Dearest Shivaay, || Shivika AU FF

𝔸 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘

Screw it. He couldn't. 

As his eyes took in her facial features, as his arms clasped around her waist, as his soul screamed to be with her, he forgot the world. "Shiv—" she began, and he pressed his fingers to her plump pink lips, shushing her. The moment she fell silent again, he fixed her with his cyan orbs. She held his gaze with equal passion. 

It was not one of those peaceful moments portrayed on TV, where you could see the butterflies erupting in their stomachs, or hear soft music playing in the background. It was intense. You could feel the enigma arousing in their minds. It was almost the sound of wind, rushing between them, enticing their souls, creating havoc on their senses. 

Unlike butterflies or fireworks. It was...adrenaline. The feeling of excitement, fear, joy, and nervousness all at once. Like grasping all the air you could as you reached the top of the highest peak on the rollercoaster. And then, the drop of dejection as their minds clicked into place and regained control. 

He cleared his throat and helped her to stand. "Be careful," he stated as he straightened himself. Anika watched as he walked away. 

When he was a reasonable distance away from her, she turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Unbeknownst to themselves, a pair of eyes keenly captured the sequence in shock. How could her gut have been so wrong, she pondered to herself. No, no, she assured. It was nothing of the sort. She trusted him enough to know he'd never knowingly hurt her. A jumble of thoughts, she walked away from the crime scene. A pang of guilt trailed her, voicing her deepest insecurities. 

"I don't understand, Tia. How could you be my daughter?!" Turvi Kapoor shouted. Tia's eyes shut tightly, serving as a weak dam for her tears. "Chin up, Tia. Stand straight. I'm not going to remind you again. Smile, Tia." 

"Listen to your mother, Tia," Vaibhav Kapoor chided. A forced smile that gave nothing away. Small clothes that covered not enough. Blinding white lights. Camera flashes. Prepped hair. Face caked with makeup. She felt plastic. 

And yet, it was her life. A small tragedy, starting at broken and ending at virtually perfect. Sickeningly sublime. She was prohibited to complain. Groomed to be the trophy wife of Shivaay Singh Oberoi. It was a nauseating profession, to be Tia Kapoor. But oh, how effortlessly she did it all. "Tia, darling, one more!" the photographer said, basically commanding her in a nice tone. She caught the leers of the two 'assistants to the photographer.' Ugh, how repugnant. 

How she hated her mother, for forcing her on this path of modeling. For allowing her to sell Tia's body to the designers that paid too well. How she hated her father, for being so out of the picture, and so often forgetting Tia's existence. 

More than that, how she hated herself, for giving herself away to these people. For disrespecting her own body, her own choices, her own life. And all for the sake of Mommy dearest, who was far too busy cashing out the cheques her daughter handed her, spending them on designer bags and shoes. But not once seeing past those things to look at her own daughter's demise.  

The Kapoor family was essentially and simply put, broken beyond repair. And no one could do anything to change that, because the distance between their hearts had grown too far. If Tia inched forward, or reached out her hand, no one would be there to receive it. No one. And that was what broke her apart. 

Priyanka, Ishana, and OmRu were sitting idly at six thirty in the afternoon. Unusual, it was. Rudra was frowning: yet another unusual occurence. Om seemed lost, which wasn't as unusual as is was to see him drinking coffee. Shivaay's coffee. Prinku and Ishana were also distant, not chattering excitedly as they usually did. All in all, a very confusing sight for the beholder of this scenario—Jhanvi Singh Oberoi. 

As far as she knew, Rudra was due at the gym. Priyanka was to pore over her textbooks. Ishana was supposed to be at her own house. Om was...well, supposed to be locked in his room, whiling away at one of his idols. What could these four possibly be up to? 

"I HAVE IT!" Rudra shouted, causing Om to nearly lose his balance and fall. "Did you have to shout?" he asked, regaining his composure. "Shut up, Om. What do you have, Rudy?" Ishana asked eagerly. 

"I think we should get him to drink my—" 

"No punch," Om, Ishana, and Priyanka all said simultaneously. Rudy frowned. "Why not?" he whined. "Because nothing ever ends well with your punch," Om said. Ishana and Priyanka nodded in agreement. "Well, you could give it a try—" 

"NO PUNCH, Rudra. That's the end of that. Come up with something else," Ishana said. 

The four fell into silence once more. Jhanvi decided to step in. "Kya chal raha hai, bacho?" she asked with a smile. They all exchanged nervous looks. 

"Kuch nahi, Jhanvi Aunty," Ishana blurted. Jhanvi raised her eyebrow. "Something is definitely up." 

"We're just planning," Om said before he could stop himself. The other three facepalmed and mentally smacked Om approximately 20 times. "Sach ka boyfriend, kaha tha na maine, Ishu Di," Rudy muttered to Ishana, who looked annoyed at her boyfriend. 

Jhanvi smiled. "It's okay. You can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone. Is it about Shivaay?" she asked. Ishana nodded weakly. "What are you guys planning to make him do?" 

"Mom, we're trying to get him to confess his feelings..."Om began.

"For Tia?" she asked. Priyanka shook her head shyly. "Then?" 

"For Anika Didi," Rudy said. Jhanvi sighed. "Guys, he's getting married to—" 

"We know, we know! We're not trying to sabotage the wedding or anything! We just wanna try to get Bhaiya to realize that he won't be happy with Lady Baba. I know, Mom! Trust me, we won't cross our limits," Rudy begged. Jhanvi looked up, shook her head at her children, and turned to leave. Before she left, however, she said, "Men always respond best when they are jealous." 

Then, she walked away to let her kids cook up a plan.