Yamini’s mouth tingled. She was just about to reach for it when her eyes caught the attention of a small black velvet box.
She frowned slightly.
She hadn't seen it when she sat down. It was placed close enough to her plate that it had been partially obscured by the kahwa cup when Savita set it down.
She looked at it for a moment, wondering what it was and why it was placed at the breakfast table. She reached for it and lifted the lid, and froze completely.
The emerald fish pendant lay against dark velvet, catching the morning light in fragments of deep green and white. The fish shape was elegant and strong, the emerald so deep it bordered on forest green, the diamonds edging it without overwhelming it.
Her great-grandmother's necklace—the same one Tina had been bidding for at the exhibition yesterday, the same one that wasn't supposed to be released until the auction closed this evening.
She stared at it for a long moment, unable to process what it was doing next to her breakfast plate.
She lifted her eyes.
Across the table, Bharat turned a page on his phone.
He was still reading. His expression gave nothing away. His pink-hued, noon chai cup sat at a precise angle beside his plate. The morning continued around him as though nothing had happened, as though placing her family's history beside her breakfast was a routine task he had already moved past.
Her throat tightened.
“Why did you buy the emerald pendant?” she asked.
He didn't look up. “You wanted it.”
Her heart gave an unwanted flutter that she immediately suppressed. She set the box down beside her plate and kept her voice even.
“Who told you I wanted it?” she asked.
“The security stated you were upset,” he said, swiping on his phone. “It was more efficient to resolve the matter immediately.”
She stared at him.
“It belonged to your family,” he added. “Allowing it to pass into someone else’s possession would be illogical.”
For one ridiculous moment, she had almost believed this gesture meant something else. But buying the emerald pendant was purely driven by cold logic and efficiency.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
He didn’t say anything. Not even a quick ‘you're welcome’.
The gratitude she felt turned into irritation.
“You should have used the card,” he said. “It would have been simpler.”
He was right. She recalled almost reaching for the card the previous day. But had stopped herself for a reason.
“I don’t need your money,” she gritted. “And I certainly don’t need rescuing.”
He took a sip of his pink-hued tea. “I do not rescue,” he said. “I secure.”
She let out a short, annoyed breath. “I'm not one of your acquisitions.”
He looked up then. His golden-brown eyes met hers across the table and held. “No,” he said. “You are my wife.”
Her heart jerked at his words.
But she had to once again remind herself that he was simply stating a logical fact. It meant nothing.
