaan noticed the shift. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm allowed to."
One corner of his mouth lifted. "Apparently."
Her fingers tightened around his shirt. She didn't offer another explanation. Rising onto her toes, she closed the distance and kissed him.
For one stunned, frozen second, Vivaan didn't move. Then, a low rumble sounded in his chest.
His hand slid firmly down to the small of her back, pulling her tightly against him as he tilted his head and kissed her back with a fierce, starving intensity.
When Kashvi finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Vivaan looked down at her. A faint, almost disbelieving smile touched his lips.
"They're better than I imagined."
"What?"
"Your lips."
Her cheeks burned. "Vivaan!"
A quiet, rare smile broke across his face-one that belonged entirely to her.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, at the Singhania mansion, the night had settled into an unnatural stillness.
Aryav sat on the edge of his bed. His laptop had been closed for several minutes, but he hadn't moved.
His red, sleep-deprived eyes remained fixed on the empty side of the mattress.
Slowly, his fingers reached out and brushed against the fabric. Cold. No warmth.
No trace of her presence.
Yet he could remember exactly how she used to sleep-always closer to the edge, always stealing more of the blanket than she needed, always complaining when he pulled her back across the invisible line between them.
And always, without fail, softening against his chest the moment she fell deeply asleep.
Aryav closed his eyes. He could almost feel her there-her head settled beneath his chin, the faint scent of her shampoo filling his senses, her body warm against his.
He had spent months pretending those moments meant nothing, refusing to admit that her rhythmic breathing was the only thing that ever convinced his mind it was safe enough to sleep.
His eyes snapped open. The room was empty.
"You left," he whispered. His throat tightened, his voice sounding strange and hollow in the silent space.
"And somehow you took my sleep with you."
His gaze drifted toward the nightstand. The lower cabinet remained shut. He stared at it for a long, heavy moment.
He leaned forward, opened the cabinet, and pulled out the pre-filled syringe.
Without hesitation or emotion, he administered the medication into his arm, tossing the empty plastic aside.
He lay back against the stark white pillows, turning his head toward the empty sheet beside him.
His hand reached out once more, finding only cold cotton.
He closed his eyes as the drug began to pull him under, finally understanding the cruelest part of losing someone.
It wasn't waking up without them.
It was remembering exactly how they used to make you sleep.
The final bell rang through the school corridors.
Within minutes, the gates were crowded with parents, drivers, school buses, and black cars idling beneath the afternoon heat.
Children spilled through the entrance in noisy groups, their voices overlapping beneath the shrill calls of guards and the impatient honking of traffic.
Ayaan came through the gates more slowly than the others.
His backpack hung heavily off one shoulder. His tie was crooked, and a faint streak of white chalk ran near the knee of his dark school trousers.
He looked tired-the quiet fatigue that settles on a child at the end of a long week.
The moment his eyes found the black SUV waiting near the curb, his posture shifted.
The rear door clicked and opened from the inside.
"Get in."
Ayaan scrambled inside, his small shoes thumping against the floor mat.
"Vivaan uncle."
Vivaan waited until the boy had settled before reaching over to pull the door shut.
He watched him through the rear-view mirror as Ayaan silently struggled with the heavy seat belt buckle.
"Where's Vaani?" Vivaan asked, shifting into gear.
"Kashvi aunty picked her up."
"Why you didn't go with her?"
"I want to come with you."
Vivaan pulled the SUV smoothly into the flow of afternoon traffic.
For the first few minutes, Ayaan remained unusually quiet, resting his chin near the window frame as the city passed by.
Vivaan noticed the silence, but he didn't force a conversation. He simply kept his eyes on the road.
"Uncle," Ayaan spoke up softly.
Vivaan's gaze flicked to the mirror.
"Yes?"
"Can we go somewhere else today?"
"Where?"
Ayaan hesitated, his fingers twisting the edge of his shirt sleeve.
"Papa's office."
"That's by you didn't go with kashvi, Your father is working."
"I know."
"Then why do you want to go there?"
Ayaan looked down at his lap.
"I miss him."
Vivaan's hands remained steady on the steering wheel. He didn't offer gentle reassurances or lecture the boy on boundaries.
He paused for a single second, then clicked the indicator. The SUV changed lanes, heading toward the financial district.
"...Fine," Vivaan said, his tone clipped.
Ayaan looked up, catching Vivaan's eye in the glass. "Really?"
"Don't make me regret it."
A small, genuine smile touched Ayaan's face. "I won't."
"I've heard that before."
"I won't this time."
The Singhania headquarters rose above the commercial district like a blade of dark glass against the pale sky.
The moment Vivaan's vehicle entered the private underground ramp, security personnel straightened instantly.
The heavy automatic barriers lifted without hesitation. No one stopped Vivaan. No one ever did.
Ayaan followed closely behind him through the private elevator lobby, his small shoes clicking against polished marble. When the doors opened on the executive floor, the air was cool and still.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the primary boardroom, executives sat around a massive table.
Aryav was at the head of it.
Ayaan's gaze anchored onto him immediately. "Papa's there?"
Vivaan glanced through the glass.
"He's in a meeting."
Ayaan nodded, stepping back slightly. "Then I'll wait."
"You're not going to interrupt him?"
"No. I promise."
Vivaan keycarded the lock to Aryav's private office door.
"Come."
They stepped into the massive suite. Vivaan set Ayaan's heavy school bag beside the leather sofa and retrieved a cold bottle of water from the small fridge, handing it over.
"Your father will come when he's finished."
Ayaan took a sip. "Okay."
"And don't touch anything on the desk."
"I won't."
Vivaan checked his watch.
"He'll be a while. Read your book."
Ayaan let out a small sigh, but sat on the sofa and opened his reader. Vivaan closed the door behind him without another word.
Almost an hour passed.
Inside the boardroom, Aryav listened to a senior analyst explain financial projections that had already been laid out twice in the briefing packet.
His expression remained an unreadable mask of cold authority.
"Again," Aryav commanded quietly.
"Sir, the northern shipment metrics-"
Aryav's personal phone vibrated once on the wood surface. A short text from Vivaan. He didn't open it.
"I am listening," Aryav said.
Fifteen minutes later, Aryav closed the heavy leather file in front of him with an unhurried motion.
"Enough. Send the revised figures to my desk by eight tomorrow."
He stood. The meeting was over; no one dared linger.
He walked out of the boardroom, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he keyed open the double doors to his private office.
He stopped.
Ayaan was asleep on the expansive leather sofa.
His school bag lay dumped on the floor, his shoes still tied to his feet.
An open book rested upside down against his chest, one finger trapped between the pages where sleep had caught him mid-sentence.
Aryav walked over, his footsteps silent against the plush carpet.
As he stood over him, Ayaan stirred. Dark lashes fluttered, squinting against the office lighting.
"Papa."
Aryav bent down, slipping one broad arm behind Ayaan's back and the other beneath his knees, lifting him effortlessly.
Ayaan wrapped both arms tightly around his father's neck, burying his face into the crook of Aryav's collar.
"You came," Ayaan mumbled into his suit jacket. "I missed you, Papa."
Aryav absorbed the weight of his son against his chest, his hand settling over the back of the boy's head.
"I missed you too."
He carried him over to his heavy executive chair, sitting down and keeping Ayaan firmly on his lap.
He reached out with his free hand, silently adjusting Ayaan's crooked tie and smoothing down his hair.
"Why are you here?" Aryav asked quietly.
Ayaan blinked sleepily, then squirmed.
"Papa, Put me down."
Aryav raised an eyebrow.
"You show up at my office and now you're giving me orders?"
"I need to give you something."
Aryav set him on his feet. Ayaan ran over to his school bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a small steel lunchbox.