"I should go," Advika said reluctantly, looking at the array of pastries they'd created. "Before they send a search party."
"Will you be able to come back?" Meera asked.
"I'll try. I can't promise, but I'll try." Advika pulled off her apron, suddenly anxious about what awaited her. "Take photos of everything we made today. Post them on social media. Remind people we're still here."
"Will do, boss."
The drive back to the estate felt far too short. By the time she pulled through the service entrance—successfully again, thank God—the sun was setting and her anxiety had reached critical levels.
She'd just parked in the garage when she saw him.
Sidharth stood in the doorway leading into the house, and even from this distance, she could see he was furious. His entire body radiated rage—jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides, eyes blazing.
Advika got out of the car slowly, steeling herself.
"Where the hell have you been?" His voice was low, dangerous, barely controlled.
"Out," she said simply.
"OUT?" He stalked toward her, and she instinctively took a step back. "You disappeared for five hours. No warning, no guards, no security. I've had men searching the entire city for you!"
"I didn't realize I needed permission to leave my own home."
"This isn't about permission!" He was shouting now, all that careful control shattered. "You could have been killed! Do you understand that? Do you have any idea what you—"
He stopped abruptly, as if realizing he was about to say something he couldn't take back.
"What do I mean to you, Sidharth?" Advika asked, her voice deadly calm. "Finish that sentence. What do I mean? A bargaining chip? A warm body for your bed? The treaty bride you have to keep alive for political reasons?"
"You're—" He struggled with the words, his jaw working. "You're mine to protect."
"Yours to protect." She laughed bitterly. "Not your wife. Not someone you care about. Just a possession you're obligated to keep safe."
"That's not what I meant—"
"Then what did you mean?" She moved closer, anger overriding her self-preservation instincts. "Because I've spent a week being treated like a criminal in my own home. A week of you avoiding me like I'm diseased. A week of everyone looking at me likeI'm the enemy. And now you're angry because I left without permission? You don't get to have it both ways!"
"I was worried!" The admission seemed torn from him. "I thought—" He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling. "When I came home and you were gone, when my men said you'd left without security, I thought..."
"Thought what?"
"That someone had taken you. That they'd hurt you. That I'd—" His voice cracked. "That I'd lose you."
The words hung between them, raw and honest in a way he'd never been before.
"You think I betrayed you," Advika said, her voice breaking. "You've been investigating me, monitoring my phone, treating me like a spy. And now you're upset that I left? You can't have it both ways, Sidharth. You can't suspect me of treason and then claim to be worried about my safety."
"I know." He closed the distance between them in two strides. "I know, and I'm—"
He grabbed her, pulling her against him, and kissed her. It was bruising, desperate, claiming—all the emotion he couldn't voice expressed through touch.
Advika's first instinct was to push him away, to maintain her anger and her dignity. But her body betrayed her, melting into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back with equal desperation.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard.
"You're mine to protect," he said against her lips, his forehead pressed to hers. "That's all you need to know right now."
"That's not enough," she whispered.
