Chapter 42 Because Love Comes with a CV
The hospital lights buzzed softly overhead, sterile and too white.
But Adwait didn't flinch. He sat beside her, still as stone, her hand wrapped in both of his as if she were something breakable and sacred.
Ivikaa's forehead was bandaged now - a thin white strip pressing against skin still too pale. Her lashes trembled in sleep, breath uneven.
He hadn't moved since they brought her in.
Not once.
Then came the shuffle of urgency down the corridor.
Maya appeared first - wide-eyed, clutching her phone like a weapon of faith. Behind her, Olivia. More composed, but her eyes gave her away - stormy and sharp, darting between Iva and Adwait.
And then -
Viren Ambani.
Followed closely by Virya and Vayu, her twin shadows - tall, tense, and visibly rattled.
"Where is she?" Viren's voice cracked the sterile hush. Every word like a verdict.
Adwait stood up instinctively, but he didn't let go of Ivikaa's hand.
Didn't even try.
The doctor arrived like a well-timed breath.
"She's stable," he said calmly. "Mild concussion. Forehead laceration - not deep, but we've stitched and dressed it. No internal trauma. She can be discharged today."
A collective exhale passed through the room.
But still - Ivikaa didn't let go.
Not when her father entered, thunder in his footsteps.
Not when both brothers circled around her, hovering like bodyguards.
Not when Maya's throat bobbed with emotion or when Olivia tilted her head slightly, suspicion flickering behind her lashes.
Ivikaa clutched Adwait's fingers tighter.
They had never seen her like this.
Not her brothers.
Not her father.
Never like this - quiet, grounded, soft - around a man.
??°???°???°???°???°?
The drive was mostly silent, except for the low rumble of the car and the steady rustle of wind outside.
Ivikaa leaned lightly into Adwait's shoulder, her eyes still drowsy from the meds. His hand remained around hers the entire ride - not for show. Just... there. Solid. Steady.
When they pulled up to the mansion gates of Leela Rêve, moonlight pooling across the marble stairs, Ivikaa stirred, barely audible.
"Please take me to my room," she said softly, against his shoulder.
Adwait answered by sliding his arms under her legs and back - wordless, effortless - and lifting her up like he'd done it a hundred times. No flourish. No drama. Just something carved into instinct now.
Olivia watched from the steps. She didn't say anything - but her smile gave her away.
Finally, she understood what this man was.
But for Viren Ambani, and his sons Virya and Vayu - This was not just unfamiliar.
This was seismic.
They stood frozen near the threshold, watching their daughter - their sister - in another man's arms.
Not resisting. Not protesting. Asking.
It wasn't scandal that struck them.
It was the simple, thunderous truth: They didn't know this version of Ivikaa.
Not this tender.
Not this open.
Not this... claimed.
They said nothing.
But their silence roared.
Inside her room, the lights were dim - warm yellow falling over soft linens and the quiet thrum of machines that had now been turned off.
Adwait walked in behind her like a shadow, steady and familiar. He helped her settle into the bed gently, letting the pillows take her weight.
She laughed - a tired, rasping laugh. "That was one hell of a ride." It wasn't a joke, not really, but it made the air feel lighter.
Her hand reached out before he could even step back - fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him down gently.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice suddenly tender.
And before he could answer, she hugged him - arms around his waist, head against his chest like a child needing to make sure the monster under the bed was really gone.
"I was scared," she admitted, muffled against him. "I don't even know what happened. Just that... I'm better now. But-how did you come there? To my office?"
She leaned back slightly to look up at him.
He paused. There was a flicker of something in his expression - not guilt, not secrecy, but a quiet calculation. How much to say?
Then he just smiled, that dimpled smile that hid entire stories between its folds.
"Ivikaa ko kis cheez ki zarurat hai... woh Adwait ko nahi pata hoga, toh kisse hoga?" A shrug. Soft. Unbothered. But it made her blink - because behind that simple line, she knew he'd crossed a hundred boundaries to reach her in time.
["If Adwait doesn't know what Ivikaa needs... then who would?"A shrug. Soft. Unbothered. But it made her blink - because behind that simple line, she knew he'd crossed a hundred boundaries to reach her in time.]
Before she could respond-
"Princess." Her father stood at the door.
Adwait instinctively tried to move away, straightening up, but Ivikaa's grip tightened around his fingers.
She didn't let go.
Viren Ambani entered the room, gaze shifting between the two - not angry.
Just... uncertain. Trying to process what he was seeing. Who he was seeing.
"Main theek hoon, Papa," she said softly, with a small smile. "Adwait ne bacha liya."
["I'm okay, Papa," she said softly, with a small smile."Adwait saved me."]
Viren's expression softened, but his eyes never left Adwait.
"Thank you, beta," he said quietly.
He remembered. Ritika.
And now his own daughter.
Adwait nodded with a small smile, understanding more than words offered.
"Main chalta hoon," he said gently. "Aap inke paas hain ab."
["I'll take your leave," he said gently."You're with her now."]
Ivikaa didn't want him to go. Her fingers lingered. Her breath caught.
But she nodded - a silent promise that this was not the end of the moment.
Adwait stepped out quietly.
Viren came to sit beside her and brushed her hair softly. His voice cracked.
"Jaan nikal di thi meri..."
[I was so scared....]
"Papa... itni chhoti chot ke liye?" she tried to joke. "Aur technical problem toh hote rehte hai lifts mein."
["Papa... for such a small injury?" she tried to joke. "And technical problems happen all the time in lifts."]
She said it lightly - the way adults learn to hide their fears behind convenience.
That's the thing about growing up: you stop telling your parents when it hurts.
Viren chuckled weakly, still shaken. "Meri beti itni fluent Hindi kab se bolne lagi?"
[Viren chuckled weakly, still shaken. "Since when did my daughter start speaking such fluent Hindi?"]
And right on cue, the door burst open.
Olivia, followed by the twins - Virya and Vayu - each carrying equal parts panic and sarcasm.
"What? I'm Indian!" Iva protested. "I know Hindi!"
"Legally, you're French," Vayu said, jumping onto the bed.
"Aah, Parisian Princess got injured," Virya teased, wrapping her in a half-hug and stealing her from their father.
"Shut up," she muttered, burying her smile.
"I must say," Olivia added, folding her arms, "that Adwait guy? Total hero. Saved our girl like a scene out of a movie."
Ivikaa flushed instantly.
"Oh my god, look who's blushing!" Olivia gasped. "That sassy, ruthless Iva? Don't tell me you're dating him?"
Viren straightened immediately. "Olivia, there's nothing like that. Iva is not dating Adwait."
His voice was sharp. Ivikaa's smile faded.
She looked around the room. Her family. Her truth.
And then, she sat up straight - pulled a pillow into her lap like a shield, but her voice didn't waver.
"I want to tell you something." Everyone paused. Eyes on her.
"I and Adwait... we're together."
Silence.
Just air. Still and heavy.
"You're kidding, right?" Virya asked, half-smile on standby.
"No." Flat. Serious. Clear.
"Princess..." Viren stood slowly. "You can't be with him."
"Oh, please, Viren," Olivia rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up. "Let the girl date, marry, or hook up with whoever she wants. And honestly, amazing taste. Gray eyes, dimpled smile, gym body - he looks like he fell out of a damn Versace ad."
"Olivia, it's not about that. He's... uneducated."
Viren said it like a curse.
The air cracked.
Ivikaa recoiled like she'd been slapped.
"Papa. Please." Her voice turned sharp. A warning.
"Papa's right," Virya added. "He's not like us."
Viren raised a hand, calming the room. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."
He kissed Ivikaa's forehead. "For now, sleep, Princess. Please."
The others followed.
One by one, the door clicked shut behind them.
And in the hush of her room, Ivikaa curled under the blanket with a quiet smile.
Adwait hadn't said much today.
But his silence had said everything.
And now, he was everywhere in her -
In her breath.
In her blood.
In her battles.
Even in this silence.
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The soft clinking of cutlery fades as breakfast ends. Plates are cleared. Tea remains untouched on the polished rosewood table. Ivikaa stands by the large arched window, sunlight outlining the bandage on her forehead like a crown of defiance.
Her arms are crossed, but it's not rebellion. It's restraint.
She turns slowly to face them - her father, her twin brothers, and Olivia. Maya sits beside her, quiet but there.
Ivikaa stood by the window, bandaged forehead catching a streak of sunlight. The morning air smelled faintly of sandalwood and jasmine - someone had lit incense in the foyer, maybe Olivia - but inside her chest, something was burning a little sharper.
"I'm going," she said, casually, as she scrolled through her phone.
Virya looked up from his coffee. "Where?"
She didn't blink. "To meet Adwait."
There was a pause. A stretch. Like everyone needed a second to catch up.
"Iva," Viren's voice dropped, stern and controlled, "first of all, you're injured. And second - Adwait saved you, I thanked him. But that doesn't mean you go running after him."
She didn't argue. She just tapped her screen and brought the phone to her ear.
"Can you please come here?" she said, softly.
A beat later, she nodded. "Okay. See you."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Why did you call him?"
"Masi," Ivikaa replied without looking at anyone, "It was about us so he is needed here."
Just then Maya walked in, notebook in hand. The room turned to her like a court witness had entered.
"Maya," Viren said sharply, "did you know about them?"
Maya hesitated, looked at Ivikaa, unsure.
"Papa, usse kyun puchh rahe ho?" Ivikaa interrupted. "Mujhse puchho na. "Her tone wasn't loud. But it was loaded. "Haan. Maya ko pata tha. Pehle din se."
["Papa, why are you asking him?" Ivikaa interrupted."Ask me instead."Her tone wasn't loud, but it was heavy with meaning."Yes. Maya knew. From the very first day."]
"You and Adwait can't be together," Virya snapped, rising to his feet. "Yes, he saved Ritika. He saved you. We're grateful. But this-" He gestured vaguely, dismissively. "This is not happening."
"I thought you'd end up with Rudra," Vayu said bluntly.
Iva blinked. "You thought wrong."
Olivia sighed like someone forced to agree with a funeral priest.
"They're right, Iva darling. Viren told me everything. About him. And you..." She shook her head. "You shouldn't be with Adwait."
There it was again.
That tone.
Like she'd caught a disease. Like loving him was a rebellion instead of a choice.
The hallway echoed faint footsteps.
Adwait was here.
The morning light from the tall windows slanted across his face - half-shadowed, as always. Calm, silent, shoulders held with quiet tension, like he already knew what kind of room he was walking into.
Ivikaa's gaze softened instantly. He didn't look at her, not yet. His eyes found Viren first. A silent nod - respect, acknowledgment, boundary.
Olivia broke the stillness.
"Well, this is awkwardly punctual," she said, rising with a strained smile. Her heels clicked across the floor like gavel strikes. She turned toward Adwait fully now, eyes scanning him up and down - not with admiration this time. With assessment.
"This," she said, gesturing with both hands toward him like she was presenting an exhibit, "this is the man our Paris Princess wants to build her life with?"
Adwait said nothing.
"You know, Iva was the most sought-after designer in Paris. She was the CEO of one of our verticals before she was thirty. Fluent in four languages. Featured in Vogue, Elle, Harper's. Built her own identity - not borrowed, not gifted."
Olivia's voice sharpened as she folded her arms. "And you? No job. No degree. Not even a twelfth pass. Who gives a job to a tenth-grade dropout living off Agnivanshi wealth like a stray they decided to keep?"
A silence bloomed, thick and dry.
Adwait stood unmoved. Expression still. That face - unreadable, unbothered. Only his jaw clenched, just once.
"Olivia," Ivikaa warned, her voice low.
But Viren stepped in, his tone heavier. Controlled, but barbed. "Iva, you need to understand. This isn't about love. This is about life. Society. Position. Name." He turned to Adwait now, each word deliberate. "Who even are you?"
The room was suddenly very quiet.
"Are you Abhay Agnivanshi's son? Or Divya Agnivanshi's mistake? Rudra's brother? Raha's cousin? Devaki and Raghav's orphaned nephew? Ridhima Rajput's charity case?"
Viren's voice cracked slightly, but his pride held steady.
"You have no name of your own. No title. No earning. Nothing. And Iva..." he looked at his daughter, his pride. "She's everything. And people will laugh. At you. At her. At us."
Adwait's fingers were in fists now. But not out of rage. Out of restraint.
His voice, when it came, was low. Dry. Controlled.
"Main kis ghar se hoon... kis rishtedari mein banta hoon... uska koi matlab hota toh shayad Ivikaa mujhe kabhi dekhti bhi nahi."
["If it mattered which family I come from... or what relation I belong to... maybe Ivikaa would have never even looked at me."]
Everyone looked at him now.
"Papa, you're insulting him!" Ivikaa snapped, standing up from the sofa so quickly the cushion toppled over. Her voice cracked. "You think you're protecting me, but all you're doing is tearing him down-like he's nothing."
Viren turned toward her, his own temper barely sheathed now. "Toh kya karun? Ha? Maan loon ki Education Minister ki beti ek uneducated ladke ke saath hai? Kya kahunga main? 'Yeh mera damad hai. Dusvi fail hai, kaam nahi karta, bas zindagi jhel raha hai'?"
["So what am I supposed to do? Admit that the Education Minister's daughter is with an uneducated boy? What will I say? 'This is my son-in-law. He failed tenth grade, doesn't work, just drifts through life'?"]
His voice rose as decades of political pride cracked beneath personal panic.
"Manta hoon... kuch log padhe likhe nahi hote, par kuchh toh kar dikhate hai.
Mere dadaji ne bhi kiya tha. Yeh Ambani empire wahi se aaya hai.
" He jabbed a finger at the air, his voice sharpening.
"Par Adwait? Kya karta hai woh? Kya pehchaan hai uski?
Na naam, na aukaat, na position. Uske ghar mein bhi koi usse nahi poochhta. "
["I admit... some people aren't educated, but some still achieve something.
My grandfather did. That's where the Ambani empire came from.
" He jabbed a finger into the air, voice sharp.
"But Adwait? What does he do? What's his identity?
No name, no status, no position. Even in his own home, no one asks about him. "]
Adwait's body stiffened, but his face? Still. Quietly burning.
"Kya uski maa usko apna beta bhi manti hai?" Viren continued. "Aur Abhay Agnivanshi? Woh toh kisi ko batata bhi nahi ki ek dusra beta bhi hai. Na baat karta hai, na naam leta hai. Jis ghar mein paida hua, wahan bhi paraya hai. Zikr tak nahi karta koi iska."
["Does his mother even accept him as her son?" Viren continued. "And Abhay Agnivanshi? He doesn't even tell anyone he has another son. Doesn't talk about him, doesn't acknowledge his name. The house he was born in treats him like a stranger. Nobody even mentions him."]
The words fell like knives. No one in the room breathed.
Olivia shifted uncomfortably. Even the twins looked unsure now - the cracks in their father's voice weren't rage. They were fear.
Ivikaa's chest heaved.
"Chalo yeh sab chhodo..." Viren's voice was hard now, knuckles whitening around the back of the chair. "Tumhare paas hai bhi kya meri beti ke liye?"
["Let's leave all that aside..." Viren's voice grew hard, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the back of the chair."What do you even have for my daughter?"]
He didn't wait for an answer.
"Princess hai woh meri. Billionaire. Aur tum?" His eyes narrowed. "Agnivanshi property se bhi nikal diya gaya hai tumhe. Rajput property toh tumko charity mein mili hai. Tumhara apna kya hai?"
["She's my princess. A billionaire. And you?" His eyes narrowed sharply."You've been kicked out of the Agnivanshi property. The Rajput property you live on? That's charity. What do you truly own?"]
His voice grew sharper, words slicing clean.
"Meri beti charity pe rahegi?"
["Will my daughter live on charity?"]
"Papa!" Iva's voice cracked with disbelief. "You can't be this harsh to him." Her eyes brimmed, and she stepped forward, catching her father's arm.
But he shook his head. Not in fury - in finality.
"Iva," he said, his tone still measured but stern, "kya tumne kabhi poocha hai usse... ki woh hai kaun?"
["Iva," he said, measured yet stern,"have you ever asked him... who he really is?"]
Adwait was still standing near the entrance. Not a flinch. Not a word. Just... watching.
Viren turned slightly toward him.
"He is just nobody," he said coldly.
And this time, it landed. Not like a slap - no. Like a quiet erasure.
Iva froze, the strength leaving her grip on Viren's sleeve.
"Papa..." her voice dropped, pain now thick in her throat.
Viren looked at Iva, and for a fleeting second, the sass faded from his eyes. His voice, usually sharp with sarcasm, dropped to a softness that only family hears.
"Tum meri aankhon ka wo sapna ho jo main duniya ko dikhakar jeeta tha, Iva... aur tum yeh keh rahi ho ki us sapne ko kisi ke haath mein de du jiske paas khud ke liye bhi koi jagah nahi?"
["You are the dream I lived for, the dream I showed the world through my eyes, Iva... and now you're saying I should hand that dream over to someone who doesn't even have a place for himself?"]
His words weren't loud - but they lingered. Almost like regret whispered through silk.
But Viren wasn't done. His face softened, just a little. Just enough to remind her he was still her father beneath all this fire.
"Agar uske paas... khud ki ek chhoti si dukan bhi hoti," he said, almost wistfully, "main khushi khushi usko tumhare liye accept kar leta. Main tumhara baap hoon, Iva. Tumhari duniya banayi hai maine. Aur iss janam mein... main tumhe uske saath jaane nahi doonga."
["If he had... even a small shop of his own," he said almost wistfully, "I would gladly accept him for you. I am your father, Iva. I have built your world. And in this lifetime... I will not let you go with him."]
He turned to Adwait now, direct, but no longer cruel. Just brutally honest.
"Main tumse nafrat nahi karta, Adwait," he said. "Par ek Education Minister ka damaad... kuchh bhi ho sakta hai-uneducated nahi."
["I do not hate you, Adwait," he said. "But the son-in-law of an Education Minister... can be anything-but uneducated, no."]
And then, like a curtain call, he gave one nod - half respect, half dismissal - and walked out of the room.
"How dare you even think about my Iva?" Olivia snapped, stepping forward, finger pointed like a weapon.
Her voice rang loud, brittle with rage. "I'm sure you must've manipulated her. That's what men like you do, right? Just your luck - beauty, fame, money - all in one package. Jackpot."
Her words hit the room like acid.
Iva's breath caught.
Adwait didn't move. Didn't even blink. He stood there, still as ever - unreadable.
Then he turned to Olivia, tilted his head ever so slightly.
"...Ho gaya?" he asked, quietly. Calm. No edge. No emotion.
["..Done?" he asked, quietly. Calm. No edge. No emotion.]
The silence that followed was loud.
No one expected that tone. No outrage. No defense. Just silence pressed into steel.
He looked at Iva. Just looked - and without a single word, stepped forward and slipped something into her palm.
A flower. Simple. Crushed slightly at the edge. Like it had been held too tightly for too long.
Then he turned. No grand gesture. No last glance.
And walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him, softer than it should've been.
Iva looked down.
The flower was still warm from his hand.
"I'm sorry, Iva. But... Papa and Masi are right.
" Virya's voice wasn't harsh - that somehow made it worse.
It was laced with disappointment, quiet but cutting, like a mirror cracking from within.
He looked at her like he didn't recognize her.
"I just... I expected better," he said, slowly.
"You've always been different, Iva.
Unique. World-class. Your choices - they were bold, they were brilliant.
You were that woman. And now... this? "
Virya ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. His gaze flicked away like he couldn't hold it on her too long.
"Kya socha tha tumne, Iva?" he asked finally. "Hum tumhe dekh ke jeena seekhte hain. As a sister. As a businesswoman. You're the benchmark, you always have been. Privately, professionally, even when we don't say it."
He looked down for a beat, then met her eyes. This time, his voice cracked just a little. "And you chose him? Him? By what logic?"
Silence.
"I still want to believe this is all a prank. That you'll smile in two seconds and say 'Gotcha.' Because that... that would make more sense than this."
Olivia looked at Iva, her voice quieter now - the sharpness stripped away, leaving something raw underneath.
The room, once brimming with voices and judgment and memories sharper than knives, fell utterly silent.
One by one, they had left - Olivia last, her hand lingering on the doorframe just a second too long, eyes still wet, jaw clenched. She didn't say another word.
And then, it was just Iva.
Still.
Alone.
The weight of silence pressed against her chest harder than any accusation had. Her fingers were curled around the flower Adwait had slipped into her palm - soft, unbruised, defiant in its quiet.
She looked down at it.
Like him, it hadn't said much.
But it had stayed.
"Well," she muttered, "at least one of us had the decency to stay soft."
Some men leave you on read. hers left her with a rose. Progress?
? ? ?