Author's pov

Aarvi sat in the backseat of the cab, her fingers restless as she dialed the same number again and again. Each unanswered ring added to the weight pressing against her chest. The cab driver stole glances at her through the rearview mirror, silently observing the impatience in her every movement—the way she tossed the phone beside her, only to pick it up moments later.

Her gaze shifted to the window. The city blurred past, indifferent to her turmoil. Her nails tapped anxiously against her thigh as she fought against the suffocating wave of unease.

Then, at last, the phone vibrated, the shrill ringtone cutting through the thick silence. She snatched it up, pressing it against her ear with a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"Hello," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

On the other end, the familiar voice spoke, warm yet hurried. "Hello, Aarvi ma’am. Baby is sleeping, and I was busy in the kitchen—that’s why I couldn’t pick up earlier."

Aarvi let out a slow breath, gripping the phone a little tighter. Relief and lingering tension tangled within her as she closed her eyes for just a moment.

Aarvi’s voice softened as she spoke, the tension in her grip on the phone easing just slightly.

“It’s okay, Meenu di," she murmured, more to reassure herself than anything. "I’ll reach this Sunday. And please, when she wakes up, dial me.”

She leaned back against the cab seat, exhaling as she stared out the window. The restless city continued to move past her, but her thoughts lingered elsewhere—on the tiny heartbeat she was desperate to hold again.

On the other side, Arjun Ranawat leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. The rhythmic clicking of his pen against the polished surface of his desk was the only sound in the vast office. As Rajasthan's Chief Minister, the king of Jaipur, and CEO of Ranawat Industries, power was not just a title—it was his reality.

His advisor stepped forward, voice steady but laced with urgency. “Sir, we found him. He’s near Kalyani Resort, close to the jungle area.”

Arjun’s smirk deepened as he dismissed the man with a mere nod. Now, this will be fun.

He picked up his phone, swiftly dialing his personal assistant. “Arrange the car. Guards too. I’m heading to Kalyani Resort.”

The resort belonged to his old friend Akash Mehrotra—his business partner. Tonight, Akash would be announcing a crucial project, one that had drawn in influential clients, top-tier industrialists, and the press. The event was set to be grand, the air thick with ambition and opportunity.

But for Arjun, this night wasn’t just about business. There was something—or rather, someone—waiting for him at Kalyani Resort.

Aarvi's Pov

I had just wrapped up my interview with Mr. Mehrotra and was ready to retreat to my hotel, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders. But Janhvi—her sister—caught me before I could leave. I couldn’t deny her request; she was a good friend, after all.

So, I stayed. Conversations flowed easily as she introduced me to her circle, and I found myself engaged in casual chatter. Then, something shifted. A change in the air—subtle, yet unmistakable.

The door swung open, and with it came an imposing presence. A man entered, flanked by a line of guards, their crisp suits exuding authority. The murmurs around the room stilled.

Arjun Ranawat.

The name alone was enough to command attention. The Chief Minister of Rajasthan, the king of Jaipur, and the formidable CEO of Ranawat Industries. I had seen him before—on screens, in headlines, in the reports my journalist friend had covered. Clever, shrewd, powerful.

But I had no reason to linger on his presence. As eyes followed him, I deliberately turned away, making my way towards the juice section. If others wished to orbit his influence, that was their choice. I had my own priorities

The moment felt like a pause in time—a soft, warm interruption to the hum of conversations around me.

I had just taken a sip of my juice when my phone buzzed, Meenu di’s name lighting up the screen. My heart lifted as I answered, and there she was—my Sasha, my little princess, cradled in her lap. The apple of my eyes, my world wrapped in four years of laughter, mischief, and endless love.

“Mumma, see!” she chirped, holding up a sheet of paper with eager hands.

A drawing—her tiny fingers had shaped our world with bright, clumsy strokes. It wasn’t perfect, not by any artistic standard. But to me, it was flawless. Absolutely perfect.

I smiled, warmth flooding through me. This was the kind of moment that made everything else fade into the background—the deadlines, the responsibilities, the endless race of adulthood.

Nothing mattered more than this.

The innocence in her tiny eyes, the excitement in her voice—it was enough to melt away every ounce of exhaustion.

She nodded, her little face lighting up as she looked at me.

“Don’t worry, bacha," I assured her gently. "When Mumma comes, she’ll bring lots of gifts for you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Doll?” she asked, tilting her head in that adorable way she always did.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

She broke into gleeful claps, her joy bubbling over like sunshine spilling into the room. And then, in that tiny, heartfelt voice, she said, “I love you, Mumma.”

My heart clenched with warmth.

“I love you too, bacha,” I whispered back, holding onto the moment—the purest kind of love wrapped in small hands and bright laughter.

Arjun's Pov

The lively chatter and laughter in the hall filled the air, a seamless blend of celebration and business. Glasses clinked, deals whispered between influential voices. But as I stepped inside, something shifted.

The atmosphere—once effortlessly casual—paused, just for a fraction of a second. Eyes flickered in my direction, conversations slowed. It was subtle, yet unmistakable. This was the power I carried, the presence I commanded.

And I loved it.

A smirk curled at my lips as I moved forward, unbothered by the glances that followed me. My strides were purposeful as I approached Akash, my trusted friend and business partner. He stood at the center of it all—tonight was his night, after all. But now, with me here, the stakes had changed.

I clapped him on the shoulder, my voice smooth. “Hope I’m not late to the party.”