23. Shivaay's Dilemma

In his expansive, meticulously organized office, Shivaay sat at his desk, his fingers drumming on the polished surface as he waited for the foreign clients to arrive. The room, adorned with sleek furnishings and an air of authority, felt stifling at the moment. His mind refused to settle on the presentation or the numbers. Instead, it was consumed by a single question: Who was he to her?

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the intricate ceiling design but seeing nothing. What exactly was their relationship? He was her husband by name and law, yes. But did that give him the right to know everything about her? To question every interaction she had, every phone call she made?

He thought back to the morning—the way she had smiled as she picked up the phone, her soft voice saying “love you, miss you” to someone named "Love💕💕." The words played over and over in his mind like a haunting melody. It wasn’t jealousy; at least, that’s what he told himself. No, it was something deeper.

Why does she have that happiness, that freedom, with someone else?

He clenched his fists tightly. Wasn’t he supposed to be the center of her world now? He shook his head. It wasn’t about control—it couldn’t be. Yet, the idea of someone else being that important to her left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling him out of his spiral of thoughts. He glanced at it, but the name on the screen didn’t matter. The meeting was approaching, but his mind refused to shift gears.

Who was she really, beyond the woman who quietly carried the Ranawat name?

The question lingered in the air, heavy and unanswered, as the seconds ticked closer to the arrival of the clients. For the first time in his life, Shivaay Singh Ranawat felt powerless—not against his rivals, not against fate, but against a woman he didn’t even understand.

Shivaay sat upright, his jaw tightening as he muttered under his breath, "I need to know about him." The words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore.

The morning's events replayed in his mind—the phone call, the smile on her lips, the softness in her tone when she said, "love you, miss you." The memory sent a wave of frustration through him.

Who was this ‘Love’?

He couldn’t focus. The perfectly laid-out files on his desk blurred into insignificance. His mind was a battlefield, torn between anger, curiosity, and something he refused to name—hurt.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His instinct was to order someone to find out. He had the resources, the power to uncover anything. A simple investigation would reveal the truth. Yet, a small voice in his mind stopped him.

What if it’s someone she truly cares about? What if she’s hiding a part of her life from me because she doesn’t trust me?

The thought unsettled him. He clenched his phone tightly.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I am her husband. I have every right to know."

Yet, deep down, he knew this wasn’t about rights. It was about understanding her—something he’d never tried to do before.

Why does she matter this much to me?

The door to his office opened slightly, his assistant peeking in. “Sir, the clients will be here in 20 minutes. Shall I prepare the conference room?”

Shivaay nodded curtly, forcing his expression back to its usual calm. “Yes, make sure everything is ready.”

As the door closed, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling once more.

“I will find out,” he whispered to himself, his voice resolute. “Who he is… and what she’s hiding from me.”

The foreign client arrived precisely on time, their polished demeanor and warm smiles setting the tone for the meeting. Shivaay stood from his chair, his expression transitioning into one of composed professionalism. He extended his hand to greet them.

“Welcome to Jaipur,” he said, his voice steady, masking the storm of thoughts brewing within him.

The clients exchanged pleasantries, expressing their admiration for the heritage and grandeur of the city. Shivaay led them to the conference room, where his team was already prepared with detailed presentations and portfolios.

The meeting commenced seamlessly, with Shivaay guiding the discussion like the seasoned businessman he was. Despite his internal turmoil, his focus didn’t falter. The clients were impressed by the strategic plans laid out, nodding in agreement at every key point.

“Mr. Ranawat,” one of the clients remarked during a break, “your vision for this partnership is exceptional. We’re confident this will be mutually beneficial.”

Shivaay gave a slight smile. “I believe in ensuring success for all parties involved. Jaipur’s reputation stands as a testament to hard work and dedication.”

The meeting concluded after two hours, the clients expressing their satisfaction with the discussions. They shook hands with Shivaay before leaving, commending his leadership and vision.

Once the door closed behind them, Shivaay let out a silent sigh of relief. His work persona had been flawless, as always. But now, with the meeting over, the thoughts he had suppressed all morning came rushing back.

He loosened his tie, his mind circling back to Niharika and the mysterious person she had spoken to. The professional success of the morning was overshadowed by the personal puzzle he couldn’t ignore.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered to himself, determination gleaming in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

The deal was successfully sealed, bringing a sense of accomplishment to the office. Shivaay’s team was overjoyed, exchanging congratulatory smiles and handshakes. However, amidst the celebration, Shivaay himself remained unusually detached, lost in thought.

As he walked back to his cabin, he reflected on the past few hours. The deal is done. Everything went smoothly. Yet, the gnawing feeling of dissatisfaction lingered. Something was amiss—not with work, but within him.

Sitting in his chair, he gazed out of the large glass window of his office. The sprawling city below was alive with movement, a stark contrast to his internal turmoil. He tapped his pen lightly on the table, his mind replaying the morning's events.

Her voice, her smile, the words she had spoken on the call—they were all etched in his memory. Who is ‘Love’? he questioned again, frustration bubbling up. The cold, logical part of him argued that it was none of his business. But his heart refused to let it go.

For years, he had been detached, keeping everyone at arm’s length, but Niharika had slowly broken through that wall, stirring emotions he had long buried. And now, the thought of someone else being close to her, someone she called "Love," unsettled him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“This isn’t me,” he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. He prided himself on his control, but this situation was different. It felt personal. Too personal.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Despite the victory in the boardroom, he felt defeated in his thoughts.

"I need to know," he muttered, the resolve hardening in his eyes. Determined to uncover the truth, he pushed away his unease and began strategizing his next move—because Shivaay Singh Ranawat never left a mystery unsolved.

At home, Niharika tried to focus on her chores, but her mind kept drifting back to the events of the previous night. The anger, the humiliation, and the pain in Shivaay’s eyes—all of it played on a loop in her head.

She folded the washed clothes with care, placing each neatly in its respective pile. But her hands trembled slightly, her mind too clouded with emotions. She sighed, sitting down for a moment, her fingers unconsciously tracing the delicate embroidery on the hem of her dupatta.

"Why did he behave like that? What did I do to deserve such treatment?" she thought. It wasn’t just his words or his actions that hurt her; it was the way he looked at her, as though she was a stranger.

Her gaze shifted to her wrists, where the red bangles glimmered faintly in the sunlight streaming through the window. These were the same hands he had gripped tightly, the marks invisible now but still lingering in her heart.

Niharika closed her eyes, resting her head on her knees. She wanted to understand him—why he was so harsh, why he seemed to carry such pain and anger within him. Was it something she did? Or was it something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share?

She shook her head, trying to push away the thoughts. “No, I shouldn’t let this get to me,” she whispered to herself, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. She had resolved to focus on her duties, to fulfill her responsibilities no matter what.

But as she began preparing lunch, her hands moved automatically, her mind once again clouded with the memory of his stormy gaze. She couldn’t help but wonder: Was there even a way to bridge the chasm between them?

As Niharika stood by the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables, she heard the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the windowpane. Intrigued, she looked up and saw the rain falling steadily, painting the world outside in shades of grey and green.

For a moment, the heaviness in her heart lifted. A small smile tugged at her lips, unbidden yet comforting. The rain had always been special to her—a reminder of simpler times, of childhood moments spent playing outside, letting the cool droplets wash away every worry.

Leaving her work momentarily, she walked toward the balcony. The fresh scent of wet earth greeted her, and the rhythmic sound of the rain calmed her restless mind. Standing there, she extended her hand, letting the cold drops kiss her fingertips.

Her smile grew wider as she closed her eyes, savoring the moment. For the first time since last night, she felt a sliver of peace. It was as if the rain was whispering to her, telling her to let go of her worries, if only for a while.

But as she stood there, lost in the serenity of the rain, her thoughts drifted back to Shivaay. She wondered where he was, if he had eaten properly, or if he even noticed the beauty of the rain. Would he be angry if he saw her like this—stealing a moment of joy amidst the storm brewing between them?

With a soft sigh, Niharika turned back toward the kitchen, her smile lingering faintly. She decided she wouldn’t let her sorrow overshadow the beauty around her. The rain reminded her that even after the darkest clouds, there was always a chance for renewal—a thought that gave her strength as she returned to her work.

As Niharika was finishing up in the kitchen, the sound of the front door opening caught her attention. Moments later, Shweta and Anita entered, carrying shopping bags and chatting animatedly.

"Niharika!" Shweta called out cheerfully, her voice echoing through the quiet house. "We’re back!"

Anita followed close behind, her sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on Niharika. "What’s that smell? Oh, you’ve been cooking, haven’t you? It’s always nice to come home to the aroma of home-cooked food."

Niharika wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out to greet them. “Welcome back, Maa sa, Chachi sa. Did you both find everything you needed?” she asked softly, her smile polite and warm.

Shweta placed the bags on the couch and nodded, a pleased expression on her face. "Yes, the market was bustling, but we managed to get everything. You should’ve come with us. It would’ve been a good break for you."

Niharika shook her head gently. “I had some work to finish here.”

Anita, ever observant, glanced at her face and raised an eyebrow. "You look pale. Are you feeling alright, Niharika?"

"I’m fine, Chachi sa," Niharika replied quickly, not wanting to bring up the turmoil of the previous night. She busied herself arranging the shopping bags to avoid any further questions.

Shweta, noticing her deflection, placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been doing a lot, beta. Don’t overwork yourself. Remember, this house runs because of you, but you’re not alone.”

The sincerity in Shweta’s tone made Niharika’s heart swell, but she merely nodded, grateful for the support. Anita, however, had already started inspecting the kitchen, critiquing the arrangement as was her habit.

"Anita, leave her alone. You’ve just come back, and already you’re finding faults!" Shweta scolded lightly, shaking her head.

Anita clicked her tongue but let it go, returning to the living room with Shweta. "Fine, fine. But make sure she eats properly. Girls these days think skipping meals will solve their problems."

Niharika smiled faintly at their banter. As they settled into their routine, the warmth of their return seemed to brighten the house a little, momentarily distracting her from her inner turmoil.