Continue reading and enjoy the chapter ,please like and comment..... Follow for next chapter......... ❤️❤️

Shivank walked in, fresh from a final briefing with his board, and stopped dead at the sight of Aanvi trying to zip up a suitcase that was bulging at the seams.

"Aanvi," he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and "Strict CEO" authority. "We are going to the Maldives for ten days. Why does it look like you’re preparing for a thirty-year exile?"

Aanvi looked up, her face flushed and her hair messy from the struggle. She was currently sitting on top of her suitcase, trying to use her weight to close the zipper. "These are all essentials, Shivank-ji! A girl has needs!"

Shivank walked over and tapped the suitcase. "Open it. I’m conducting an audit."

"No! It’s a surprise!" she squeaked, but Shivank reached down and pulled the zipper.

The lid flew open like a jack-in-the-box. Out tumbled:

Three giant bags of spicy chips.

A fluffy, oversized teddy bear wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

Five different pairs of "clumsy-proof" fuzzy socks.

A portable bubble-maker.

Exactly zero actual swimsuits.

Shivank picked up the teddy bear by its ear, staring at it with a flat expression. "Aanvi... why is this bear in the suitcase? And where are your clothes?"

"That’s Barnaby! He’s never seen the ocean," she pouted, her "baby nature" taking over as she snatched the bear back and hugged it. "And my clothes are in the other bag. This one is for... emotional support and snacks."

Shivank sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her toward him, settling her between his knees.

"We are going to a private island," he said softly, his hands finding her waist. "There will be a chef. There will be snacks. There is even a shop. You don't need to smuggle half a grocery store in your luggage."

"But what if they don't have my chips?" she whispered, looking up at him with those wide, devastatingly cute eyes. "And Barnaby wants to see the dolphins."

Shivank looked at the bear, then at his wife. He knew he was losing. The man who negotiated billion-dollar deals was being defeated by a stuffed animal in a Hawaiian shirt.

"Fine," he muttered, leaning forward to press a kiss to her nose. "The bear stays. Two bags of chips stay. But the bubble-maker? Absolutely not. I draw the line at bubbles on a private jet."

"I can live with that," Aanvi giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly knocking him over.

As the packing chaos settled, Shivank pulled her into a deeper hug, tucking her head under his chin. The realization that they were leaving the pressure of the Rathore empire behind for a week was finally sinking in.

"No phones, Aanvi," he murmured into her hair. "No meetings. No 'Strict CEO' stuff. Just us."

"And Barnaby," she reminded him cheekily.

"And the damn bear," he groaned, but he was smiling. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of excitement and the promise of the blue horizon.

"Go get your shoes on, little bird," he whispered against her lips. "The jet is waiting.". ..............

After bidding bye to everyone in the family both of the love birds led towards the airport....

The Rathore private jet sat on the tarmac like a sleek silver bird. Inside, the cabin was a palace of cream leather, polished wood, and the faint, expensive scent of sandalwood.

Luxury at 30,000 Feet......

Aanvi was vibrating with excitement. As soon as the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign flicked off, she began exploring every button in her oversized first-class pod.

"Shivank-ji! Look! This seat turns into a bed! And there’s a hidden drawer for slippers!" She was like a kid in a candy store, her "baby nature" making her bounce on the plush leather.

Shivank, meanwhile, was trying to maintain his "Strict CEO" persona. He had his laptop open, finishing one last email before the "No Work" rule officially began. "Aanvi, sit down. You'll dizzy yourself."

"You're so boring," she teased, trotting over to his seat. "The clouds are right there! We’re literally flying through the sky and you’re looking at spreadsheets."

To settle her down, the flight attendant brought a tray of refreshments. Aanvi reached for a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Be careful, Aanvi," Shivank warned, his eyes still on his screen. "The air is a bit turbulent."

"I'm being careful!" she insisted. But just as she took a sip, the jet hit a pocket of air—a tiny, sudden jolt.

In true Aanvi fashion, her hand jerked. The bright orange liquid didn't just spill; it performed a perfect, graceful arc directly onto Shivank’s pristine, white linen shirt.

The silence in the cabin was immediate. The flight attendant gasped. Aanvi froze, the empty glass still held mid-air, her eyes growing wide as saucers.

A giant, wet, citrusy stain spread across Shivank’s chest.

Shivank looked down at his shirt. Then he looked at Aanvi. He slowly closed his laptop.

"I... I can explain," Aanvi whispered, her lower lip starting to wobble. "The cloud... the cloud pushed me."

"The cloud pushed you," Shivank repeated, his voice dangerously low. He stood up, the wet fabric clinging to his muscular frame. "Aanvi, this was my favorite shirt for the island. Now I smell like a breakfast buffet."

"I'm sorry!" She scrambled for some napkins, frantically rubbing at his chest. "I'll fix it! I'll wash it right now in the tiny sink!"

Shivank caught her wrists, stopping her frantic scrubbing. He looked down at her—she looked so genuinely devastated, like she had just accidentally crashed his car instead of spilling a drink.

His stern expression crumbled. He let out a long, huffy sigh and pulled her into his chest, despite the wet stain. "Stop. You’re just making it worse. You’re rubbing the pulp into my skin."

"Are you mad?" she mumbled into his neck.

"I should be," he murmured, his voice softening as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "But I realized something."

"What?"

"That a white shirt is a small price to pay for the fact that you didn't fall and hurt yourself during that bump." He pulled back, looking at her with a smirk. "Go get my spare shirt from the bag. And from now on, you drink through a straw."

Once Shivank changed into a fresh black tee, he decided the only way to keep Aanvi out of trouble was to keep her occupied with luxury. He called the attendant.

"Bring the heated eye masks, the silk blankets, and the chocolate-covered strawberries," he ordered.

For the next four hours, Shivank turned into a professional pamperer. He tucked the silk blanket around her, fed her strawberries while he read a book, and even let her use his arm as a pillow.

As the jet began its descent toward the turquoise waters of the Maldives, Aanvi looked out the window, her hand linked with his.

"Shivank-ji?"

"Yes, Aanvi?"

"I think I like being a 'disaster' if it means you take care of me like this."

Shivank squeezed her hand, looking out at the islands appearing below them like emeralds in the sea. "Don't get used to it. Once we land, I'm teaching you how to swim. And I'm definitely buying you a life jacket with 'Clumsy' written on the back.". .......

About two hours into the flight, the jet hit a pocket of rough air. The cabin gave a sudden, sharp jolt. Aanvi squeaked, her "clumsy" reflex kicking in as she accidentally knocked over a bowl of gourmet nuts, sending them rolling across the plush carpet.

"Oh no! I'm a disaster!" she cried, scrambling to pick them up, but another jolt sent her tumbling right back against Shivank’s chest.

"Stay still," he commanded, his "hard" voice returning but softened by the way he was stroking her hair. He caught her wrists, pinning them gently against his chest. "The staff will clean it. You’re shaking, Aanvi."

The jet continued to bounce, the turbulence making the cabin feel like a cradle. Aanvi’s adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a heavy, soul-deep exhaustion from the weeks of wedding chaos. Her head began to nod against his shoulder, her blinks becoming slower and longer.

"You're exhausted," Shivank whispered.

He stood up, lifting her effortlessly as the plane gave one last lurch. He carried her to the back of the jet, where a heavy sliding door opened to reveal a private master suite. It was a cocoon of silk sheets and the scent of expensive sandalwood.

He laid her down on the king-sized bed, but when he tried to pull away, Aanvi’s hand caught his sleeve. "Don't go back " she mumbled, her eyes half-closed. "The mountain is too far away."

Shivank’s jaw tightened.

He kicked off his shoes and slid into the bed beside her. He pulled the heavy, weighted duvet over both of them, shielding her from the vibration of the engines.

"Go to sleep, little bird," he murmured, pulling her back against his chest until they were perfectly spooned. "I’ll hold the plane steady."

As the jet streaked across the Indian Ocean at 40,000 feet, the "Strict CEO" ignored his ringing phone. He fell asleep with his face buried in her hair, finding a peace in that sky-high bedroom that no boardroom could ever provide.

The hum of the engines finally died down as the Gulfstream G650ER taxied to a private hangar at Velana International Airport. Outside, the Maldivian sun was beginning to dip, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and molten gold.

The flight attendants moved toward the master suite to announce their arrival, but they stopped dead when they saw the "Strict CEO" emerge from the bedroom. He held a finger to his lips, his gaze so "hard" and commanding that the staff practically froze in place.

In his arms, Aanvi was a soft, dead weight. She hadn't stirred once during the landing; the "bouncing" of the jet and the warmth of Shivank’s body had pulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Her head was tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck, and her hand was still loosely curled around the lapel of his shirt.

The cabin door creaked open, and the tropical heat rushed in, smelling of salt and damp earth. Shivank adjusted his grip, his massive arms acting like a protective cradle. He didn't wait for the stairs to be checked; he stepped out onto the platform with a predatory grace.

As he began to descend the air-stairs, the wind caught Aanvi’s hair, blowing a few strands across her face. Without stopping his descent, Shivank leaned down, using his chin to gently brush the hair away, his eyes softening for a fleeting second before returning to their icy, protective focus.

The ground crew watched in stunned silence. They had expected the cold, legendary Shivank Rathore to march off the plane barking orders. Instead, they saw a man walking as if he were carrying the most fragile glass in the world.

He bypassed the luxury SUV waiting on the tarmac and walked straight to the edge of the private jetty where a sleek, mahogany-trimmed speedboat sat bobbing in the turquoise water.

"Sir, would you like us to wake the Madame for the customs check?" the island representative whispered nervously.

Shivank pinned the man with a glare that could have withered stone. "No one wakes her," he rasped, his voice low and dangerous. "I have already cleared the paperwork. Get the boat moving. Slowly. If she wakes up because of a rough wave, you’ll be looking for a new job by sunrise."

He stepped onto the boat, the wood creaking under his weight. He sat in the plush, shaded lounge area at the back, refusing to set her down on the seats. He kept her in his lap, her face shielded from the sea spray by his broad chest.

As the boat began to glide across the water toward their private island, Aanvi gave a tiny, contented sigh in her sleep and snuggled deeper into his heat. Shivank rested his head back against the leather, his jaw tightening with a fierce, quiet satisfaction. The world could wait; his queen was resting, and the mountain was finally home...........

Follow for next chapter........

Like and comment tooo......