"I said, get your own tea. I'm not your servant."
"No, you're my brother's wife. Which means you're part of this family. And in this family, we help each other."
"Really?" Advika set her book down, her patience finally snapping. "Because from where I'm sitting, 'helping each other' seems to go one direction. You want help, ask the actual staff. That's what they're paid for."
"The staff is busy," Nisha said through gritted teeth. "And you're sitting right here doing nothing."
"Reading isn't nothing."
"It is when there are guests who need refreshments."
Advika stood, her hands clenched into fists. Every day of being dismissed, ignored, treated like she didn't matter—it all came rushing up.
"Fine," she said. "I'll get your tea."
Nisha's smile was triumphant. "Thank you. That's very—"
"On one condition," Advika continued. "You ask me nicely. Actually, no—you say please. And you acknowledge that I'm doing you a favor, not fulfilling some duty as your unpaid servant."
The room went silent. The two society women looked like they wished they could disappear. Mihika's eyes were wide.
Nisha's face flushed. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I? Or am I just tired of being treated like I'm less than human in my own home?"
"This isn't your home," Nisha spat. "This is the Singhania Estate. My home. Where I grew up. Where I belong. You're just... temporary. A piece on a chessboard that will be discarded when you're no longer useful."
Something in Advika cracked. The last fragile thread of composure she'd been clinging to.
"You know what? I'm done." She grabbed her book and walked toward the door. "Enjoy your tea party. I'm sure the staff will be happy to serve you."
"Don't you dare walk away from me," Nisha called after her. "I'm not finished—"
"But I am." Advika stopped at the door, looking back. "I'm finished being your punching bag. Finished pretending this is normal. Finished smiling while you treat me like garbage. You want to hate me because I'm a Pradhan? Fine. Hate me. But I won't make it easy for you anymore."
She left, her heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
It felt good. Terrifying, but good.
For about ten minutes.
Then Sidharth came home.
Advika was in the bedroom when she heard his footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Purposeful. Angry.
The door opened, and Sidharth walked in, his expression thunderous. He was still in his suit from work, his tie loosened, but there was nothing relaxed about his posture.
"What," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "did you say to my sister?"
Advika stood from where she'd been sitting on the bed. "She told you her version already, I'm guessing."
"I'm asking for yours."
"She ordered me to serve her tea in front of her friends. Like I was the hired help. When I refused, she made it clear I don't belong here and never will." Advika lifted her chin. "So I left. Apparently, that's a crime."
"You embarrassed her."
"She embarrassed herself."
