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The chaos of the morning eventually settled into a rare, quiet rhythm. The "confetti incident" was cleared away, and the Rathore family gathered around the long mahogany table for a breakfast that was—surprisingly—peaceful.

Shivank’s father was already discussing stock options over his tea, and Kavya was busy checking her gallery schedule. Mrs. Rathore, however, was dressed in a traveling suit, her bags already waiting by the door.

"Now, Aanvi, beta," Mrs. Rathore said, patting Aanvi’s hand affectionately. "I’ll only be at my mother’s house for a week. The staff knows exactly what you like, and Shivank is just a phone call away."

Aanvi’s "baby nature" immediately flared up. Her lip wobbled as she looked at her mother-in-law. "A whole week? But who will tell me the stories about Shivank-ji’s childhood when he’s being too 'strict'?"

"I’ll tell you those when I get back, I promise," Mrs. Rathore chuckled.

One by one, the house emptied. Shivank’s father left for the office, and Kavya headed to her studio. Finally, it was Shivank’s turn. He stood in the foyer, adjusting his cuffs, looking every bit the "Hard CEO" ready to conquer the world.

He leaned down, giving Aanvi a lingering kiss on the forehead. "I have back-to-back meetings, Aanvi. I’ll be home by seven. Stay out of trouble."

"You're all leaving me," Aanvi whispered, her "clumsy" hands clutching the hem of his blazer. "The house is too big. It’s going to eat me."

"The house is made of stone, little bird. It doesn't have teeth," he teased, gently prying her hands away. "I’ll call you at lunch."

By 11:00 AM, the mansion felt like a tomb. Aanvi wandered through the halls, her footsteps echoing. She tried to "work" on her sketches, but she accidentally knocked over a jar of water. She tried to read, but the silence was too loud.

Her "grumpy side" took over. She stomped into the media room, threw herself onto the oversized velvet sofa, and grabbed the remote.

"Fine. If everyone wants to work, I’ll just... have a party with the TV!"

She turned on a marathon of classic cartoons—the ones with the little lost kittens and the brave puppies. It was supposed to be a distraction, but in her lonely, "stubborn" state, it was a recipe for disaster.

By 2:00 PM, the "Strict CEO’s" wife was a complete mess. She was watching a scene where a small, round penguin was separated from its family by a rogue ice floe.

"He's all alone!" she sobbed, her "baby nature" spiraling into a full-blown crying session. "Just like me! His mommy went to her mother’s house and his daddy went to a board meeting! Poor Mr. Flappington!"

She was curled into a ball, clutching a silk throw pillow, her face red and tear-stained. Every time the penguin let out a sad honk, Aanvi let out a fresh wail.

When Shivank called her for their scheduled lunch check-in, he didn't hear a "hello." He heard a muffled, heartbroken hiccup.

"Aanvi? What happened? Are you hurt? Did you fall?" His voice went "hard" and frantic over the line.

"The... the ice floe, Shivank-ji!" she wailed into the phone. "It’s drifting away! He has no one to catch his fish! He’s going to be a lonely penguin forever!"

There was a long, dead silence on the other end of the line. Shivank, who was currently sitting in a room full of Japanese investors, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"Aanvi... are you crying over the penguin cartoon again?"

"He’s cold!" she shrieked. "And you’re mean for being at work while I’m here suffering with him!"

Shivank looked at the investors, who were staring at him in confusion. He stood up, buttoning his jacket with a sharp, decisive motion.

"Gentlemen, an emergency has arisen at the residence," he said, his "Strict CEO" mask not flickering for a second. "A critical... environmental crisis involving a cold penguin. My assistant will reschedule."

He didn't wait for a response. He walked out, his stride "hard" and purposeful.

Thirty minutes later, the door to the media room swung open. Aanvi looked up, a tissue stuck to her cheek, to see her husband standing there, his tie loosened and his expression a mix of exasperation and deep, "mountain-like" devotion.

"Shivank-ji?"

"Move over," he grumbled, sitting on the sofa and pulling her into his lap. "If we're going to watch this penguin find his family, we might as well do it together."

Aanvi immediately "clung" to him, burying her face in his neck, her tears wetting his expensive shirt. "I knew you wouldn't let him be lonely."

"I'm not doing it for the penguin, Aanvi," he muttered, holding her tight. "I'm doing it for the 'Little Bird' who can't handle a quiet house."

The media room was quiet now, the cartoon penguin having finally found his family, but the emotional toll had left Aanvi exhausted. Shivank, still holding her in his lap, felt a strange radiance coming from her skin.

He pulled back slightly, his "hard" gaze narrowing as he looked at her flushed cheeks. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then her neck.

"Aanvi, you’re burning up," he muttered, his "Strict CEO" voice returning, laced with that familiar protective edge.

"I'm just... I'm just warm because I was crying," she mumbled, her "baby nature" making her want to just curl back into the crook of his arm. "My heart was hot for the penguin, Shivank-ji."

"Your heart doesn't give you a 101-degree forehead," he countered. He scooped her up from the sofa, ignoring her small protests. "All that crying and getting worked up over a cartoon has exhausted you. Your immune system is as 'clumsy' as your feet."

He carried her into the master suite, where the afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the room. He set her down on the bed and immediately began stripping off her outer layers, leaving her in her soft camisole and leggings.

"I don't want to sleep!" Aanvi protested, her "stubborn side" flickering even through her lethargy. "If I sleep, I'll wake up and it'll still be quiet because Maa isn't here."

"If you don't sleep, I'm calling the doctor to give you another 'friend'—the needle," Shivank threatened, his voice "hard" but his hands incredibly gentle as he tucked her under the heavy duvet.

Aanvi froze at the mention of the needle, her eyes wide. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," he challenged, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached for a damp cloth he’d asked the maid to bring and began to wipe her face, cleaning away the salt from her tears. "Close your eyes, Aanvi. Now."

Aanvi pouted, but the cool cloth felt heaven-sent against her warm skin. As her "stubbornness" faded, her "clinging" nature took over. She reached out from under the covers, grabbing the edge of Shivank’s dress shirt.

"Only if you stay," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Don't go back to the office. The 'Mountain' has to stay with the 'Bird' until she’s not warm anymore."

Shivank looked at the stack of documents he had brought home to review, then back at his wife, who looked so small and fragile in the center of the massive bed. He let out a resigned sigh, kicking off his leather shoes and loosening his tie.

"Fine. But if you start talking in your sleep about penguins, I'm leaving," he teased.

He climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her into his side. Aanvi immediately tucked her head under his chin, her hot breath fanning against his chest. Within minutes, the rhythm of her breathing slowed, her body finally giving in to the much-needed rest.

Shivank didn't sleep. He stayed perfectly still, acting as her human pillow, his "hard" gaze fixed on her peaceful face. He watched the way her eyelashes fluttered and how she occasionally twitched—his "clumsy" girl even tripped in her dreams.

He realized then that even with the house empty of his mother and sister, it wasn't quiet. It was full—full of her, and that was more than enough for him. He leaned down, pressing a silent, cool kiss to her temple.

"Get better, little bird," he whispered. "I can't have a sick wife and a 'marshmallow' reputation at the same time."

The room was drenched in the soft, orange glow of the setting sun when Aanvi’s eyelashes finally fluttered open. The "warmth" had faded, leaving her skin soft and her mind in that hazy, sweet place that only happens after a deep nap in the "Mountain’s" arms.

She didn't move at first. She just lay there, blinking slowly like a newborn kitten, staring at the buttons of Shivank’s shirt.

"Shivank-ji?" she whispered, her voice tiny and honey-sweet.

Shivank, who had been reading a report on his tablet, immediately set it aside. He leaned over her, his "hard" features melting as he saw her looking up at him with such pure, "innocent" eyes.

"I'm here, Aanvi. How do you feel? Is the 'fire' gone?" he asked, pressing his cool palm to her cheek.

Aanvi didn't answer. Instead, she reached out with a "clumsy" hand and gently poked his nose. "I think... I think I had a dream that you were a giant cloud and I was a little strawberry sitting on top of you. It was very bouncy."

Shivank bit back a smile, his heart doing that strange, uncomfortable "marshmallow" flip again. "A strawberry? Is that why you're smelling like the expensive soap?"

Aanvi giggled, a sound that was light and airy, completely free of the morning’s "grumpy" tears. She wiggled closer, tucking her hands under her chin as she looked at him with wonder.

"Shivank-ji, why is your heart so loud?" she asked, tilting her head. "It goes dhup-dhup, dhup-dhup. Is it trying to tell me a secret? Is it saying 'Aanvi is the best girl'?"

"It’s saying 'Aanvi is a very talkative girl who needs to rest,'" Shivank countered, though his hand was tenderly stroking her hair.

"No," she pouted, her "baby nature" taking over. She looked at his sharp jawline and then at the window. "I think my fever went away because it was scared of you. You looked at the germs with your 'Strict CEO' eyes and said, 'Get out of my wife’s head! This is a private merger!'"

Shivank let out a soft, low laugh, pulling her closer so her head rested on his shoulder. "Is that what I did? I didn't realize I was intimidating bacteria now."

"You're very scary, Shivank-ji," she whispered, her fingers tracing the patterns on his tie. "But only on the outside. On the inside, you're like a chocolate lava cake. Hard on the edges, but if someone pokes you—like me!—you're all warm and gooey."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with a "clinging" devotion. "Since Maa is gone and I'm a 'brave' girl who survived the penguin-tragedy... can we stay like this? We don't need the lights. We can just be two people in a dark castle, waiting for the moon to bring us cookies?"

Shivank looked at the clock. He had a million things to do, but looking at her "innocent" face, the rest of the world felt like a distant, unimportant noise.

"No cookies in the bed, Aanvi. You'll get crumbs in the sheets and then complain that the 'bed is biting you,'" he said, his "hard" voice losing its edge completely. "But we can stay here. Just for a little while."

Aanvi sighed with content, her eyes drifting shut again. "You're a very good Mountain. I think I'll keep you."

"I think you don't have a choice," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

The evening progressed from "sweet" to "disastrous" with the speed of a falling star—or rather, a falling bowl of tomato basil soup.

Aanvi, still nestled in the "Pillow Fortress," decided she was too "delicate" to sit up properly for her dinner. "My bones are still sleepy, Shivank-ji," she insisted, her "baby nature" in full swing. "I can eat like a Roman empress, reclining!"

Shivank, who was multitasking by checking a merger proposal on his laptop beside her, shook his head. "Aanvi, gravity is a law, not a suggestion. Sit up."

"I have it! I am a pro!" she chirped, balancing the silver tray on her lap.

She took a "clumsy" sip, but as she reached for a crouton, she saw a moth flutter near the lamp. "Oh! A tiny bird!" she squealed, waving her spoon. The tray tilted. The bowl slid.

In slow motion, a wave of bright red soup cascaded across the bed—and landed directly onto Shivank’s $4,000 custom-built laptop.

Sizzle. The screen flickered and went black.

"Oops," Aanvi whispered, her eyes wide and "innocent." "Shivank-ji... your computer is eating my dinner."

Shivank stared at the dripping device. His "Strict CEO" brain calculated the loss of data, but his "Mountain" heart looked at Aanvi’s horrified face. He took a deep breath, wiped a drop of soup off his own cheek, and closed the laptop with a soggy thwack.

"I suppose," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "that the 'merger' is officially cancelled. Along with your 'Roman Empress' privileges."

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The next morning, the guilt of the "Soup Massacre" had transformed into a surge of "stubborn" responsibility. With Mrs. Rathore gone, Aanvi decided she needed to step up.

She marched into the kitchen at 7:00 AM, wearing one of Mrs. Rathore’s oversized silk pashminas over her nightgown to look "official."

"Listen everyone!" she announced to the startled kitchen staff. "I am the Acting Mother of the Rathore Mansion! I am in charge! Today, we shall have... ice cream for breakfast!"

The head chef looked at her, confused. "But, Ma'am, Mr. Shivank has a strict protein diet—"

"I am the Mother now!" she countered, her "baby nature" trying to sound authoritative. "And the Mother says the 'Mountain' needs sprinkles! Sprinkles make the heart grow fonder!"

When Shivank descended the stairs, he found Aanvi standing in the middle of the foyer, holding a clipboard (which was actually just a coloring book) and a feather duster.

"Aanvi? Why are you wearing my mother's shawl and dusting the statues?" he asked, his "hard" gaze softening with amusement.

"I am managing the estate, Shivank-ji," she said solemnly, "clumsily" nearly knocking over a Ming vase with her duster. "I have decided that the staff is working too hard. I gave them all a 'chocolate break.' Also, I have reorganized your shoes by 'how much they look like they want to go for a walk.'"

Shivank looked at his closet. His formal Oxfords were in the front, and his gym sneakers were hidden in the back.

"I see," he murmured, walking over to her and taking the duster out of her hand before she could do any real damage. "And does the 'Acting Mother' have any orders for the CEO?"

Aanvi looked up at him, her "innocent" face suddenly turning "clingy." She dropped the clipboard and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"The Mother says the CEO has to take a 'Working From Home' day because the house feels too big without Maa, and the vacuum cleaner is making a scary growling noise at me."

Shivank looked at his watch, then at his "clumsy" little manager. He sighed, defeated by the sheer cuteness of her "Acting Mother" routine. "Fine. I’ll work from the study. But the 'Mother' has to promise not to put sprinkles on my eggs."

"I can't promise that, Shivank-ji," she whispered, giggling into his chest. "The eggs told me they were feeling 'bland'."

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