Hey guys this is your author ...

Hope you all are doing great soo I'm starting the story with a cute yet an entertainment chapter i hope you guys will like it and make sure to comment down after reading so I can work on things better next time soooo HERE IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF YOUR BOOK : HIS KITTEN ❤️

Conflict (The "Grumpy" Gap)

​In this version of the story, the conflict is even more heartwarming. Shivank feels like he is the only "serious" person left in the house. He comes home from a day of firing people and making millions, only to find his father, mother, and wife having a flour fight in the kitchen or watching a romantic comedy together.

​He acts annoyed, but deep down, seeing his sweet parents embrace his "clumsy" wife is the only thing that keeps him sane. .......

​The heavy oak doors of the Rathore mansion swung open. Shivank stepped in, his face a mask of exhaustion and irritation. He had just closed a 500-crore deal, but his head was throbbing.

​ "I want silence," he barked at the butler. "No guests, no noise, and tell my wife—"

​CRASH!

​A loud thud echoed from the living room, followed by peals of laughter. Shivank stormed into the room to find Aanvi tangled in a pile of knitting yarn on the floor. Standing over her were Gayatri and Digvijay, clutching their stomachs from laughing so hard.

​"Aanvi-beta! You’ve managed to knit yourself into a sweater without even using needles!" Digvijay chuckled, reaching down to help her up.

​"I'm so sorry, Papa-ji," Aanvi squeaked, her face turning beet red. "I just... the cat ran by, and I tripped, and then..."

​"Shivank! You’re home!" Gayatri smiled warmly, ignoring her son's dark expression. "Come here, give your wife a hand. She’s had a very 'productive' afternoon."

​Shivank looked at the chaos—the yarn, his laughing parents, and his blushing, clumsy wife. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to demand his silent, perfect house back. But as his eyes met Aanvi’s wide, innocent ones, his grip on his briefcase loosened.

​"Unbelievable," he muttered, though the edge in his voice was gone. He walked over, knelt in the mess of yarn, and began untangling her. "Only you, Aanvi. Only you.

"Shivank’s fingers moved with surgical precision as he cut through the tangled web of wool. The "mercenary of the corporate world" was currently performing a rescue mission for a ball of yarn.

"You're late, Shivank," Digvijay said, leaning back in his armchair with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Aanvi made sugar-free cookies for you. Well, she made forty. We’ve eaten thirty-eight because you weren't here to claim them."

"They were a little... crunchy," Gayatri added with a gentle wink at Aanvi. "But the effort was delicious."

Aanvi looked down at her lap, her fingers twisting the hem of her cotton kurta. "I'm sorry, Shivank. I know you like things orderly. I didn't mean to turn the living room into a craft store."

Shivank finally freed her ankle from a stubborn knot. He stood up, towering over her, his shadow swallowing her small frame. The room went quiet, waiting for the lecture they knew he was capable of. His eyes scanned her—from her messy hair to the smudge of flour still on her cheek from the earlier baking disaster.

"The cookies were probably a fire hazard," Shivank said, his voice deep and raspy. He reached out, and for a second, Aanvi flinched, thinking he was going to point at the mess. Instead, his thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away the flour. The touch was so light, so uncharacteristically tender, that Gayatri and Digvijay exchanged a knowing look behind his back.

"Go wash up," he commanded, though the 'command' sounded more like an invitation to escape his own intensity. "And Aanvi?"

She looked up, eyes wide. "Yes?"

"Don't knit anymore. I’d rather not come home to find you suspended from the chandelier."

Kavya, who had just walked in with a shopping bag, burst out laughing. "No promises, Bhai! Tomorrow I’m teaching her how to paint. With oils!"

Shivank groaned, rubbing his temples. "God help my white walls."

As Aanvi scurried away toward the stairs—nearly tripping on the first step before catching the railing—Shivank’s gaze followed her until she disappeared around the corner. Only then did he turn to his parents, his face returning to its usual stoic mask.

"She’s going to break something expensive, Dad," Shivank muttered, picking up his briefcase.

Digvijay laughed, a deep sound that filled the room. "She already has, son. She’s broken that icy silence you used to live in. And look at you—you’re not even shouting."

Shivank didn't reply. He couldn't. Because as he walked toward his study, he realized his heart was beating at a rhythm that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the clumsy girl currently splashing water upstairs.......

Continue.........

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