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After the "sprinkle-egg" breakfast was cleared away, Shivank retreated to his study to deal with the aftermath of the "Soup-Drenched Laptop." He was in full "Strict CEO" mode, barking orders over a backup phone, while Aanvi remained downstairs to continue her "Acting Mother" duties.

Aanvi wandered into the kitchen to "supervise" the staff, her silk pashmina trailing behind her like a royal cape.

"Ramesh Kaka, are the vegetables happy today?" she asked the head chef, leaning over a large pot of simmering curry. Her "baby nature" was in full "chit-chat" mode. "I think the carrots look a little lonely, maybe they need more—"

Suddenly, the heavy, spicy aroma of the roasting spices and the rich oil hit her. Usually, she loved the smell of the mansion’s kitchen, but today, it felt like a physical blow to her stomach.

Her face went from "innocent" pink to a ghostly, translucent white.

"Aanvi Bahu? Are you alright?" Ramesh asked, his voice full of concern.

Aanvi didn't answer. She clapped a "clumsy" hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. She spun around and bolted toward the industrial sink at the far end of the kitchen, her silk shawl snagging on a chair as she ran.

Heave. The staff stood frozen as their "Little Bird" leaned over the sink, her small frame shaking as she violently threw up. The "baby nature" was replaced by a raw, shivering vulnerability.

"Someone get the Sahib! Quickly!" Ramesh shouted, grabbing a clean towel and rushing to rub Aanvi’s back.

One of the junior maids took off like a shot, sprinting up the marble stairs and bursting into the study without knocking—a feat that usually resulted in a terrifying lecture from Shivank.

"Sahib! Sahib! Aanvi Ma'am... she's in the kitchen! She’s sick! She’s vomiting!"

Shivank didn't even hang up the phone. He dropped it on the desk and was out of the chair before the maid could finish her sentence. His "hard" expression was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp dread.

He reached the kitchen in record time, his dress shoes clicking loudly against the tile. He saw the huddle of staff and Aanvi slumped over the sink, her shoulders hitching.

"OUT! EVERYONE OUT!" he roared, his "Strict CEO" voice vibrating the copper pots hanging from the ceiling.

The staff vanished in seconds. Shivank was at her side instantly, his "hard" hands incredibly steady as he pulled her away from the sink and tucked her into his chest.

"Aanvi... Aanvi, look at me," he commanded, his voice dropping into that low, grounding rumble.

Aanvi looked up, her eyes watery and red-rimmed, a stray strand of hair stuck to her damp forehead. She looked so "innocently" broken that Shivank felt a physical pang in his chest.

"Shivank-ji... the carrots... they turned on me," she whispered, her voice cracking before she leaned over and retched again.

Shivank didn't flinch. He held her hair back with one hand and supported her waist with the other, standing like a solid "Mountain" as she finished. When she was done, he picked up a glass of water, rinsed her mouth, and wiped her face with the gentlest touch.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you," he murmured, his "hard" exterior acting as a fortress around her.

He scooped her up, pashmina and all, and began carrying her toward the lounge, away from the smell of the food. Aanvi "clung" to his neck, her face buried in his shirt, her breathing shallow.

"I think... I think the house really is trying to eat me now," she mumbled against his skin.

"The house isn't eating you, Aanvi," Shivank said, his eyes darkening with a sudden, realization. He remembered the Maldives, the "warmth" she had yesterday, and now this. "But I think we need to call the doctor. This isn't just a 'clumsy' stomach."

Aanvi looked up at him, her "innocent" eyes confused. "Is the needle-man coming? I'll be good, Shivank-ji! I'll apologize to the carrots!"

"No needles yet, little bird," he whispered, kissing her temple as he laid her on the sofa. "But something tells me our 'Acting Mother' might be getting a promotion soon.".

The private family doctor, Dr. Mehta, stepped out of the lounge and into the hallway where Shivank was pacing with such "hard" intensity he looked ready to headbutt a wall.

Shivank stopped mid-stride, his jaw tight. "What is it? Food poisoning? A virus? If she needs a specialist, I’ll have a plane ready in—"

Dr. Mehta let out a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes crinkling. "Mr. Rathore, please, calm down. Your wife isn't 'allergic to being alone,' though she did try to convince me that the kitchen spices are 'conspiring' against her."

"Then what is it?" Shivank demanded, his "Strict CEO" mask barely holding.

The doctor’s smile widened. "Congratulations, Shivank. Aanvi isn't sick. She’s a few days pregnant. Those 'carrots' she’s blaming? That’s just the first sign of a very special journey."

The "Mountain" froze. Shivank’s hands, which could sign multi-million dollar deals without a tremor, actually shook. The silence in the hallway was deafening until Shivank finally found his voice. "Pregnant? My Aanvi... a baby?"

Shivank didn't wait for another word. He burst back into the lounge. Aanvi was sitting on the sofa, looking small and pale, clutching a cushion to her stomach.

"Shivank-ji! Did you tell him? Tell him the kitchen is mean!" she chirped, her "innocent" nature trying to mask her discomfort. "He wants to take my blood, but I told him my blood belongs to the Rathore estate!"

Shivank didn't say a word. He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees in front of her. He took her "clumsy" hands in his, his "hard" gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

"Aanvi," he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion she had never heard before. "You're not allergic to the house."

"I'm not?"

"No," he said, a single, rare tear glistening in his eye. "You're going to be a mother. There's a tiny 'little bird' inside you."

Aanvi’s eyes went wide. She looked down at her flat stomach, then back at Shivank. Her "stubborn" pout melted into a look of pure, "innocent" wonder.

"A baby? A real one? Not a doll or a penguin?" she whispered.

"A real one," Shivank confirmed, pulling her into a fierce, protective embrace.

"Oh!" Aanvi gasped, her "clinging" nature taking over as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Shivank-ji... I was the 'Acting Mother' this morning as a joke... but now I have to be a 'Real Mother'! What if I'm clumsy with the baby? What if I trip and the baby thinks it's on a roller coaster?"

Shivank pulled back just enough to frame her face in his hands. His "Strict CEO" persona was gone, replaced by a man who had just found his new North Star.

"Then I’ll be the safety harness," he promised, his voice a low, grounding rumble. "I’ll pad every corner of this world for you. You just focus on growing our little one. I’ll handle the gravity."

Aanvi giggled through her tears, her "baby nature" resurfacing. "Does this mean I get to eat ice cream for every meal now? The doctor said I need 'nutrients'!"

"We’ll see about the ice cream," Shivank teased, kissing her nose. "But first, I have to call my mother. She’s going to turn the car around before she even reaches her destination."

"Wait!" Aanvi grabbed his tie, pulling him close. "Don't tell her yet! Let's keep it our secret for five minutes. Just the Mountain, the Bird, and the... what should we call the baby, Shivank-ji?"

"The Pebble," Shivank murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Our little Rathore pebble.".

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