"Can we talk?" he asked.
"Can I say no?"
"You can. But I'm hoping you won't."
Advika closed her book, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Fine. Talk."
He sat, and for a long moment, he just studied her. She met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away first.
"I owe you an apology," he finally said.
"You think?"
"I suspected you without real cause. I let my paranoia and my past cloud my judgment. I made you feel like a criminal in your own home." His jaw tightened. "That was wrong. I was wrong."
The apology should have felt satisfying. Instead, it just made her tired.
"You know what the worst part was?" Advika's voice was quiet. "Not that you suspected me. I understand paranoia after betrayal. But that you never asked. You investigated, monitored, searched my things—but you never just sat down and asked me directly if I was betraying you."
"Would you have told me the truth?"
"You'll never know, will you? Because you didn't trust me enough to ask." She stood, needing to move. "I've been here for five months, Sidharth. Five months of trying to build something with you, trying to earn your trust, trying to be more than just the treaty bride. And the moment something went wrong, you immediately assumed I was the problem."
"You're right." The admission seemed to cost him. "I let my fear override my reason."
"Your fear of what? That I'd hurt you? Betray you like your parents' killer did?"
"Yes." The single word was raw, honest. "After what happened to them, after seeing what betrayal from someone trusted can do... I've spent five years keeping everyone at arm's length. Not letting anyone close enough to destroy me."
"And then you married me."
"And then I married you." His smile was bitter. "A Pradhan. The daughter of a man who's been my enemy for years. Every logical part of my brain said not to trust you. Said to keep youat a distance, keep you under surveillance, never let my guard down."
"But?"
"But you weren't what I expected." He stood, moving to the window, his back to her. "You were supposed to be a pawn. A means to an end. Someone I could compartmentalize, keep in a box labeled 'political necessity.'"
"What am I instead?"
He turned, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. "You're everything I didn't know I needed. And that terrifies me more than any enemy ever could."
The confession hung between them, vulnerable and honest in a way he'd never been before.
"Tell me about your mother," he said suddenly. "The real story. Not the gossip or the rumors. Who was Akshara Singh?"
The question surprised her. In five months of marriage, he'd never asked about her past, her family, her life before him.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because Nisha used her memory as a weapon against you. Because I realized I know nothing about the woman who shaped you into who you are." He moved closer. "Because I want to know you, Advika. Really know you. And I think that starts with understanding where you came from."
Advika sank back into her chair, emotions welling up. "She was beautiful. Kind. She loved to sing—she had the most beautiful voice. When I was little, she'd sing me to sleep every night."
Her voice cracked on the last word. Sidharth sat across from her, leaning forward, his complete attention on her.
"She met my father at some business event. She was working as an event coordinator. He was already married, already had Abhishek, but he pursued her anyway." Advika's hands twisted in her lap. "She knew it was wrong. She knew she should walk away. But she loved him. Genuinely loved him. And she thought he loved her back."
"He didn't?"
