..... Heyy guyss...... Let's continue with the story......

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The house was finally quiet, the architects gone and the family retired to their wings, leaving Shivank alone with his greatest challenge yet: the prenatal vitamin.

Shivank walked into the bedroom holding a small paper cup and a glass of water. His "Strict CEO" aura was back, but it was tempered by the fact that he was also carrying a fuzzy pink blanket.

"Aanvi. Time for the supplement," he announced, his voice a low, authoritative rumble.

Aanvi, who was currently "clumsily" trying to arrange her pillows into a throne, looked at the giant green pill and recoiled as if he were holding a spider. "No. Absolutely not. That thing isn't a vitamin, Shivank-ji. It’s a pebble. You’re asking me to swallow a literal rock."

"It is a soft-gel, Aanvi. It contains everything the Pebble needs," he said, stepping closer, his "hard" gaze unwavering.

"It tastes like sadness and iron!" she protested, her "stubborn side" flaring up. She crossed her arms and tucked her chin into her chest. "If the Pebble wants vitamins, it should have asked for a mango. I’m not doing it."

Shivank sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He knew he could use his "Strict Husband" voice, but he also knew that Aanvi’s "baby nature" responded better to high-level incentives.

"Aanvi," he said, his voice dropping into a smooth, velvety persuasion. "If you take this pill without a fuss, I will give you a twenty-minute foot massage. With the lavender oil you like."

Aanvi’s ears practically perked up. Her "clinging" nature battled with her "stubbornness." "Thirty minutes. And you have to tell me the story of how you failed your first driving test."

Shivank’s jaw tightened. "I didn't fail it. I had a disagreement with the instructor's interpretation of a 'stop' sign. Fine. Thirty minutes. Take the pill."

Aanvi eyed him suspiciously, then grabbed the pill and the water. She made a series of "clumsy," dramatic faces—scrunching her nose and squeezing her eyes shut—before finally swallowing it with a loud gulp.

"There!" she gasped, sticking her tongue out. "I am a martyr for the Rathore legacy!"

True to his word, the "Strict CEO" rolled up his sleeves, exposing his powerful forearms, and reached for the lavender oil. He took Aanvi’s "clumsy" feet into his lap.

As his "hard" hands began to knead away the tension from her arches, Aanvi’s entire body went limp. Her "innocent" eyes drifted shut, and she let out a long, happy sigh.

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

"Hmm?"

"Your hands are so big. They make my feet look like tiny dumplings."

"They are tiny dumplings," he murmured, his thumbs applying just the right amount of pressure. "Clumsy, wandering dumplings."

"I think the Pebble likes the massage too," she mumbled, her "clinging" hand reaching out to pat his knee. "It’s stopped doing the drum-thump and is now doing a happy wiggle."

As the thirty minutes drew to a close, Aanvi was barely awake. Shivank set her feet down gently and tucked the duvet around her. He moved to turn off the lamp, but she caught his sleeve, her "baby nature" surfacing one last time.

"Don't go to the study," she pleaded, her eyes half-closed. "The bed is too big without a Mountain."

Shivank looked at the emails waiting on his phone, then at his wife’s peaceful, "innocent" face. He tossed the phone onto the nightstand.

"The Mountain isn't going anywhere," he whispered, sliding into bed and pulling her into the ultimate "cuddle-lock."

Aanvi snuggled into his chest, her breathing evening out almost instantly. The "Strict CEO" held her close, realizing that while he could manage a billion-dollar empire, his most important job was simply being the pillow for a sleepy "Bird" and her "Pebble.".

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The morning sun filtered through the curtains, findind the Rathore suite in a rare state of calm—until the clock struck 8:00 AM. The "Mountain" was dressed in a sharp, charcoal-grey three-piece suit, looking every bit the formidable CEO, while the "Bird" was currently staging a sit-in at the breakfast table.

Aanvi sat with her arms tightly crossed, her breakfast toast untouched. Her "baby nature" was in high gear, and her "stubborn side" was locked and loaded.

"No," Shivank said, his voice "hard" and final as he folded his morning newspaper. "The office is not a playground, Aanvi. I have three back-to-back board meetings and a legal briefing. You are staying here with Maa."

"But Shivank-ji!" Aanvi pouted, her "innocent" eyes starting to shimmer with tears. "The Pebble is bored of these walls! It told me it wants to see where its Dadda makes the big scary decisions. It wants to see the 'Strict CEO' in his natural habitat!"

"The Pebble needs to rest," Shivank countered, his "strict" gaze narrowing. "And you are 'clumsy' enough in a house without rolling chairs and glass partitions. I’m not risking it."

Kavya, sipping her juice, couldn't help but smirk. "Oh, come on, Bhaiya. Look at her. If you leave her here, she’s just going to spend the day crying over cartoons again. Do you really want to get that 'penguin crisis' phone call in the middle of a merger?"

Mrs. Rathore nodded, patting Aanvi’s hand. "Shivank, beta, she is in her 'clinging' phase. It might be better for her nerves if she’s near you. Just for today?"

Even Mr. Rathore looked up from his coffee. "Take her, son. It’ll be a good lesson for your directors to see that even the 'Mountain' has a soft peak."

Aanvi saw the opening. She slid off her chair and "clumsily" hurried to Shivank’s side, grabbing his silk tie with her "innocent" hands. "Please, Shivank-ji? I’ll be so quiet! I’ll be like a little mouse. A mouse that occasionally needs snacks and cuddles."

Shivank looked down at her—the messy bun, the hopeful eyes, and the way she was "clinging" to his expensive suit. He let out a long, defeated sigh.

"Fine," he rasped, his "hard" exterior finally crumbling. "But one 'clumsy' incident, one 'vroom' sound during a meeting, and I am sending you home in a security van. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. CEO!" Aanvi squealed, jumping up and accidentally knocking his spoon onto the floor.

When the Rolls-Royce pulled up to the Rathore HQ, the employees stood in a line, ready to bow to their "Strict CEO." Their jaws collectively dropped when Shivank stepped out, followed by a beaming Aanvi who was wearing a bright yellow maternity dress and carrying her "Strict CEO" teddy bear.

"Good morning, everyone!" Aanvi chirped, waving at the stunned receptionists. "Don't mind me, I'm just the Assistant to the Pebble!"

As soon as they reached the penthouse office, the "snuggling" began.

Shivank sat at his massive mahogany desk, trying to review a contract. Within seconds, Aanvi had dragged a plush armchair right next to him. Then, dissatisfied, she simply crawled into the extra space on his large executive chair.

"Aanvi, what are you doing?" Shivank hissed, his face turning a "hard" shade of red as his secretary walked in.

"I’m 'nesting,' Shivank-ji," she whispered, "clinging" to his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. "Your suit smells like safety. Proceed with your business. Ignore the Bird."

For the rest of the afternoon, the "Hard CEO" had to navigate the corporate world with a "clumsy" attachment.

During a Video Call: Shivank was mid-sentence about quarterly profits when Aanvi’s "innocent" face popped into the frame. "Is that Mr. Gupta? Hi, Mr. Gupta! You look tired, you should eat a walnut!" Shivank had to manually move her head out of the camera's view, his hand trembling with "strict" restraint.

The Lunch Break: Aanvi "clumsily" spilled a drop of beetroot juice on his white shirt. Instead of getting angry, Shivank just sighed and put on his blazer to hide it, because she looked so genuinely horrified that she started to apologize to the shirt itself.

The Afternoon Slump: By 3:00 PM, Aanvi was tired. She didn't want the armchair. She climbed onto Shivank's lap while he was reading a legal brief.

"Aanvi, I have people coming in for a signature," he muttered, though his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Just five minutes, Shivank-ji," she mumbled, "clinging" to his lapels. "The Pebble is doing a nap-dance."

When the Vice President walked in five minutes later, he found the "Strict CEO" of the Rathore Empire typing one-handed on his laptop, while the other hand was gently stroking the hair of his sleeping wife, who was curled up on his lap like a "clumsy" kitten.

Shivank didn't even look up. He just gave the VP a "hard," silent glare that clearly said: If you wake her up, you're fired..

.The workday was drawing to a close, and the Rathore HQ was buzzing with the news that their "Hard CEO" had spent the afternoon as a human pillow. Shivank was just finishing a final, high-stakes email when he stepped away from his desk to take a quick call from the Chairman in the private balcony.

Left alone with the "glowing" computer, Aanvi’s "baby nature" took over. "The Pebble wants music," she whispered to herself. "The Pebble is tired of hearing about 'Interest Rates' and 'Liquidity.'"

She reached for the mouse with a "clumsy" hand. She meant to open a browser, but her finger slipped. She clicked, dragged, and—with a cheerful "innocent" hum—hit the "Delete" key on a folder labeled [URGENT] SINGAPORE MERGER FINAL.

Before she could find the singing shark, she accidentally emptied the trash bin to "make space for the music."

When Shivank walked back in, he saw the empty desktop and Aanvi staring at a "File Not Found" error. His heart skipped a beat—not out of love, but out of pure corporate horror.

"Aanvi... where is the Singapore folder?" he asked, his voice dropping into a "hard," dangerous register.

"I... I was just looking for the shark, Shivank-ji," she squeaked, her "clumsy" fingers twisting the hem of her yellow dress. "The screen was messy, so I cleaned it for you!"

Shivank’s "Strict CEO" mask slammed down. Months of work—gone. "You cleaned it? Aanvi, that was the merger final! I told you not to touch the keyboard!"

The ride home was a nightmare. Shivank sat stiffly in the back of the Rolls-Royce, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like marble. He was staring out the window, his "hard" silence more terrifying than any shouting.

"Shivank-ji?" Aanvi whispered, "clinging" to the edge of his sleeve.

"Don't," he snapped, his voice "strict" and icy. "Because of your 'clumsy' meddling, I have to spend the entire night with the IT team. I told you the office wasn't a playground, but you were too 'stubborn' to listen. You acted like a child, and now you’ve cost the company millions."

"I... I just wanted to hear the song," she whimpered, her "innocent" eyes filling with fat, heavy tears.

"Your songs don't run this empire, Aanvi! Your lack of discipline is becoming a problem!" He didn't look at her. He couldn't. If he looked at her, his "hard" resolve would break, but he needed her to understand the gravity of the mistake.

By the time they reached the mansion, the "Bird" was broken. As soon as the car door opened, Aanvi didn't wait for him. She "clumsily" scrambled out, tripping on the gravel but pushing herself up and running straight to their room.

Shivank followed a few minutes later, his "angry" fire cooling into a heavy guilt. He opened the bedroom door to find the room dark, except for the muffled, heartbreaking sounds of Aanvi sobbing into a pillow.

She was curled into a tiny ball, her "baby nature" completely crushed by his "strict" words.

"I'm a bad mother," she sobbed into the silk. "The Pebble has a stupid mommy... I ruined everything for the Mountain... I'm just a clumsy burden."

Shivank stood at the foot of the bed, his "hard" heart shattering at her words. He had been a CEO all day, but he had forgotten to be a husband. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Aanvi flinched away. "Don't touch the 'childish' girl! Go back to your computer!"

"Aanvi... look at me," he commanded, but this time his voice wasn't "strict"—it was cracked with regret. He gently forced her to turn around, pulling her shaking, tear-stained face into his lap.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his "hard" hands stroking her hair as she wailed into his chest. "I shouldn't have said those things. The merger is just paper and numbers. You and the Pebble... you are my life. I was stressed, but that’s no excuse to hurt my Little Bird."

Aanvi "clung" to his shirt, her sobs turning into small, hiccuping gasps. "You looked at me like... like you hated me! Your eyes were so scary!"

"I could never hate you," he murmured, kissing her forehead over and over. "I’ll stay up all night and fix the files. But I need you to stop crying. You’re making the 'Mountain' feel like a monster."

"You were a monster," she sniffled, wiping her nose on his expensive tie. "A big, mean, charcoal-suit monster."

"I know," he sighed, holding her tighter. "But this monster is going to get you some warm milk and hold you until you fall asleep. No more scolding. I promise."

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