He didn't initiate sex this time. Just climbed into bed, and for the first time in four months of marriage, he didn't build the pillow wall.
Advika lay on her side, facing him across the small distance. His eyes were open, watching her in the darkness.
"Why did you marry me?" she asked quietly. "The real reason. Not the treaty or the alliance. Why me specifically?"
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer.
"Because you're a Pradhan, but you're not," he finally said. "You're on the outside of your family the same way I'm on the outside of the world. I thought... maybe you'd understand. What it's like to be alone even when you're surrounded by people."
The admission cost him. She could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his hands fisted in the sheets.
"I do understand," she whispered. "I've understood from the beginning."
"I know." His hand reached across the space between them, finding hers. Their fingers intertwined, and he squeezed once. "That's the problem."
He fell asleep still holding her hand. And for the first time since their wedding night, he didn't leave.
It was progress. Small, fragile, but real.
Advika watched him sleep, memorizing the relaxed lines of his face, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
She was in love with him. Completely, irrevocably in love with her husband.
And she had no idea if he'd ever be able to love her back.
But tonight, with their hands linked in the darkness, she let herself hope.
Just a little.
Chapter Seven
The argument started over breakfast, as most things with Nisha did.
Advika had come down to find Nisha holding court in the dining room, Mihika at her side like always. The two women had their heads bent together, whispering and giggling in that particular way designed to make whoever walked in feel excluded.
"Morning," Advika said, pouring herself coffee and determinedly not reacting to their presence.
"Advika!" Nisha's voice was overly bright. "We were just talking about you."
"How thrilling for you both."
"Mihika was asking about your bakery," Nisha continued, her smile sharp. "Sinfully Sweet, was it? Such a... quaint name."
"It's a reference to the seven deadly sins," Advika said, sitting down with her coffee. "Each one represented by a different dessert. Pride was a chocolate torte, Envy was a matcha cheesecake, Lust was—"
"How clever," Mihika interrupted, her tone suggesting it was anything but. "Playing with religious concepts to sell cupcakes."
"They were cakes, actually. And I wasn't playing. I was running a successful business."
"Past tense," Nisha noted. "How sad that you had to give it all up."
Advika's grip tightened on her mug. "I didn't give it up. It was taken from me."
"Same difference." Nisha waved a dismissive hand. "Either way, you're here now. Playing housewife. Or is it housekeeper? I can never tell."
Four months ago, Advika might have let that slide. Four months ago, she was still trying to find her footing, still hoping for some kind of peace.
But four months of Nisha's constant digs, four months of being treated like an intruder in her own home, and she was done being diplomatic.
