"Nisha did what?"
"Oh, please. You think Mihika just randomly showed up with the code to your office? Nisha's been trying to sabotage this marriage from day one because she's terrified of losing you to someone else."
Sidharth's hands clenched into fists. "She—"
"Deal with Nisha later. Right now, focus on Advika. On whether you're going to let the best thing that ever happened to you walk away because you're too scared to be vulnerable."
"I'm not scared—"
"Yes, you are." Rishabh's voice was gentle but firm. "You're terrified. Because loving her means risking the kind of pain you felt when we lost Mom and Dad. Means opening yourself up to potential betrayal like with Uncle Raghav. Means being vulnerable in a way you haven't allowed yourself to be in five years."
The words hit too close to home. Sidharth looked away, his jaw clenched.
"When did it happen?" Rishabh asked quietly. "When did you fall in love with her?"
"I don't—"
"Yes, you do. You know exactly when. So tell me."
Sidharth was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I don't know if there was one moment. It was... gradual. Pieces of her that kept chipping away at my walls."
"Like what?"
"The way she stood up to Nisha that first breakfast. How she refused to be intimidated even though she was scared." His voice was rough with emotion. "The way her whole face lights upwhen she's baking. The passion she has for creating something beautiful. The way she's strong enough to handle my world but soft enough to cry about her mother."
"What else?"
"The way she says my name like it's a prayer. The way she fits perfectly against me when we sleep. The way she challenges me, pushes me, refuses to let me hide behind my walls." He stood, pacing. "Her wit. Her fire. Her resilience. The way she survived everything life threw at her and still has the capacity to love, to hope, to believe in something better."
"You love her," Rishabh said. It wasn't a question.
"I—" The words stuck in his throat, years of conditioning fighting against the truth. "I don't know how to do this. How to be what she needs."
"What does she need?"
"Someone who can be soft. Someone who can say 'I love you' without feeling like they're cutting their own throat. Someone who doesn't default to possession and control when emotions run high." Sidharth's laugh was bitter. "I don't know how to be that person, Rishabh. I've spent five years being hard. Being closed off. Being the ruthless bastard everyone expects."
"Then learn." Rishabh stood, moving to face his brother. "Learn how to be soft for her. Learn how to be vulnerable. Learn how to say the words she needs to hear. Before you lose her permanently."
"What if it's too late?"
"What if it's not?" Rishabh gripped Sidharth's shoulder. "What if she's sitting in her bakery right now, crying, hoping you'll comeafter her? Hoping you'll finally fight for her the way she's been fighting for you for nine months?"
Sidharth closed his eyes, and suddenly he could see it—Advika curled up somewhere in that bakery, alone and hurting, thinking he didn't love her. Thinking she wasn't enough.
When the truth was she was everything.
Everything he'd been too afraid to claim.
"I love her," he said quietly. The words were easier than he'd expected, once he let himself say them. "God, I love her so much it terrifies me."
"Then go tell her that."
"What if she doesn't believe me? What if I've hurt her too many times?"
"Then you grovel. You beg. You spend every day for the rest of your life proving you mean it." Rishabh's grip tightened. "But you don't give up. Not on her. Not on this."
Sidharth looked at his brother, then at the empty bedroom that felt like a tomb without her in it.
