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The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden stripes across the bed. Shivank was still deep in sleep—a rare occurrence for a man who usually woke up with the precision of a Swiss watch. The "Strict CEO" looked younger in his sleep, his brow finally unfurrowed.

Aanvi, however, was wide awake. Her "baby nature" had transitioned into a "mission mode."

“I have to be a proper wife today,” she whispered to her teddy bear. “No more being a burden. I will make him the best coffee he’s ever had.”

She carefully peeled back the heavy duvet, trying not to disturb the arm Shivank had draped possessively over her waist. With the stealth of a clumsy ninja, she slid her good foot to the floor. When her injured ankle touched the carpet, a sharp twinge shot up her leg.

"Ouchie..." she hissed, biting her lip to keep from yelping.

She grabbed the edge of the nightstand, then the armchair, and finally the door handle, hopping on one foot like a determined little bird. She managed to make it to the door and crack it open, but just as she was about to make her "breakout," a low, sleep-roughened voice rumbled from the bed.

"And just where do you think you're going, little bird?"

Aanvi froze, her hand still on the doorframe. She slowly turned around to see Shivank propped up on one elbow. His hair was a chaotic mess, his shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were narrowed in that "Strict CEO" glare—though it was slightly undermined by the fact that he was currently hugging the pillow she had just vacated.

"I... I was going to the kitchen!" she squeaked, trying to stand perfectly still on one leg.

"To do what? Hop into a frying pan?" Shivank sat up, the sheets falling to his waist. He looked at her precarious position and his face darkened. "Aanvi, I told you: bed. rest. Which part of those two very simple words did you not understand?"

"The 'rest' part!" she pouted, her "stubborn" side kicking in. "I wanted to make you coffee! You always do everything for me. I wanted to be useful."

Shivank was out of bed in a second. He didn't even put on his slippers. He strode across the room and, before she could protest, scooped her up into his arms.

"You are useful when you are healing," he muttered, carrying her back to the bed and tucking her in with such force it was almost comical. "You making coffee ends in one of two ways: you falling, or the kitchen burning down. Neither of those helps my morning."

"You're just being a grumpy giant," Aanvi grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Shivank leaned over her, his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her against the pillows. His face was inches from hers, and the scent of morning and warmth was intoxicating.

"I am a grumpy giant who hasn't had his caffeine yet," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. "And since my wife decided to try and escape, I think I deserve a 'fine' for the emotional distress."

Aanvi’s eyes went wide. "A fine? Like a ticket?"

"Exactly like a ticket," he whispered.

He didn't give her a chance to argue. He leaned down and captured her lips in a lingering, sleepy morning kiss. It was slow, warm, and tasted of shared secrets. When he pulled away, he tapped her nose.

"Now, stay. I'm going to go get the coffee. And if I find you even one inch out of this bed when I get back, I'm calling your mother and telling her you've been a very naughty patient."

Aanvi gasped, "You wouldn't! That's blackmail!"

"In the corporate world, Aanvi, we call it 'leverage,'" he smirked, walking toward the door. "Don't move."

By 2:00 PM, the Rathore mansion was deceptively quiet. Shivank was locked in his study downstairs, presumably terrifying a group of international auditors via video call. Upstairs, Aanvi was staring at her bowl of "healthy" papaya, looking utterly miserable.

A faint, rhythmic scratching sounded at the bedroom door. It slowly creaked open, and Kavya slid inside, looking left and right like a spy in a classic thriller. Under her arm, she clutched a large, crinkling brown paper bag.

"The coast is clear," Kavya whispered, locking the door behind her with a satisfying click. "The Big Bad Wolf is busy with the Singapore audit. He won't be up for at least an hour."

Aanvi’s eyes lit up, her "baby nature" instantly sensing mischief. "Kavya! Did you get it?"

"Oh, I got it." Kavya dumped the bag onto the bed. Out tumbled a glorious, forbidden heap: extra-spicy potato chips, chocolate-filled waffles, and two giant cups of iced mocha with extra whipped cream.

"Oh, bless you!" Aanvi squealed softly, grabbing a handful of chips. "Shivank-ji has been feeding me nothing but soup and fruit. I feel like a very sad hospital patient."

"Well, consider this your jailbreak," Kavya giggled, hopping onto the bed. The two girls sat cross-legged, surrounded by crumbs and sugar, laughing as Kavya showed Aanvi funny videos and gossiped about the "Ice Queen" Meera’s latest social media meltdown.

Aanvi was mid-laugh, a giant dollop of whipped cream sitting right on the tip of her nose, when the door handle turned.

Jiggle. Jiggle.

The laughter died instantly. The air in the room chilled by ten degrees.

"Kavya? Aanvi? Why is this door locked?" Shivank’s voice boomed from the hallway, sounding dangerously calm.

"Hide it! Hide it!" Aanvi hissed, her eyes wide with panic.

In a flurry of "clumsy" chaos, Kavya stuffed the chips under the duvet, and Aanvi tried to hide the mocha behind her back. Kavya scrambled to the door and unlocked it just as Shivank was about to kick it in.

He stepped inside, still wearing his formal waistcoat and tie. His nose wrinkled instantly. The "Strict CEO" could smell the scent of deep-fried transgression from a mile away.

"What," he began, his gaze sweeping over the bed, "is the meaning of this?"

"We were just... talking!" Kavya said, her voice an octave too high.

Shivank walked toward the bed. He reached out and, with the clinical precision of a detective, pulled back the corner of the duvet. A single, spicy potato chip sat there, mocking him.

He then looked at Aanvi. She was trying to look innocent, but the whipped cream on her nose was a dead giveaway.

"Kavya," Shivank said, not taking his eyes off his wife. "Get out."

"But Bhai—"

"Out. Before I cancel your credit card for the next three months."

Kavya vanished in a blur of pastel fabric, leaving Aanvi alone with the "Grumpy Giant." Shivank stood over her, his arms crossed. He looked at the hidden mocha, the crumbs on the silk sheets, and finally, the white cream on her face.

Aanvi pouted, her lower lip trembling. "I was just hungry for something that wasn't a plant, Shivank-ji."

Shivank sighed, the "Strict" mask cracking. He sat on the edge of the bed and took a napkin, leaning in to gently wipe the whipped cream off her nose.

"You're a disaster," he murmured, his thumb lingering on her cheek. "I spend all day worrying about your health, and you’re in here running a black market for junk food."

"Are you going to scold me?" she whispered, looking at him with "puppy-dog" eyes.

"I should," he said, his gaze dropping to her lips. "But since you’ve already ruined the sheets, I might as well join the crime."

He reached over, grabbed a chocolate waffle, and took a bite. "This is terrible for you. Don't let Maa see the mess."

Aanvi giggled, her heart swelling. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, leaving a faint sugary smudge. "You're a very bad policeman, Shivank-ji."

"Only for you, Aanvi," he whispered, pulling her into his arms for a sugar-scented cuddle. "Only for you."..

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