Chapter Seven #2
The words hit like a physical blow.
"And?" Nisha pressed.
"And I'm looking into it."
Advika's vision blurred. Her hands trembled. He actually suspected her. After everything, after the past four months, after the nights in his bed and the slowly building trust—he actually thought she was capable of betrayal.
She should have walked away. Should have gone back to her book and pretended she hadn't heard.
Instead, she found herself moving toward his office, pushed by a rage and hurt so profound she couldn't contain it.
She shoved the door open without knocking. All three siblings turned to stare at her—Nisha with satisfaction, Rishabh with guilt, and Sidharth with his infuriating neutral mask.
"You think I'm the mole," Advika said, her voice shaking. "You actually think I'm betraying you."
"Advika—" Rishabh started.
"No." She held up a hand, her eyes locked on Sidharth. "I want to hear it from him. Do you think I'm feeding information to my father?"
Sidharth's jaw tightened. "I think I'd be a fool not to investigate every possibility."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have right now."
The words were like a knife between her ribs. She'd known he didn't trust her—had always known it—but hearing him say it, seeing the cold calculation in his eyes as he looked at her like she was just another suspect...
"My rooms have been searched," she said flatly. "I noticed this morning. Someone went through my things."
"Standard security protocol—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked. "Don't insult my intelligence. You had someone search my room because you think I'm a spy. Just admit it."
"I'm being thorough," Sidharth said, his tone still maddeningly calm. "After what happened—"
"After what happened, you decided the illegitimate daughter must be the traitor. Of course. Who else could it be?"
"I didn't say that—"
"You didn't have to!" The shout tore from her throat.
"God, I've been so stupid. Thinking we were making progress.
Thinking maybe you were starting to see me as a person instead of just a means to an end.
But this is what I'll always be to you, isn't it?
The Pradhan. The enemy. The woman who can never be trusted. "
"If you have nothing to hide—" Nisha interjected.
"Shut up," Advika snapped, her gaze never leaving Sidharth's face.
"This has nothing to do with having something to hide.
This has to do with my husband investigating me like a criminal instead of talking to me.
Searching my room instead of asking me questions.
Monitoring my phone—oh yes, I figured that out too—instead of trusting the woman he shares a bed with. "
Sidharth's expression shifted fractionally—surprise that she'd noticed, maybe, or respect for her perception.
"I don't know what you're capable of," he said quietly. "I don't know you."
The words were meant to be logical, practical. They destroyed her.
"And whose fault is that?" Advika's voice rose, months of hurt and frustration finally breaking free.
"WHOSE FAULT IS THAT, Sidharth? I've been here for four months.
Four months of trying to find my place, trying to build some kind of relationship with you, trying to be more than just the convenient wife. And you've shut me out at every turn!"
"That's not fair—"
"ISN'T IT?" She was yelling now, past caring who heard.
"You come to my bed at night, you touch me, you make love to me—or is it just fucking?
I can never tell with you—and then you leave.
You won't stay, won't talk, won't let me in.
And now you're surprised that you don't know me? That's on you, Sidharth. Not me."
"This isn't about our relationship—"
"Everything is about our relationship! Or lack thereof!
" She laughed bitterly. "You want to know if I'm betraying you?
Fine. Here's the truth—I have zero loyalty to my father.
The man sold me to secure a peace treaty.
He's never cared about me, never acknowledged me as his daughter except when it was convenient. I have no reason to help him. None."
"Advika—"
"But you know what I do have?" She moved closer, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
"I have a husband who doesn't trust me. A sister-in-law who hates me.
A marriage that's held together by sex and nothing else.
And apparently, now I have a criminal investigation into my loyalty.
So congratulations, Sidharth. You've successfully made me feel even more isolated and alone than I did when I first arrived here. "
"If you'd just let me—"
"Let you what? Explain why you don't trust me? Justify why you're treating me like the enemy?" She shook her head. "Save it. You know what? I don't care anymore. I don't care what you think of me. I don't care if you trust me. I don't care about any of this."
The lie tasted like ash on her tongue, but she said it anyway. Said it with all the conviction she could muster.
"Investigate me all you want," she continued, her voice dropping to something cold and dead.
"Search my things. Monitor my calls. Follow me around the estate.
Do whatever you need to do to satisfy your paranoia.
But don't expect me to keep pretending this marriage is anything more than what it is—a business transaction that happens to include sex. "
She turned toward the door, done with this conversation, done with all of it.
"Where are you going?" Sidharth's voice stopped her.
"Away from you." She looked back over her shoulder, and the expression on her face must have been something, because he actually flinched. "You can go to hell, Sidharth. And take your bitchy sister with you."
She slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.
Advika made it to the bedroom before the tears came. Great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body. She sank onto the floor, her back against the door, and let herself break.
Four months. Four months of slowly falling in love with a man who would never love her back. Four months of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could build something real.
And it had taken one attack, one moment of paranoia, for him to show his true colors. She would always be the Pradhan. The outsider. The woman who couldn't be trusted.
She didn't know how long she sat there crying. Long enough that the sun shifted, casting different shadows across the floor. Long enough that her tears dried up, leaving her feeling hollow and exhausted.
A soft knock on the door made her scramble to her feet. She wiped her face, trying to compose herself.
"Advika?" Rishabh's voice, gentle and concerned. "Can I come in?"
She opened the door. He took one look at her face and pulled her into a hug without a word. And God, she needed it. Needed the simple human comfort of someone who wasn't actively suspecting her of treason.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're the mole."
"That's one person, I guess."
He pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Sidharth doesn't think it either. Not really."
"Could've fooled me."
"He's scared," Rishabh said. "After our parents, after the betrayal that killed them... he doesn't trust easily. And when something threatens what's his, he lashes out. Pushes people away before they can hurt him."
"I'm not trying to hurt him," Advika said, her voice breaking. "I've never tried to hurt him."
"I know. And deep down, he knows too. But he's been burned before, and he'd rather suspect everyone than risk missing a real threat."
"That's not an excuse."
"No," Rishabh agreed. "It's not. But it's an explanation."
Advika sank onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. "I can't do this anymore, Rishabh. I can't keep loving someone who sees me as the enemy."
"You love him." It wasn't a question.
She nodded, too tired to lie. "I'm an idiot."
"No. You're human." He sat beside her. "Give him time—"
"Everyone keeps saying that. Give him time. He's broken. He's scared. But what about me?" Her voice rose. "What about what I need? What about my feelings? When do I get to matter?"
Rishabh had no answer for that. He just pulled her against his side, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
"For what it's worth," he said after a long silence, "he's miserable when you're upset. I've never seen him like this with anyone else. That has to mean something."
"It means he's possessive," Advika said bitterly. "Not that he cares."
"Maybe it's both."
She wanted to believe that. Wanted to cling to the hope that somewhere beneath Sidharth's ice-cold exterior, he actually felt something for her.
But wanting something didn't make it real.
Sidharth didn't come to their bedroom that night.
Or the next night.
Or the night after that.
Advika lay in the big bed alone, staring at the ceiling, and told herself she didn't miss him. Didn't miss the weight of him beside her, the sound of his breathing, the moments when he'd reach for her in the darkness.
She was lying to herself. Again.
On the fourth night, she heard footsteps outside the door. They paused, and she held her breath, waiting.
But the footsteps moved on, and she was alone again.
The trust that had never quite existed between them was now actively eroded. Every interaction was stilted, careful. He looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve. She looked at him like he was the enemy.
Maybe they always had been.
Maybe this marriage had been doomed from the start—a treaty signed in blood and sealed with vows that meant nothing.
Advika pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
Tomorrow, she'd get through another day. And another. And another.
She'd survive this, the same way she'd survived everything else.
Even if surviving meant accepting that the man she loved would never trust her enough to love her back.
Even if it broke her heart in the process.