"That's one person, I guess."
He pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Sidharth doesn't think it either. Not really."
"Could've fooled me."
"He's scared," Rishabh said. "After our parents, after the betrayal that killed them... he doesn't trust easily. And when something threatens what's his, he lashes out. Pushes people away before they can hurt him."
"I'm not trying to hurt him," Advika said, her voice breaking. "I've never tried to hurt him."
"I know. And deep down, he knows too. But he's been burned before, and he'd rather suspect everyone than risk missing a real threat."
"That's not an excuse."
"No," Rishabh agreed. "It's not. But it's an explanation."
Advika sank onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. "I can't do this anymore, Rishabh. I can't keep loving someone who sees me as the enemy."
"You love him." It wasn't a question.
She nodded, too tired to lie. "I'm an idiot."
"No. You're human." He sat beside her. "Give him time—"
"Everyone keeps saying that. Give him time. He's broken. He's scared. But what about me?" Her voice rose. "What about what I need? What about my feelings? When do I get to matter?"
Rishabh had no answer for that. He just pulled her against his side, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
"For what it's worth," he said after a long silence, "he's miserable when you're upset. I've never seen him like this with anyone else. That has to mean something."
"It means he's possessive," Advika said bitterly. "Not that he cares."
"Maybe it's both."
She wanted to believe that. Wanted to cling to the hope that somewhere beneath Sidharth's ice-cold exterior, he actually felt something for her.
But wanting something didn't make it real.
Sidharth didn't come to their bedroom that night.
Or the next night.
Or the night after that.
Advika lay in the big bed alone, staring at the ceiling, and told herself she didn't miss him. Didn't miss the weight of him beside her, the sound of his breathing, the moments when he'd reach for her in the darkness.
She was lying to herself. Again.
On the fourth night, she heard footsteps outside the door. They paused, and she held her breath, waiting.
But the footsteps moved on, and she was alone again.
The trust that had never quite existed between them was now actively eroded. Every interaction was stilted, careful. He lookedat her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve. She looked at him like he was the enemy.
Maybe they always had been.
Maybe this marriage had been doomed from the start—a treaty signed in blood and sealed with vows that meant nothing.
Advika pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
