Advika tried to work. Tried to lose herself in baking the way she always did. But she couldn't focus, couldn't stop herself from checking the window every few minutes.
He was still there.
At noon, Meera showed up for her shift, stopping short when she saw Sidharth.
"Uh, boss?" she called through the door. "Is there a reason your husband is standing in the street looking like a kicked puppy?"
"Don't let him in," Advika said.
"I wasn't planning to. But Advika... he looks pretty miserable."
"Good."
But she looked again, and Meera was right. Sidharth did look miserable. His perfect suit was rumpled. His hair—always so carefully styled—was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, suggesting he hadn't slept.
He'd probably been up all night. Like she had.
"How long is he planning to stay there?" Meera asked.
"I don't know. I don't care."
Another lie. She cared. God, she cared so much it was killing her.
The afternoon wore on. Rishabh showed up around three, trying to talk to Sidharth, but from what Advika could see through the window, Sidharth refused to leave. Rishabh eventually drove away, shaking his head.
Around five PM, the rain started. Not a gentle drizzle, but a full downpour, the kind that soaked you to the bone in seconds.
Sidharth didn't move. Didn't seek shelter in his car. Just stood there, getting drenched, his eyes never leaving the bakery door.
"Okay, that's just stupid," Meera said, watching from the window. "He's going to catch pneumonia."
"Not my problem."
"Advika—"
"I said it's not my problem!" Her voice broke. "He made his choice. He had a chance to ask me to stay, to give me a reason, and he didn't. So whatever he's doing out there now, that's on him."
Meera was quiet for a moment. "What did he do? To make you this angry?"
"He didn't do anything. That's the problem." Advika sank into a chair, her energy depleted. "He's never done anything wrong, technically. He just... he can't love me. And I can't keep loving someone who can't love me back."
"Did he say he doesn't love you?"
"He couldn't say anything. I asked him to give me one reason to stay, and he just stood there. Silent."
"Maybe he didn't know how to say it," Meera suggested gently.
"Then he should have figured it out!" The words burst from her. "I've spent nine months learning his language, adapting to his world, trying to understand his trauma and his walls. The least he could do is learn three words. Three simple words."
Meera said nothing, just pulled Advika into a hug while she cried. Again. She was so tired of crying.
When Advika finally pulled away, wiping her eyes, Meera gestured to the window. "He's still there."
He was. Soaked to the bone, shivering slightly from the cold, but standing firm. Like he'd stand there forever if that's what it took.
The mafia king, reduced to waiting in the rain for his wife.
Something about the image cracked something in Advika's chest. He looked... broken. Lost. Like she felt.
