41. Something else or regression?

Niharika stared at her phone, the call with Shivaay still replaying in her mind. She couldn’t understand what had just happened. Why had he called her out of the blue like that? Why did he sound so... different?

She sat down on the edge of her bed, her brows furrowing as her thoughts raced. Why is he doing this? she wondered. He barely spoke to me before, always cold and distant. And now he calls just to hear my voice? What does he even want from me?

Her hand tightened around her phone as conflicting emotions bubbled within her. Part of her wanted to believe there was sincerity in his tone, that he genuinely cared. But another part—the one that remembered every harsh word, every moment of rejection—warned her not to fall into the trap of false hope.

"This doesn’t make any sense," she muttered to herself. "He’s Shivaay Singh Ranawat. He doesn’t do things without a reason."

Yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that his actions were calculated or had some hidden motive, she couldn’t shake the warmth in his voice when he’d said he missed home. There was something real in that moment, something that made her heart ache in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.

She sighed, brushing her hair back from her face. "Focus, Niharika," she told herself firmly. "You have your own life to figure out. Don’t let him get into your head."

But even as she tried to push the thoughts away, his voice lingered in her mind, soft and unguarded. For the first time, Shivaay had felt... human to her. And it scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Niharika leaned back against the headboard, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the bedsheet. Her mind replayed Shivaay’s call, his hesitant tone, and the way he seemed to pause before speaking, as if weighing every word carefully. It was so unlike the authoritative, unyielding Shivaay Singh Ranawat she knew.

She frowned, her thoughts growing restless. What was that about? Was it something else entirely? Or… was it regret?

The possibility struck her like a bolt of lightning, leaving her breathless. Could he actually regret the way he had treated her? Could this be his way of extending some sort of olive branch, an attempt at making amends?

But just as quickly as the thought came, she dismissed it with a bitter scoff. No, people like him don’t regret. They don’t look back. He’s too proud, too distant.

And yet... there was a flicker of doubt, a whisper of vulnerability in his voice that wouldn’t let her brush it off entirely. She closed her eyes, frustration bubbling up within her.

"What does he even want?" she murmured aloud, her voice echoing softly in the room. "Why does he keep showing up in my thoughts like this?"

Her heart felt heavy as she sat there, torn between anger and confusion. If it was regret, why wouldn’t he just admit it? Why was he hiding behind cryptic calls and unspoken words?

And if it wasn’t regret… then what?

Niharika sighed, shaking her head. "Whatever it is, I can’t let it mess with me. I’ve been through too much already."

But even as she said the words, her heart refused to stop questioning, refused to stop hoping for something she couldn’t quite name.

Niharika came downstairs, tying her dupatta properly as she approached the kitchen. The servant had just arrived with a bag of vegetables, and she immediately noticed something was off. She crouched down and began inspecting the items one by one.

Picking up a tomato, she frowned. “These don’t look fresh at all. And how much did you say these are for?”

The servant hesitated for a moment before replying, “50 rupees per kilogram, ma’am.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Fifty? Do you think I don’t know the market rates? Tomatoes are 30 rupees per kilogram. Where did you even buy these from?”

The servant looked down, mumbling something about a vendor near the main road. Niharika sighed in frustration and moved on to the next item—potatoes. She picked one up and gave it a scrutinizing glance.

“And these? How much for the potatoes?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Thirty rupees per kilogram,” the servant replied.

Niharika’s brow furrowed further as she shook her head. “Thirty? Potatoes are 15 rupees per kilogram in the local market. You’re either being overcharged or you’re not bargaining properly.”

The servant gulped, clearly caught off guard by her sharp observation.

Niharika stood up, brushing her hands clean. “Look, I understand that vendors can be tricky, but you need to be more vigilant. We can’t afford to waste money like this. Go back to the market and get fresh vegetables at the right price. If they refuse, go to another vendor. And don’t pay a rupee more than necessary.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the servant stammered, gathering the bag and heading toward the door.

Niharika watched him leave, her hands on her hips. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her frustration. This household had standards to maintain, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of them.

Running a household efficiently is no less than managing an empire, she thought to herself, shaking her head before heading back to the kitchen to oversee the other tasks.

Niharika glanced at the servant with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, you know what? Next time, I’ll come with you. Let’s make sure we’re getting good quality and fair prices.”

The servant nodded hesitantly, but before he could respond, Riya walked in, her voice ringing with mock disapproval. “Oh, Bhabhi! Where are you hitting your head? Vegetables? Really?”

Niharika turned to face her, puzzled. “What’s wrong with making sure the kitchen is stocked properly, Riya?”

Riya let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as if Niharika had committed a grave error. “Bhabhi, these are just vegetables. Queens do not bother themselves with grocery shopping!”

Niharika chuckled softly. “And what, pray tell, does a queen do then?”

With a gleam in her eye, Riya grinned and stepped closer. “Jewellery shopping, Bhabhi! That’s what suits a queen! Sparkling diamonds, dazzling gold sets, magnificent bangles... not tomatoes and potatoes.”

Niharika burst into laughter. “You and your love for jewellery, Riya. Not everyone is as obsessed as you.”

Riya crossed her arms with a playful pout. “Maybe not, but you’re a Ranawat Bahu. You should leave the boring stuff to the servants and focus on shining brighter than the jewels you wear!”

Niharika shook her head, still smiling. “Alright, Miss Jewel Enthusiast. But someone needs to keep this household running, you know?”

Riya linked her arm with Niharika’s, dragging her away from the vegetables. “Well, then, let me at least make sure you look like royalty while you do it. Let’s plan a jewellery shopping spree soon!”

Niharika smiled warmly, amused by Riya’s antics but secretly enjoying the lighter moment.

Riya came back to her room after her conversation with Niharika in the kitchen. She plopped onto her bed and immediately dialed Shivaay's number.

"Yes, Riya?" Shivaay's calm voice answered after a few rings.

"Mission accomplished, Bhai," Riya said with a grin. "I planted the idea perfectly. Bhabhi agreed to come jewellery shopping with me tomorrow."

"Good," Shivaay replied, his voice laced with approval. "But what happened? Did she agree easily?"

"Well, not exactly," Riya chuckled. "I overheard her arguing with the servant over vegetable prices—something about tomatoes and potatoes. Can you believe that? The Ranawat bahu worried about vegetables!"

Shivaay let out a soft laugh. "That sounds like her. Always focused on every little detail."

"Exactly!" Riya agreed. "So, I swooped in and told her queens don’t bargain over veggies—they shop for jewellery. At first, she hesitated, but I convinced her by saying I needed her opinion. Worked like a charm!"

"Good job," Shivaay said, sounding genuinely impressed. "Make sure she picks something she likes. Don’t let her settle for anything less."

"Don’t worry, Bhai," Riya reassured. "I’ll handle it. But you owe me for this one. Maybe a new handbag?"

Shivaay chuckled. "Fine, Riya. You’ll get your handbag."

"That’s all I needed to hear!" she said, grinning. "Alright, I’ll call you after our shopping trip tomorrow."

"Thanks, Riya," Shivaay said sincerely before ending the call.

Riya smiled to herself. She loved playing the middlewoman in this silent, unspoken connection between Shivaay and Niharika. Little did Niharika know that her husband was the mastermind behind the upcoming outing.

Shivaay sat in his office, his eyes lost in thought, staring out at the sprawling cityscape. The hum of the office around him felt distant, like a dull echo, as he wrestled with his emotions. His mind replayed the many mistakes he had made, especially with Niharika. There had been so many moments when he had failed her—when he had been too harsh, too cold, too focused on his own pride to see the pain he had caused her.

Time has changed, so have I, Shivaay thought to himself, his hands gripping the edges of the desk as if trying to anchor himself to the present. The reality of it all hit him hard. He had taken her for granted, misjudged her, and assumed she would always be there. But now, after everything that had happened, he realized how wrong he had been. The guilt of his actions weighed on him like an anchor, pulling him down into regret.

Niharika—her kindness, her patience, her strength—was everything he had overlooked. And now, sitting in his office, he knew he had to make things right. I need to fix this. For her. For us, he thought resolutely. She deserves so much more than what I gave her.

But as his thoughts lingered on Niharika, the image of Kanishk Verma surfaced. The way that man had dared to touch his wife, to make her feel uncomfortable—it sent a wave of fury through him. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the anger boiled beneath the surface. How dare he? Shivaay seethed. Touch my wife like that... The thought alone was enough to ignite a fire within him. Kanishk had crossed a line, and Shivaay wouldn’t let him get away with it.

A flash of anger burned in his chest. The notion that anyone—especially a man like Kanishk—could think they could lay a hand on Niharika, without consequence, enraged him to the core. I’ll make sure he never dares to do something like that again, Shivaay vowed. No one gets away with touching what's mine.

His pulse quickened, and he stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He paced the length of his office, his thoughts racing. First things first, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath to calm the storm inside. I need to fix things with Niharika. That was his priority now. I need her to know that I’ve changed—that I see her for who she truly is. I want to make it up to her. For me. For us.

He had been blind, too focused on his empire, his business, his family’s expectations. But now, with all the time in the world to reflect, he understood the importance of Niharika. She wasn’t just his wife; she was his partner, his equal, and he had failed to cherish her as such. I will make her feel valued. I’ll show her she means the world to me.

He took another steadying breath. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but it was the right one. I’ve got a lot to make up for, he thought. But I’ll do whatever it takes.

As Shivaay moved toward the door, his mind shifted again, this time focused on the matter of Kanishk. He couldn’t let him off the hook. He’d already allowed too many things to slide in the past—this was different. This time, he wouldn’t back down. I’ll handle Kanishk, and when I do, he’ll regret ever laying a hand on Niharika.

The door to his office clicked shut behind him, but in his heart, Shivaay knew he was stepping into a new chapter. One where he would fight for the woman he loved, and protect her from anyone who dared to threaten her happiness.

He had changed. And now, he would do whatever it took to prove it—to make things right with Niharika, and to protect her from anyone who ever tried to hurt her again.