"We should go inside," Advika finally said, though she made no move to pull away.
"In a minute." He pressed kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. "I'm not done with you yet."
"We're in a car—"
"Then let's move this inside." He pulled out carefully, helping her adjust her dress. "To our bedroom. Where I can take my time with you properly."
They barely made it through the front door before they were on each other again. Sidharth had her pressed against the wall in the foyer, his hands everywhere, murmuring words against her skin that sounded like confessions.
They left a trail of clothes from the foyer to the stairs to their bedroom—her dress, his jacket, his shirt, shoes kicked off haphazardly.
By the time they reached the bed, they were both desperate again.
He laid her down with surprising gentleness, his eyes roaming over her body with undisguised hunger and something that looked almost like reverence.
"You're so beautiful," he said, settling between her thighs. "So perfect. Mine."
"Yours," she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss.
This time, they took their time. He worshipped every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands, finding every spot that made her gasp and whimper. She explored him in turn, mapping the scars on his body with gentle fingers, kissing each one like she could heal old wounds with her lips.
When he finally entered her again, it was slow and sweet, their eyes locked, no walls between them. They moved together in perfect synchronicity, two people who'd been at odds finally finding their rhythm.
"I—" Sidharth started, then stopped, his jaw clenching.
"It's okay," Advika whispered, understanding. "I know. I can feel it."
The words he couldn't quite say yet were there in his touch, in the way he held her, in the way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world.
It would have to be enough.
For now, it was.
They fell asleep tangled together, satisfied and content, the walls between them cracking just a little bit more.
And for the first time in their marriage, both of them felt like maybe—just maybe—they were going to make it after all.
Chapter Twelve
Nine Months Into Marriage
Things had been good. Better than good, actually.
Advika's bakery was thriving—word had spread quickly about the quality of her work, and she had orders booked weeks in advance. The ambassador's event had been a massive success, leading to more high-profile clients. She spent her days doing what she loved, surrounded by her small staff, creating beauty from flour and sugar.
And Sidharth... Sidharth had been different. Not perfect—he still struggled with vulnerability, still defaulted to possession rather than affection when emotions ran high. But he was trying. Really trying.
He'd started saying things like "I missed you" when she came home late from the bakery. He'd show up with coffee during her work hours, claiming he was "just passing by" even though they both knew he'd gone out of his way. He'd hold her hand during dinner, trace patterns on her skin while they talked in bed at night, kiss her forehead for no reason at all.
It felt like they were finally building something real. Like maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it.
Advika should have known better than to trust happiness.
It was a Thursday evening. Advika had stayed late at the bakery working on a complicated wedding cake order, losing track of time the way she always did when she was creating. By the time she got home, it was past ten.
The house was quiet. Most of the staff had retired for the night. Advika kicked off her heels in the foyer—God, her feet were killing her—and headed toward the stairs. She'd shower, maybe find Sidharth in their bedroom, fall asleep in his arms like she'd been doing for the past few months.
But as she passed his home office, she heard voices. The door was slightly ajar, light spilling out into the hallway.
