"I didn't say that—"
"You didn't have to!" The shout tore from her throat. "God, I've been so stupid. Thinking we were making progress. Thinking maybe you were starting to see me as a person instead of just a means to an end. But this is what I'll always be to you, isn't it? The Pradhan. The enemy. The woman who can never be trusted."
"If you have nothing to hide—" Nisha interjected.
"Shut up," Advika snapped, her gaze never leaving Sidharth's face. "This has nothing to do with having something to hide. This has to do with my husband investigating me like a criminal instead of talking to me. Searching my room instead of asking me questions. Monitoring my phone—oh yes, I figured that out too—instead of trusting the woman he shares a bed with."
Sidharth's expression shifted fractionally—surprise that she'd noticed, maybe, or respect for her perception.
"I don't know what you're capable of," he said quietly. "I don't know you."
The words were meant to be logical, practical. They destroyed her.
"And whose fault is that?" Advika's voice rose, months of hurt and frustration finally breaking free. "WHOSE FAULT IS THAT, Sidharth? I've been here for four months. Four months of trying to find my place, trying to build some kind of relationship with you, trying to be more than just the convenient wife. And you've shut me out at every turn!"
"That's not fair—"
"ISN'T IT?" She was yelling now, past caring who heard. "You come to my bed at night, you touch me, you make love to me—or is it just fucking? I can never tell with you—and then you leave. You won't stay, won't talk, won't let me in. And now you're surprised that you don't know me? That's on you, Sidharth. Not me."
"This isn't about our relationship—"
"Everything is about our relationship! Or lack thereof!" She laughed bitterly. "You want to know if I'm betraying you? Fine.Here's the truth—I have zero loyalty to my father. The man sold me to secure a peace treaty. He's never cared about me, never acknowledged me as his daughter except when it was convenient. I have no reason to help him. None."
"Advika—"
"But you know what I do have?" She moved closer, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "I have a husband who doesn't trust me. A sister-in-law who hates me. A marriage that's held together by sex and nothing else. And apparently, now I have a criminal investigation into my loyalty. So congratulations, Sidharth. You've successfully made me feel even more isolated and alone than I did when I first arrived here."
"If you'd just let me—"
"Let you what? Explain why you don't trust me? Justify why you're treating me like the enemy?" She shook her head. "Save it. You know what? I don't care anymore. I don't care what you think of me. I don't care if you trust me. I don't care about any of this."
The lie tasted like ash on her tongue, but she said it anyway. Said it with all the conviction she could muster.
"Investigate me all you want," she continued, her voice dropping to something cold and dead. "Search my things. Monitor my calls. Follow me around the estate. Do whatever you need to do to satisfy your paranoia. But don't expect me to keep pretending this marriage is anything more than what it is—a business transaction that happens to include sex."
She turned toward the door, done with this conversation, done with all of it.
"Where are you going?" Sidharth's voice stopped her.
"Away from you." She looked back over her shoulder, and the expression on her face must have been something, because he actually flinched. "You can go to hell, Sidharth. And take your bitchy sister with you."
She slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.
Advika made it to the bedroom before the tears came. Great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body. She sank onto the floor, her back against the door, and let herself break.
Four months. Four months of slowly falling in love with a man who would never love her back. Four months of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could build something real.
And it had taken one attack, one moment of paranoia, for him to show his true colors. She would always be the Pradhan. The outsider. The woman who couldn't be trusted.
She didn't know how long she sat there crying. Long enough that the sun shifted, casting different shadows across the floor. Long enough that her tears dried up, leaving her feeling hollow and exhausted.
A soft knock on the door made her scramble to her feet. She wiped her face, trying to compose herself.
"Advika?" Rishabh's voice, gentle and concerned. "Can I come in?"
She opened the door. He took one look at her face and pulled her into a hug without a word. And God, she needed it. Needed the simple human comfort of someone who wasn't actively suspecting her of treason.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're the mole."
