But caring wasn't loving. Wanting wasn't needing. And she deserved more than just being wanted.
She cried until there were no more tears, until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen. Then she pulled herself up, washed her face in the bathroom sink, and stared at her reflection.
"You're going to be okay," she told herself. "You survived losing your mother. You survived growing up unwanted. You'll survive this too."
The words felt hollow, but she repeated them anyway. A mantra against the pain threatening to consume her.
She pulled out her phone, turned it off before she could be tempted to check for messages from him. Then she curled up on the small couch in her office, wrapped herself in a spare apron that smelled like vanilla and chocolate, and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, she'd figure out what came next. Tomorrow, she'd be strong.
Tonight, she let herself break.
Meanwhile, at the Singhania Estate
Sidharth stood in the middle of their bedroom, surrounded by evidence of Advika's hasty departure. The closet was half-empty. Her side of the bathroom counter was bare. The suitcase he'd thrown across the room lay open, her clothes spilling out like they were trying to escape too.
And her scent—vanilla and something uniquely her—hung in the air like a ghost.
She was gone.
Actually gone.
He'd let her walk out, had stood frozen while she left, unable to form the words that might have made her stay.
Tell me you love me.
The words had been right there, pressing against his teeth, trying to claw their way out. But years of conditioning, years of protecting himself, years of associating love with loss and pain had kept them locked inside.
And now she was gone.
"Fuck!" He swept his arm across the dresser, sending everything crashing to the floor. It didn't help. Nothing helped.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The bed still smelled like her. Everything in this room smelled like her. This whole house felt empty without her presence.
A knock on the door. "Bhai?"
"Go away, Nisha."
The door opened anyway. But it wasn't Nisha—it was Rishabh.
"I heard," he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door. "The whole house heard, actually. You two weren't exactly quiet."
Sidharth said nothing, just stared at his hands.
"So." Rishabh settled into the chair by the window. "Are you really going to let her go?"
"She deserves better than me."
"That's not your choice to make."
"Yes, it is." Sidharth's voice was harsh. "I'm the one who can't give her what she needs. I'm the one who's too fucked up to say three simple words. I'm the reason she's gone."
"Then go after her."
"And say what?" He looked up at his brother, feeling more lost than he had since their parents died. "I can't promise her I'll change. Can't promise I'll suddenly be the man she deserves. Can't even promise I can say the words she needs to hear."
"Bullshit." Rishabh leaned forward, his expression serious. "You love her. We all know it. I know it. Nisha knows it—why do you think she orchestrated that whole thing with Mihika? Because she sees what you refuse to admit."
