Her love.
"Partners in everything," she repeated, signing the documents.
"Partners in everything," he confirmed, pulling her into a kiss that promised forever.
And for the first time in her life, Advika felt like she'd found where she belonged.
Not in the shadows. Not as someone's dirty secret or political pawn.
But as herself. Powerful, loved, and free.
Finally, finally free.
Chapter Fifteen
Ten Months Into Marriage
The morning started like any other Tuesday. Advika woke up wrapped in Sidharth's arms, his face buried in her hair, his breathing deep and even. She allowed herself a moment to just enjoy it—the weight of him, the warmth, the simple peace of being loved.
"I can feel you watching me," he mumbled, not opening his eyes.
"Prove it."
He cracked one eye open, a smile tugging at his lips. "Good morning, Mrs. Singhania."
"Good morning, Mr. Singhania." She traced patterns on his chest. "I have an early morning at the bakery. The Mehta wedding order needs to be finished today."
"Do you have to go?" His arms tightened around her. "I could think of much better ways to spend the morning."
"Tempting. But I have four staff members expecting me, and a bride who will have a meltdown if her cake isn't perfect."
"Fine." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But I'm holding you to a rain check."
"Deal."
She showered, dressed in comfortable clothes suitable for baking, and headed downstairs. Sidharth followed, still in his pajama pants and t-shirt, looking disheveled and gorgeous.
"Coffee first," he insisted, pulling her into the kitchen. "You're not leaving without caffeine."
They shared a quiet breakfast, his hand covering hers on the table, comfortable in a way that still sometimes surprised her. This—them, together, happy—felt like a miracle.
"I love you," she said suddenly.
He looked up, surprise and pleasure flickering across his face. "I love you too. What brought that on?"
"Nothing. Everything. Just wanted to say it."
"Say it as much as you want." He pulled her in for a kiss that tasted like coffee and promises. "I'll never get tired of hearing it."
At the bakery, her guards took their usual positions—one inside by the door, one outside. It had become routine over the past few months. She barely noticed them anymore.
"Morning, boss!" Meera called from the kitchen. "Ready to create magic?"
"Always."
They worked through the morning, falling into the familiar rhythm of creation. Advika loved this—the precision of measuring ingredients, the art of decoration, the satisfaction of building something beautiful from nothing.
She was in the zone, piping delicate sugar flowers onto the fourth tier of the wedding cake, when the front door chimed.
