"What?" Sidharth asked, glancing at her.
"Nothing. Just... thank you. Really."
His hand found hers across the console, squeezing once. "You're welcome."
The next few weeks brought a shift in the household dynamics.
Advika threw herself into setting up the new bakery. She spent her days there, working alongside Meera to organize inventory, test equipment, develop new recipes. Sidharth had meant it about the security—two guards were always present, rotating shifts, but they stayed unobtrusive, letting her work without feeling watched.
And Sidharth... changed.
He still wasn't openly affectionate in front of others. Still maintained his cold businessman persona during the day. But there were small differences that added up:
He'd text her during the day—just simple things like "How's the baking going?" or "Don't forget to eat lunch."
He started coming home earlier, timing it so they'd have dinner together.
He asked about her day and actually listened to the answers, asking follow-up questions about recipes and staffing decisions.
One evening, he even showed up at the bakery unannounced, claiming he was "in the neighborhood," though they both knew he'd gone out of his way. He'd sampled everything she'd made that day, offering thoughtful feedback, and she'd caught him smiling at her flour-dusted appearance with something that looked dangerously like fondness.
Even the nights changed. The sex was still intense, passionate, but there was more tenderness now. He'd hold her after, stay the whole night, and sometimes they'd just talk in the darkness—about nothing and everything, building the foundation they should have built from the start.
Nisha noticed the shift, of course.
"You're spending a lot of time with her," she commented one morning at breakfast, her tone carefully neutral.
"She's my wife," Sidharth replied without looking up from his paper.
"You gave her a bakery."
"She's a talented baker. It made sense."
"And the guards? The security system that costs more than most people make in a year?"
"Her safety is important."
Nisha's jaw tightened, but she said nothing more. She'd been noticeably quieter since the luncheon incident, especially after Sidharth had a private conversation with her that Advika hadn't been privy to. Whatever he'd said, it had worked—at least partially. Nisha still wasn't warm, but she was less overtly hostile.
Progress. Slow, painful, but progress nonetheless.
The business dinner came three weeks after Advika's bakery opened.
It was a necessity—politicians and business associates Sidharth needed to schmooze, deals that needed to be made, appearances that had to be maintained. Advika had been getting better at these events, learning how to navigate the shallow conversations and political maneuvering.
She'd worn a deep sapphire blue gown that hugged her curves before flowing to the floor. Sidharth's eyes had darkened when he'd seen her, and he'd pulled her into a heated kiss before they'd left, murmuring "You're stunning" against her lips.
The event was being held at a five-star hotel. Advika recognized many of the faces now—politicians she'd met before, business associates who'd attended their wedding, members of other families in their world.
And then there was Ambassador Rohan Mehra.
He was in his early forties, handsome in a distinguished way, with silver threading through his dark hair and warm brown eyes. He'd been seated next to Advika—a deliberate choice by the hosts, probably, putting her next to someone diplomatic and charming rather than in the usual power-broking conversations.
"Mrs. Singhania," he greeted her warmly. "A pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard wonderful things about your bakery."
"Ambassador Mehra." She accepted his handshake. "Thank you. We just opened a few weeks ago."
"Please, call me Rohan. And I'd love to hear about it. I'm something of a dessert enthusiast myself."
