.

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.Shivank stayed there for a long time, sitting in the dimly lit room with Aanvi’s head resting on his lap. Her sobs had finally transitioned into those small, involuntary post-crying tremors that made his heart ache with a "hard" guilt he wasn't used to feeling.

He didn't move, even when his legs began to go numb. He just kept stroking her hair, his "Strict CEO" fingers now moving with a rhythmic, soothing grace.

"Aanvi," he whispered, leaning down so his lips were brushed against her temple. "Look at me. Please."

She slowly lifted her face, her "innocent" eyes swollen and red, her cheeks stained with the salt of her tears. She looked so small against his large frame, a "clumsy" little bird he had accidentally crushed in his grip.

"Do you... do you still want to send me away in a security van?" she asked, her voice hitching in a tiny, heartbreaking hiccup.

"Never," Shivank rasped, his "hard" expression melting into a look of raw devotion. "I would burn that van to the ground before I let it take you away from me. I was wrong. I let the pressure of the office make me forget that my world starts and ends with you."

Aanvi reached up, her "clumsy" hand trembling as she wiped a stray tear from his eye. Even when she was hurting, her "innocent" heart couldn't bear to see the "Mountain" in pain.

"I didn't mean to delete the Singapore," she whispered. "I just wanted to see if the sharks were happy."

"I know," he murmured, catching her hand and kissing the palm. "And the sharks are very happy. My IT team found a backup, Aanvi. Nothing was lost. All those mean things I said... they were for nothing."

Aanvi’s lower lip wobbled again, but this time it wasn't from sadness. She "clung" to his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "You were so scary, Shivank-ji. You sounded like the thunder when it's angry at the trees."

"Then I'll spend the rest of the night being the sunshine," he promised, his arms tightening around her with a "hard" protectiveness.

He gently shifted her, laying her back against the pillows. He stood up only long enough to discard his charcoal blazer and tie—the symbols of the "Strict CEO" that had caused the rift—and climbed into bed beside her in his dress shirt.

Aanvi immediately migrated toward him, her "clinging" nature taking over as she tucked her cold feet between his calves.

"Is the Pebble okay?" she asked softly, her hand resting on her stomach. "Does it know its Dadda was just being a 'Strict Boss' and not a 'Mean Dadda'?"

Shivank placed his hand over hers, his large palm covering her fingers and the life growing beneath them. "The Pebble knows that its Dadda is a fool who loves its Mommy too much to stay angry for even a second."

Aanvi finally let out a small, tired giggle. "You have to say sorry to the Pebble too."

Shivank leaned down, his face inches from her stomach. "I'm sorry, Pebble," he whispered, his "hard" voice turning into a gentle hum. "Your Dadda is a 'Mountain' with a very thick head. Please don't be 'clumsy' like your Mommy, or I'll never have a moment's peace."

"Hey!" Aanvi pouted, hitting his arm weakly.

"Go to sleep, little bird," he murmured, pulling the duvet over both of them. "Tomorrow, there will be no offices, no mergers, and definitely no 'Baby Shark' on my computer. Just us."

Aanvi closed her eyes, her breathing finally becoming deep and rhythmic. Shivank stayed awake for a long time after that, watching her sleep, making a silent vow to keep his "Strict CEO" mask far away from the woman who held his heart in her "clumsy," beautiful hands..

.

The next morning, the sun crept into the room with a gentle, apologetic light, as if trying to make up for the storm of the night before. Shivank had been awake for over an hour, but he hadn't moved a single muscle.

The "Strict CEO" was gone. In his place was a man completely enthralled. He was propped up on one elbow, his "hard" gaze softened into a look of pure, unadulterated adoration.

Aanvi was still deep in sleep, her "clumsy" nature apparent even in her rest. She had somehow managed to kick the duvet halfway off the bed, and her head was resting not on her pillow, but on Shivank’s bicep. Her dark hair was a wild, silken halo across his chest, and her lips were parted just slightly, letting out the tiny, rhythmic huff of a "Little Bird."

Shivank reached out with a hand that usually signed deals worth billions, his fingers trembling slightly as he hovered over her face. He didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't stop himself from tracing the air just millimeters above her skin.

He traced the curve of her "innocent" forehead, where the worry lines from her crying had finally smoothed out.

He lingered over her eyelashes, still slightly clumped from her tears, feeling a fresh pang of "hard" guilt at how he had treated her.

He watched the way her nose twitched in her sleep—a "baby nature" habit that always made his heart do a "marshmallow" flip.

"How did I get so lucky?" he breathed, his voice a ghost of a whisper.

To the world, she was "clumsy" and "stubborn," but to him, she was the only thing that made the "Mountain" feel human. She was the light that cut through his "strict" shadows.

His gaze drifted down to her hand, which was still "clinging" to the fabric of his shirt even in her sleep. Then, his eyes moved to her stomach. It was still flat, showing no outward sign of the "Pebble," but the way Shivank looked at her was different now. There was a fierce, primal "hard" protectiveness in his eyes.

He realized that he didn't just love her; he worshipped the peace she brought him. He watched a stray sunbeam dance across her cheek, and for the first time in years, Shivank Rathore didn't check his watch. He didn't care about the market opening or the Singapore merger.

He just wanted to stay here, in this quiet sanctuary, watching his "Sleeping Beauty" breathe.

Aanvi stirred, her nose scrunching as the sunlight hit her eyes. She let out a small, "baby-natured" moan and tried to bury her face deeper into his arm.

"Wake up, little bird," Shivank murmured, his voice thick with morning warmth. He leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple. "The sun is waiting to see its favorite girl."

Aanvi’s eyes fluttered open, blinking up at him with a hazy, "innocent" confusion. When she saw the look of pure love on his face—no "strictness," no "anger," just him—she let out a tiny, sleepy smile and "clung" tighter to his neck.

"Shivank-ji..." she croaked. "Are you still being sunshine?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be," he whispered, pulling her closer.

.

.

.The morning light was golden and warm, but the atmosphere at the breakfast table was about to shift from "sweet" to "struggle." Shivank sat at the head of the table, not in his usual charcoal suit, but in a relaxed linen shirt, his "Strict CEO" persona completely shelved for the day.

"I’ve cleared my schedule, Aanvi," Shivank announced, watching her "clumsily" attempt to spread jam on a piece of toast. "No meetings, no Singapore merger, no shark-deleting scares. I'm staying home with you and the Pebble."

Aanvi’s face lit up with "innocent" joy. "Really?! No 'Hard CEO' today? Just my Shivank-ji?" She was so excited that she did a little seated dance, her elbow "clumsily" knocking into her glass of orange juice.

Crash! The glass shattered against the marble floor, orange liquid splashing everywhere.

"Oops!" she squeaked, her "baby nature" making her look immediately guilty. "I... I was just so happy, the glass got scared!"

Shivank didn't even flinch. He just signaled the staff to clean it. "It’s just a glass, Aanvi. Don’t worry about—"

He stopped mid-sentence. He noticed Aanvi’s "innocent" smile suddenly freeze. Her face, which had been flushed with excitement, turned a sickly, translucent shade of pale.

The smell of the buttery toast, the fried eggs, and the rich coffee—the very breakfast she had been "clinging" to a moment ago—suddenly became her worst enemy.

"Aanvi?" Shivank’s voice went "hard" with concern.

She didn't answer. She clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and watery. The "Morning Sickness" hit her like a freight train. She pushed back from the table so violently her chair nearly tipped over.

"Shivank... ji..." she managed a muffled whimper before bolting toward the nearest sink.

Shivank was on his feet in a second. He reached her just as she bent over, her small frame heaving as she vomited everything she had managed to eat. The "clumsy" girl was now a "shaking" girl, her hands "clinging" to the edge of the porcelain so hard her knuckles were white.

"Shh, I've got you," Shivank murmured. He didn't care about his expensive linen shirt or the mess. He stepped behind her, pulling her hair back with one hand and supporting her heaving chest with the other. He was a "Mountain" of stability while her world was spinning.

Heave. Aanvi let out a sob between retches. "The Pebble... the Pebble hates breakfast, Shivank-ji! It’s throwing it all back!"

When the waves finally passed, Aanvi was limp in his arms, her eyes red-rimmed and her "innocent" spirit exhausted. Shivank picked up a cool, damp cloth and began wiping her face with a tenderness that would have shocked his board of directors.

"The Pebble doesn't hate breakfast, little bird," he whispered, his "hard" voice now a soothing lullaby. "It's just making room for itself."

He picked her up, her head lolling onto his shoulder, and carried her away from the smell of the food. He sat her on the sofa in the living room, where the air was fresh.

"I'm so 'clumsy' even my stomach can't hold things," she sniffled, "clinging" to his hand like a lifeline. "Are you going to be 'strict' because I wasted the eggs?"

Shivank leaned down, pressing a firm, loving kiss to her pale forehead. "I am going to be the 'Strict Husband' who makes sure you lie down for the next hour. No eggs, no juice. Just water and me."

Aanvi looked up at him, her "baby nature" returning as she pouted. "And cuddles? The Pebble says it needs 'Mountain Cuddles' to stop the tummy-flips."

"And cuddles," he promised, pulling her into his lap and shielding her from the rest of the world..

.After the morning's exhausting ordeal, Shivank decided that the bedroom was too stifling for Aanvi's recovery. He wanted her to have fresh air, but he wasn't about to let her "clumsily" wander the gardens on her own.

Shivank carried her out to the sprawling, secluded terrace that overlooked the estate’s private lake. He had the staff set up a literal "Nest"—a massive outdoor daybed piled high with hypoallergenic silk pillows and a weighted cooling blanket.

"Shivank-ji, I can walk! I’m not a glass doll," Aanvi protested weakly, though she was "clinging" to his neck like he was her only source of oxygen.

"Today, you are exactly that," Shivank replied, his voice "hard" with a protective edge that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. He settled her into the pillows with the precision of a man handling a diamond.

Aanvi sat back, her "innocent" eyes watching him with curiosity. Usually, Shivank was on his laptop by now, but today, his hands were busy with a bowl of ice water and a slice of fresh ginger.

"My stomach feels like it’s on a boat in a storm," she whispered, her "baby nature" making her sound small and tired.

"Then I’ll be the anchor," Shivank murmured. He sat at the edge of the daybed and took a small piece of ginger, offering it to her. "The doctor said this helps. Small bites, Aanvi."

As she nibbled on it, he took a silk cloth, dipped it in the ice water, and began to gently dab her pulse points—her wrists, the back of her neck, and her temples. His "hard" hands, which usually commanded thousands, were now focused entirely on the temperature of her skin.

"Does it feel better?" he asked, his "strict" gaze searching her face for any hint of paleness.

"It feels... tingly," she giggled, her "clumsy" hand reaching out to play with the buttons of his linen shirt. "You’re being very 'Nanny-Shivank' today. Are you going to give me a gold star for not throwing up for ten minutes?"

Shivank didn't laugh, but a small, rare dimple appeared near his mouth. He set the cloth aside and pulled her closer, letting her head rest against his chest so she could hear his heart.

"I’ll give you whatever you want, as long as you stay still and heal," he said.

Aanvi sighed, her "clinging" nature taking over as she snuggled into his warmth. "Shivank-ji? Since you're being so nice... can you read to me? But not the 'Business Times.' I want a story where the prince is a big mountain and the princess is a strawberry who becomes a queen."

Shivank looked at the stack of documents he had brought out just in case, then looked at his "innocent" wife. He picked up a book of classic poetry from the side table—something his mother had left there.

"Once upon a time," he began, his deep, "hard" baritone vibrating through her head, "there was a mountain that thought it was made of stone. But then, a little strawberry landed on its peak, and the mountain realized it was actually made of... marshmallow."

Aanvi giggled, her eyes finally starting to droop with a peaceful sleepiness. "That's a very good story, Shivank-ji. You're a very good marshmallow."

Within minutes, she was asleep, her breathing deep and even for the first time since the "Morning Sickness" began. Shivank didn't stop reading, though. He continued to recite the verses in a low, soothing hum, his hand protectively covering her stomach where the "Pebble" lay.

He stayed like that for hours, acting as a human shield against the wind and the noise of the world, proving that the "Strict CEO" was at his best when he is "Aanvi’s Mountain.".

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Continue.......