Aanya's POV
The wrought-iron gates of the Singhania mansion swung open with a soft mechanical hum, and Aanya Sharma clutched her worn leather folder a little tighter against her chest. Her auto-rickshaw puttered away behind her, leaving her standing alone on the pristine marble driveway that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the three-story structure ahead.
Breathe, Aanya. It's just another interview.
Except it wasn't. This was the Advait Singhania's residence—the tech mogul whose AI startup, NexGen Solutions, had been featured on every business magazine cover for the past two years. The man who'd revolutionized India's EdTech sector and was now expanding into healthcare AI. The man whose face was always set in the same stern expression in every photograph she'd seen online during her frantic midnight research session.
The man who needed a nanny for his three-year-old son.
Aanya smoothed down her simple cotton kurti—peach with delicate white embroidery, paired with white palazzo pants. Nothing too fancy, but neat and professional. Her dupatta kept slipping off her shoulder, and she adjusted it for the third time as she approached the main entrance, where a uniformed security guard stood with an electronic tablet.
"Aanya Sharma, 10 AM appointment," she said, managing a smile despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.
The guard checked his screen, nodded, and spoke into his wireless earpiece. Within moments, an elderly woman in an elegant silk saree appeared at the doorway, her face lighting up with a warm smile that immediately put Aanya at ease.
"Aanya beta! Come, come inside. I'm Savitri Singhania—Aarav's dadi." The woman's eyes crinkled at the corners as she ushered Aanya into a foyer that looked like it belonged in an architecture magazine. Marble floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and a grand staircase curved upward to the right.
"Namaste, Mrs. Singhania," Aanya pressed her palms together, bowing slightly. "Thank you so much for this opportunity."
"Arre, just call me Dadi. Everyone does." Savitri linked her arm through Aanya's with surprising familiarity, guiding her through a hallway adorned with contemporary art pieces. "I've gone through fifteen nannies in the past year, beta. Fifteen! Either they can't handle my grandson's energy, or they can't handle my son's... temperament."
The way she said 'temperament' made it sound like a euphemism for something far less polite.
"I'm patient," Aanya offered. "I worked at Little Stars Orphanage in Pune for three years before completing my early childhood education degree. Children and I—we understand each other."
Savitri's expression softened. "You grew up there, didn't you? At Little Stars?"
Aanya nodded, her chest tightening the way it always did when her past came up. "Yes. From age four until eighteen. Sister Mary and Sister Agnes were like mothers to me. They encouraged me to study, helped me get scholarships. I owe them everything."
"Then you know what it means to crave family," Savitri said quietly, squeezing her arm. "Good. That's what my Aarav needs. Not someone who sees this as just a job, but someone who can love him."
Before Aanya could respond, a small, high-pitched shriek echoed from somewhere above them, followed by rapid footsteps.
"DADI! DADI, LOOK LOOK!"
A tiny figure appeared at the top of the staircase—a little boy with a mop of curly black hair, wearing Spider-Man pajamas and a cape made from what looked like a red towel. His eyes were huge and brown, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he waved something in his hand.
"Aarav, beta, walk carefully—" Savitri called out, but the boy was already thundering down the stairs with the reckless abandon that only three-year-olds possessed.
Aanya's instincts kicked in before she could think. She moved forward, positioning herself at the base of the stairs just as Aarav stumbled on the last three steps. She caught him mid-tumble, swinging him up into her arms with practiced ease.
"Whoa there, superhero!" she laughed as Aarav blinked up at her in surprise. "Even Spider-Man has to be careful on stairs."
For a moment, the boy just stared at her with those impossibly large eyes. Then his face broke into the biggest, most adorable grin Aanya had ever seen.
"You knows Spider-Man?" he whispered, his words tumbling together in excitement.
"Know him? I'm pretty sure I saw him swinging past my building last week," Aanya whispered back conspiratorially, tapping his nose. "But don't tell anyone. It's a secret."
Aarav giggled—a sound like bells chiming—and wrapped his small arms around her neck. Aanya's heart squeezed painfully. This. This was why she'd chosen this path, despite the low pay, despite the societal judgments about being an unmarried twenty-six-year-old "nanny." Children were pure joy, unburdened by the world's cruelty.
"I like you!" Aarav announced, bouncing in her arms. "What's your name? What's your name?"
"I'm Aanya. And you must be Aarav."
"Aru!" he corrected, holding up three fingers. "Dadi calls me Aru. You can calls me Aru too!"
"Aru," she repeated, and he beamed.
"Aarav."
The voice cut through the warm moment like a blade through butter—cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of emotion. Aanya looked up to find a man standing in the doorway of what appeared to be a study, and her breath caught despite herself.
Advait Singhania was taller than she'd expected, with broad shoulders filling out his crisp white shirt. His black trousers were perfectly pressed, and even without a tie, he looked like he'd stepped out of a boardroom. But it was his face that struck her—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes so dark they were almost black. He would have been handsome if not for the perpetual scowl etched into his features and the cold distance in his gaze.
"Papa!" Aarav wiggled in Aanya's arms, and she set him down gently. The little boy ran to his father, arms stretched wide. "Papa, Papa!"
But instead of picking him up, Advait simply placed a hand on his head briefly before looking at Aanya.
"You must be the candidate my mother selected." It wasn't a question. His tone suggested he'd rather be anywhere else than here, conducting this interview.
"Yes, sir. Aanya Sharma." She stepped forward, extending her hand professionally.
Advait stared at her outstretched hand for a beat too long before briefly shaking it. His grip was firm, impersonal, and over in less than two seconds.
"My study. Ten minutes." He turned to his mother. "Ma, keep Aarav occupied."
"Advait, at least offer the girl some chai—"
"Ten minutes," he repeated, already walking back into his study.
Aanya exchanged a glance with Savitri, who rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't mind him, beta. He was born grumpy. Even as a baby, he frowned at the milk bottle."
Despite her nervousness, Aanya laughed. Aarav tugged at her kurti. "You going talk to Papa? He always in there. With his 'puter. He doesn't play with me."
The sadness in those innocent words made Aanya's chest ache. She crouched down to his eye level. "Well, maybe we can change that. But first, I need to pass the interview. Wish me luck?"
Aarav nodded seriously, then threw his arms around her in a spontaneous hug. "Good luck, Aanya didi!"
Didi. Big sister. Such a simple word, but it cracked something open inside her. She blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes and ruffled his hair. "Thanks, Aru."
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