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The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised plum and gold. Shivank realized that keeping Aanvi cooped up in the bedroom was starting to make her "baby nature" veer into "restless kitten" territory.

He decided it was time for a change of scenery.

Shivank had the staff transform the massive marble terrace into a private cinema. Thick, white mattresses were spread across the floor, piled high with silk cushions and cashmere blankets. String lights flickered like trapped stars above them, and a large projector screen hummed at the edge of the balcony.

"Shivank-ji? Where are we going?" Aanvi asked as he lifted her from the bed.

"To a place where the air doesn't smell like antiseptic and spicy chips," he murmured, carrying her out into the cool evening breeze.

As he laid her down onto the soft cushions, Aanvi let out a gasp of wonder. "It’s like a fairy tale! Did you do all this?"

"I gave the orders," Shivank said, though the way he carefully adjusted the pillows behind her back suggested he’d been much more involved than he’d ever admit. "Now, sit. Don't even think about putting weight on that ankle."

He sat beside her, allowing her to lean her head against his shoulder. He had picked a classic romantic film—something soft and light, far removed from the cold numbers of his boardroom.

As the movie started, the cool wind brushed against them. Aanvi felt a shiver, and before she could even ask, Shivank was pulling a heavy blanket over both of them. His arm stayed wrapped around her, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on her shoulder.

"Shivank-ji?" she whispered, halfway through the film.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For not being too much of a monster today."

Shivank looked down at her. The moonlight caught the silver of the Rathore diamonds she still wore, and the soft glow of the screen reflected in her wide, innocent eyes.

"I'm only a monster to people who deserve it, Aanvi," he said, his voice dropping to that intimate, gravelly pitch that always made her breath hitch. "To you... I think I'm just a man who's trying to figure out how to keep a 'marshmallow' from melting."

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. The "Strict CEO" was nowhere to be found; there was only a raw, quiet hunger in his eyes. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Aanvi didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, her hand coming up to rest on his heart, which was beating a frantic rhythm that contradicted his calm expression.

"You're not a monster," she breathed. "You're my mountain."

Shivank didn't wait any longer. He captured her lips in a kiss that tasted of the cool night air and the sweetness of the chocolate they’d shared earlier. It was deeper than before—a slow, possessive exploration that spoke of all the things he was too "strict" to say out loud.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "If you keep looking at me like that, Aanvi, I might never let you go back inside."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, her cheeks a deep crimson.

They spent the rest of the night under the stars, the movie forgotten as they talked in low whispers about everything and nothing. Eventually, the cool air and the warmth of his body worked their magic, and Aanvi fell asleep, her hand tucked firmly into Shivank’s waistcoat.

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The next morning, the household was in an uproar. The doctor had arrived for a check-up, and the "Devil" was standing over him with his arms crossed, looking like he was ready to sue the medical profession if the news wasn't good.

"Well, Mr. Rathore," the doctor said, nervously adjusting his glasses. "The swelling has gone down significantly. As long as she wears the brace, she can start walking—slowly."

Aanvi cheered, nearly falling off the bed in her excitement. "I can go to the kitchen! I can make the coffee!"

"You will go to the garden, and you will walk for exactly ten minutes with me," Shivank corrected, though a small, triumphant smile played on his lips.

...................

The dining hall was bathed in the crisp morning light, the long marble table laden with a spread that looked more like a botanical garden than a breakfast. Now that the doctor had cleared Aanvi for movement, Shivank had gone into "High-Performance Recovery" mode.

Aanvi sat in her usual chair, her lip jutting out so far it could have been a shelf. In front of her sat a vibrant, terrifyingly healthy bowl of sautéed kale, broccoli, and a green smoothie that looked like it had been harvested from a swamp.

"I am not eating the grass, Shivank-ji," Aanvi declared, pushing the bowl away with two fingers. "I am a human, not a cow."

Shivank, sitting at the head of the table in a sharp charcoal suit, didn't even look up from his financial tablet. "The 'grass' is packed with Vitamin K and iron. It’s essential for your bone density after that library stunt. Eat."

"It’s bitter! It tastes like... like sadness!" Aanvi turned to Gayatri with wide, pleading eyes. "Maa, tell him! I want a paratha. Just one. With a mountain of butter."

Gayatri smiled sympathetically, but one look at Shivank’s stern profile made her stay silent. Digvijay, however, chuckled behind his newspaper. "She’s got a point, son. Even a lion doesn't eat kale."

"This lioness needs to heal," Shivank countered, finally looking at Aanvi. "Two more bites of the broccoli, and I’ll consider a small piece of toast."

Aanvi let out a dramatic, "baby-natured" huff and began to poke a broccoli floret as if it were a poisonous insect.

Kavya, who had been watching the exchange while scrolling through a travel magazine, suddenly slammed her hand on the table.

"Enough!" Kavya announced, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous plan. "This atmosphere is suffocating. Between the 'Strict CEO' orders and the 'Patient' tantrums, this house feels like a boarding school."

Shivank raised an eyebrow. "Your point, Kavya?"

"My point is," Kavya leaned forward, looking at both Shivank and Aanvi, "you two have been married for months now. Between the mergers, the accidents, and the fevers, you haven't had a single moment of peace. You haven't even had a Honeymoon."

The silence that followed was heavy. Aanvi’s broccoli was forgotten, her face turning a deep shade of pink. Shivank’s grip on his tablet tightened.

"I have the Singhania merger closing next week," Shivank said, his voice dropping into his 'Strict' tone. "And Aanvi’s ankle—"

"Is fine!" Aanvi interrupted, her eyes suddenly bright. "I can walk! I can even run if there’s a beach!"

"See?" Kavya smirked. "Bhai, you’re always talking about 'efficiency.' What’s more efficient than taking your wife to a private island where there are no 'computer uncles,' no libraries to fall from, and definitely no kale?"

Digvijay lowered his paper, nodding in agreement. "She’s right, Shivank. You’ve been working like a machine. And Aanvi deserves to see something other than the four walls of this mansion and the inside of a first-aid kit."

Shivank looked at Aanvi. She was looking at him with that hopeful, "baby-like" expression, her hands clasped under her chin. The "Strict CEO" part of him wanted to list ten reasons why he couldn't leave, but the part of him that belonged to her—the part that loved her "clumsy" heart—was already yielding.

"A private island?" Shivank asked, his gaze lingering on Aanvi’s face.

"Maldives," Kavya chirped. "I’ve already looked at a villa that has its own private pool and—most importantly—no stairs for Aanvi to fall down."

Aanvi giggled, reaching out to grab Shivank’s hand across the table. "Can we go, Shivank-ji? Will there be ice cream on the island?"

Shivank sighed, a defeated but fond smile finally breaking through his mask. He turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with hers.

"Pack your bags, Aanvi," he murmured. "But if you trip into the ocean, I’m not coming in to save you."

"Liar!" Kavya and Aanvi shouted in unison.

"I’ll have the jet ready by Friday," Shivank added, already pulling his phone out to make the arrangements. "But on one condition... finish the broccoli."

Aanvi didn't even argue. She picked up the fork and gulped the greens down in record time, her mind already drifting to white sands, blue water, and a Shivank who didn't have to wear a tie. ........

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