All he knew was that watching her with Rishabh made him want to storm down there and claim her. Mark her as his in every way possible. Make it crystal clear to everyone—including his brother—that she belonged to him.
But he'd already pushed her away. Already made it clear he didn't trust her. Already broken whatever fragile connection they'd been building.
And now she was finding comfort elsewhere. With someone who could give her what she needed.
The jealousy burned hotter, mixing with something that felt uncomfortably like regret.
He'd fucked this up. Badly. And he had no idea how to fix it.
Or if it was even fixable at all.
Sidharth turned away from the window, unable to watch anymore. His fist hit the desk hard enough to rattle the items on top, pain blooming across his knuckles.
He'd wanted to keep her at a distance. To protect himself from another betrayal.
But in doing so, he'd pushed her straight into someone else's arms.
And for the first time in years, since his parents' deaths, Sidharth Singhania felt truly, utterly lost.
Chapter Nine
It started with a scratchy throat.
Advika had noticed it two days ago but ignored it. She couldn't afford to be weak, not now. Not when she was barely holding things together as it was. So she pushed through—the aching muscles, the persistent headache, the way sounds seemed too loud and lights too bright.
By day three, she knew she was in trouble.
She'd woken up that morning drenched in sweat, her head pounding, her body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. The thermometer she'd found in the bathroom cabinet read 102.3°F. High, but manageable. She'd taken some medicine, forced herself to shower and dress, and gone downstairs for breakfast.
"You look terrible," Rishabh said the moment he saw her.
"Thanks. That's exactly what every woman wants to hear." Advika's voice came out rough, her throat protesting every word.
"No, seriously. Are you sick?" He stood, coming around the table to press his hand to her forehead. "Advika, you're burning up."
"I'm fine." She pulled away, pouring herself coffee with shaking hands. "Just tired."
"That's not just tired—"
"I said I'm fine." The words came out sharper than intended. She softened her tone. "I'll rest after breakfast."
Rishabh didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. Nisha, who'd been watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement,said nothing. Of course she didn't. Advika being sick was probably the highlight of her day.
Advika made it through breakfast by sheer force of will, though the toast tasted like cardboard and the coffee made her nauseous. She excused herself, planning to go back to bed and sleep this off.
She made it halfway up the stairs before the world tilted.
Dinner was a mistake.
Advika knew it the moment she sat down at the table, but she'd spent all day in bed and couldn't bear the thought of another evening alone in that room. So she'd dragged herself downstairs, dressed in a simple salwar kameez, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.
The fever hadn't broken. If anything, it had gotten worse. Her skin felt too tight, her bones ached, and there was a persistent ringing in her ears that made concentration nearly impossible.
But she sat. She smiled when appropriate. She pushed food around her plate and pretended to listen to the conversation flowing around her.
"—the Malhotra deal should close by Friday," Sidharth was saying. He'd been talking business with Rishabh, barely acknowledging her presence. Par for the course, these days.
"Advika, you're not eating," Rishabh observed, his voice concerned.
