The days blurred together in a monotonous pattern that felt like drowning in slow motion.
Advika woke alone. Ate breakfast while enduring Nisha's barbs and Rishabh's awkward attempts at civility. Wandered the massive estate like a ghost, exploring rooms she'd never use and gardens too perfect to feel real. Ate lunch alone in her room because facing Nisha again was too exhausting. Spent afternoons staring at her phone, checking messages from Meera about the bakery, feeling her life slipping away.
And at night, Sidharth would return.
He'd enter their bedroom late—always after midnight—moving quietly through his routine. Shower. Check his phone. Finally, slip into bed on his side, maintaining a careful distance. He'd built a wall of pillows down the center of the bed the second night, a physical barrier that might as well have been made of concrete.
They never spoke. Never touched. Never acknowledged each other beyond the bare minimum required by cohabitation.
He was a stranger who happened to share her bed, and she was... nothing. A fixture in his house. Less important than the furniture.
By the end of the first week, Advika was going mad.
The estate was enormous—twenty bedrooms, multiple living areas, a library she wasn't sure she was allowed to use, gardens that went on forever. But it felt like a prison. Beautiful, luxurious, and utterly suffocating.
She tried to find purpose. Tried to carve out a space for herself.
"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked Lakshmi one afternoon, desperate for something to do.
The housekeeper looked uncomfortable. "That's very kind, Mrs. Singhania, but we have everything under control. Mr. Singhania is very particular about how the household runs."
Of course he was.
She tried to discuss dinner menus. Was told the chef had already planned the week's meals.
She tried to organize the library. Was informed by a tight-lipped staff member that it was "already organized to Mr. Singhania's specifications."
She tried to work on her laptop, managing Sinfully Sweet remotely. But without being able to visit the bakery, to create, to do what she loved, it felt hollow. Meera sent daily updates that only made the ache worse.
Meera: Mrs. Kapoor loved the cake! Wants to book us for her daughter's engagement.
Meera: The new chocolate tart recipe you sent is amazing. Sold out in two hours.
Meera: When are you coming back? The place isn't the same without you.
Never. The answer was never, and they both knew it.
Advika was forbidden from leaving the estate. "Security reasons," Sidharth had said in one of their rare, clipped conversations. As if she were a target. As if she mattered enough to be targeted.
She was nothing here. Expected to do nothing, be nothing, exist as a pretty trophy on a shelf.
And Nisha made sure she never forgot it.
It was the end of the second week when things finally came to a head.
Advika was in the main living room, curled up with a book she wasn't really reading, when Nisha swept in with Mihika in tow. The two women were laughing about something, their voices carrying that particular pitch of female camaraderie that made it clear Advika wasn't part of the joke.
"Oh," Nisha said, feigning surprise at finding her there. "I didn't realize anyone was using this room."
"It's a living room," Advika replied without looking up from her book. "It's meant to be lived in."
"Yes, well, Mihika and I need to discuss some things. Private things." Nisha settled onto the sofa across from Advika, Mihika curling up beside her like a cat. "You understand."
The dismissal was clear. Advika was supposed to leave.
She didn't move.
"I'm comfortable here, thanks," Advika said, turning a page. "Feel free to use another room. The house has twenty of them."
