A Bargain Made with Frosting

Ch 56. Rebuilding Trust After Betrayal

Shivay gently supported Annika as they exited the taxi, her movements sluggish and careful. The doctor had released her, but the whole ordeal had left her exhausted. They paused for a moment on the sidewalk, the familiar sights of Shimla a hazy blur through her tired eyes.

"We're here," Shivay murmured softly, a nervous tremor in his voice.

Annika's gaze settled on the house – Juhi Grandma's comforting haven where she'd sought refuge for the past few months. A wave of emotions crashed over her – relief at being back in a safe space, apprehension about facing Grandma, and a sliver of uncertainty about what awaited her inside.

With a deep breath, she nodded. Together, they walked towards the house, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

The door creaked open before they could knock, revealing Grandma's worried face. "Annika, beta! Are you alright? I panicked when you fainted like that yesterday. And no one informed me about your condition," she said, ushering Annika inside and settling her on the couch.

Annika replied, "Dadi, I'm sorry to worry you. It was just stress. I'm alright now."

Grandma sighed, reassured by Annika's words. Then her gaze flickered to Shivay, who stood awkwardly by the door.

Annika, her voice devoid of emotion, replied, "Grandma, this is my husband, Shivay."

Grandma stood there, stunned. She knew Shivay had left Annika, but she never expected to see him again.

Grandma guided Annika to her room. After Annika settled in, she beckoned Shivay inside. She wanted to understand him and get some answers to the many questions swirling in her mind.

The cozy living room felt anything but as Shivay followed Grandma inside. His heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs, the air thick with unspoken tension. Grandma, usually a beacon of warmth and kindness, now held him under scrutiny with eyes that gleamed like polished steel.

"So, you claim to be her husband," she began, her voice firm yet surprisingly calm.

Shivay could only manage a confirming nod, the weight of his actions pressing down on him.

"Shivay," Grandma continued, "I don't know what happened between you two that made you leave. But you waltzed back in just when Annika was starting to find her footing again. I don't understand. Why now?"

Shivay winced. He'd known this conversation was inevitable, a necessary hurdle on the long road to redemption. "Grandma," he began, his voice thick with regret, "I understand I don't deserve forgiveness, but please, hear me out."

He poured out his heart, laying bare the mistakes that had haunted him for months. He confessed his fear – fear of losing Annika, fear of her anger, fear of the fallout for their families. Shamefaced, he admitted his cowardly act of leaving, a misguided attempt to shield her from a devastating truth.

Grandma listened intently, her face an unreadable mask. When he finished, a heavy silence descended, broken only by the insistent ticking of the clock. Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with the wisdom of a life well-lived.

"Shivay," she said, "true love isn't about protecting someone from the truth, but about facing it together. You robbed Annika of the chance to grieve, to heal, to make choices for her own life. That was a grave mistake."

Shame burned hot in Shivay's eyes. "I know, Grandma. I was a fool. But Annika is my everything, and the thought of losing her again is unbearable."

Grandma sighed. The love in his eyes wasn't a lie, but trust, once shattered, was a fragile thing to mend. "Words are cheap, Shivay. Annika needs to see a change in you. Are you truly committed to being there for her, for the baby, through sunshine and storm?"

Shivay's voice rang with newfound conviction. "Absolutely. I'll dedicate the rest of my life to proving myself worthy of her love."

Grandma studied him intently, searching for any flicker of deceit. Finally, a glimmer of understanding softened her gaze. "Then show her, Shivay. Show her every single day. It won't be a walk in the park, but perhaps, just perhaps, there's a chance to rebuild what you've broken."

A spark of hope ignited within Shivay. He knew the journey wouldn't be easy. Rebuilding Annika's trust would be a slow, painstaking process. But with Grandma's cautious acceptance and his unwavering determination, he was ready to face the challenge. He had been given a second chance, and he wouldn't let it slip through his fingers.

Shivay's world revolved around Annika's house for the next few weeks. He became a familiar shadow, helping with chores, cooking meals, and offering quiet support. He'd even moved in with them to be closer, putting his restaurant job on hold. His dream was to restart his business in Shimla, a fresh start for him and the baby, a chance to offer the happiness he never had. He patched things up with his family over the phone, but a visit to the Oberoi Mansion or Mumbai was out of the question. The past threat from his father to snatch the baby if Annika didn't marry Rohit hung heavy in the air.

With Annika, Shivay walked a tightrope. Soft words, helpful gestures, but never an overstep. He was determined not to spook her. Annika remained an enigma. Fleeting moments – a flicker of warmth in her eyes, a ghost of a smile – hinted at the Annika he knew. But mostly, there was a cold distance, a fortress around her heart. Their past, their future, the baby – all shrouded in silence. It gnawed at Shivay, but he held his tongue, trusting that time and his actions would eventually chip away at the wall she'd built.

One afternoon, as Shivay helped Annika fold laundry, a tear escaped her eye and traced a glistening path down her cheek. He froze, his heart clenching. "Annika?" he whispered, his voice laced with concern.

She turned, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "It's just... I'm scared," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Shivay placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Me too," he admitted honestly. "But we'll face it together, okay?"

Annika leaned into his touch, a flicker of vulnerability replacing the usual stoicism. In that moment, a fragile bridge seemed to form between them, a tentative connection built on shared fear and unspoken hope.

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