"It has to be." His arms tightened around her. "Because it's all I can give you."
She should have fought harder. Should have demanded more. But she was so tired of fighting, so tired of being alone.
So she let him hold her in the garage as the sun set, surrounded by expensive cars and the ghost of the freedom she'd tasted that afternoon.
"Where did you go?" he asked finally.
"My bakery. I needed to check on it."
He tensed. "Alone? Without security?"
"I needed to feel normal again. To remember who I was before all this." She pulled back to look at him. "I'm not just your wife, Sidharth. I'm not just a Pradhan. I'm Advika. And I built something with my own hands, something I'm proud of. I needed to see it again."
Something shifted in his expression—understanding, maybe, or regret.
"You could have asked me," he said.
"Would you have let me go?"
His silence was answer enough.
"That's what I thought." She stepped out of his embrace, suddenly cold. "I'm going inside. I'm tired."
"Advika—"
"We'll talk later. Or not. Seems like that's your preferred method of communication anyway."
She walked into the house, leaving him standing in the garage, and didn't look back.
The next day, Advika found herself in the garden, sitting on a stone bench beneath an old banyan tree. It was mid-afternoon, and she'd successfully avoided everyone—Nisha at her society lunch, Sidharth at his office meetings, even the staff who seemed to sense she needed solitude.
She was staring at nothing, her mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings, when footsteps on the gravel path made her look up.
Rishabh.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the bench.
"It's your garden."
"It's yours too." He sat down, careful to leave respectful distance between them. "You've been crying."
It wasn't a question. Advika wiped at her face self-consciously. "I'm fine."
"You're really not."
They sat in silence for a moment. A bird sang somewhere in the trees. The fountain burbled peacefully. It was so at odds with the turmoil inside her.
"He's an idiot," Rishabh said finally. "My brother. A complete idiot."
Despite everything, Advika smiled. "You won't get an argument from me."
"He wasn't always like this, you know." Rishabh's voice was thoughtful, distant. "Before our parents died, he was different.He laughed more. Made jokes. Actually enjoyed life instead of just surviving it."
Advika turned to look at him. "What happened?"
"He loved our parents. Worshipped our father, especially. And the man who killed them? He was our father's best friend. Someone we'd known our whole lives. Someone we trusted." Rishabh's jaw tightened. "The betrayal destroyed something in Sidharth. He decided it was safer to trust no one. To keep everyone at arm's length so they couldn't hurt him."
"That's no way to live."
