Four words. Simple. But they meant everything.
For a moment, they just stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the evidence of her passion, and Advika felt a connection forming. Fragile as spun sugar, but real.
Then Sidharth set down the plate, his walls slamming back up with almost audible force. His expression closed off, becoming the cold mask she knew so well.
"Clean up when you're done," he said, his tone dismissive. "The kitchen staff will be up in a few hours."
And just like that, the moment shattered.
Advika watched him walk away, her heart sinking. For just a few minutes, she'd glimpsed something beneath the ice—a manwho could appreciate beauty, who could connect with another person's passion.
But he'd locked it away again, retreating behind his walls where she couldn't follow.
Still, as she cleaned up the kitchen, carefully boxing the remaining torte, Advika couldn't quite suppress the small spark of hope.
He'd noticed she was gone from bed. He'd tasted her creation. He'd seen her—really seen her—for just a moment.
It wasn't much. But it was more than she'd had before.
Two Weeks Later
"Oh, Advika, could you bring me some tea?" Nisha's voice drifted from the living room where she sat with two of her society friends. "Earl Grey, please. And make sure it's not too hot."
Advika, who'd been walking past on her way to the library, stopped dead. She turned slowly to face Nisha, who was smiling that particular smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
They'd had an uneasy truce since Sidharth had "spoken" to his sister—which apparently meant a conversation that changed nothing except making Nisha more creative with her cruelty.
"The kitchen is that way," Advika said, pointing. "I'm sure you remember where it is, having grown up here and all."
Nisha's friends exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"I'm asking you," Nisha said, her voice saccharine sweet. "Surely you're not too busy?"
"Actually, I am. I was just about to read a book. You know, that thing with pages? Very time-consuming."
One of Nisha's friends—Priya, Advika thought her name was—made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
Nisha's eyes flashed. "It's just tea—"
"Then it should be easy for you to get it yourself."
"You're being incredibly rude—"
"Am I?" Advika stepped fully into the room, done with dancing around this. "Because from where I'm standing, you asking me to serve you tea in front of your friends, when there's a full kitchen staff available, seems pretty rude. Unless you'd like to explain how that's different?"
"It's different because I'm asking my sister-in-law for a favor," Nisha said through gritted teeth. "Which normal people do in normal families."
"Right. And in normal families, sisters-in-law don't ask each other for 'favors' that look suspiciously like orders." Advika smiled, all teeth. "So here's a thought—next time you want tea, ring for the staff. That's literally their job. Or, radical idea, make it yourself. The kettle isn't that complicated."
"Bhai is going to hear about this," Nisha hissed.
"Great. I'll wait here while you call him. I'm sure he'll love being interrupted from whatever meeting he's in to hear about the tea emergency."
Rishabh's voice came from behind her. "What tea emergency?"
Advika turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, clearly trying not to smile. He'd been doing that more lately—showing up during Nisha and Advika's confrontations like he was watching a particularly entertaining show.
"Nisha wants tea," Advika explained. "I suggested she get it herself. Apparently, this is controversial."
