Chapter Thirteen
Advika woke on the couch in her office, stiff and cold, her eyes swollen from crying. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then it all came rushing back—the scene in Sidharth's office, Nisha's poisonous words, the bedroom she'd fled from, the words he couldn't say.
She pulled out her phone, turning it on with shaking hands. Twenty-three missed calls. Fifteen text messages. All from him.
She deleted them without reading. Whatever he had to say via text, she didn't want to hear. If he couldn't say the words to her face, she didn't want them at all.
The morning light filtered through the bakery windows, soft and gray. It was going to rain—she could feel it in the air. Perfect weather for her current mood.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, tried to make herself look human. Failed miserably. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy. She looked exactly like what she was—a woman whose heart had been shattered.
The banging on the front door started around eight AM.
"Advika!" Sidharth's voice, muffled by the glass. "Advika, I know you're in there. Please. We need to talk."
She stayed in her office, door closed, pretending she couldn't hear him.
The banging continued for ten minutes, then stopped. She waited, expecting him to leave.
He didn't.
When she finally worked up the courage to peek through the window, she found him standing on the sidewalk across from the bakery, leaning against his car, arms crossed, watching the door.
Waiting.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.
But he wasn't. Hours passed, and he remained. People walked by, doing double-takes at the sight of Sidharth Singhania—billionaire businessman, known mafia king—standing on a public street in his expensive suit, clearly waiting for someone.
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.
"I'm leaving," Meera announced. "And I'm not coming back until morning. Whatever you two need to work out, work it out."
"Meera—"
"Talk to him, Advika. Or don't. But stop torturing both of you." She grabbed her bag, pausing at the door. "For what it's worth, I've never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you. Like you're the sun and he's been living in darkness."
Then she was gone, leaving Advika alone with her thoughts and the man standing in the rain outside.
Advika watched him for another hour. Watched him shiver. Watched people hurry past him, some recognizing him, all giving him strange looks. Watched him stand there with a determination that should have been annoying but was somehow... devastating.
The sun was setting, the rain showing no signs of stopping. He'd been out there for over twelve hours. All day. All night, if his appearance was any indication.
For her.
"Goddammit," Advika whispered.
She couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't watch him stand there, soaked and miserable, waiting for her. Even if she was angry. Even if she was hurt. Even if she wasn't sure she could trust him with her heart again.
She walked to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.
Sidharth's head snapped up, his eyes—red-rimmed and exhausted—locking onto hers.
"What do you want?" Her voice came out harder than she felt.
"You." His voice was hoarse, probably from standing in the cold rain for hours. "I want you."
"You had me. You didn't want me."
"I did want you. I do want you." He took a step forward, water dripping from his hair, his suit clinging to his body. "I was just too much of a coward to admit how much."
"That's not—"
"I was scared." The admission seemed torn from him. "Terrified, actually. Of what you make me feel. Of how much power you have over me. Of how completely you've destroyed every wall I spent five years building."
Advika's hands clenched at her sides. "So you pushed me away."
"So I pushed you away," he agreed. "Because loving you feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, one moment of trust misplaced, and I could fall. And the fall would destroy me."
"Loving me?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Loving you," he confirmed. He moved closer, standing just outside the door now, rain pouring over him.
"I love you, Advika. I'm completely, terrifyingly, irrevocably in love with you.
I don't know how to do this. I'll probably mess it up.
I'll probably default to being possessive instead of open, controlling instead of communicative. But I love you."
The words she'd been desperate to hear for months. And now that she was hearing them, she didn't know what to do.
"You can't just say that and expect everything to be okay," she said, tears mixing with the rain on her face.
"I don't expect anything." He fell to his knees right there on the wet pavement, looking up at her.
The mafia king, on his knees, in the rain, in front of anyone who might pass by.
"I'm not expecting you to forgive me. I'm not expecting you to believe me.
I'm not expecting anything except the chance to prove it. "
"Sidharth—"
"You're not a Pradhan to me. You haven't been for a long time.
You're not the treaty bride or the illegitimate daughter or any of the labels people have put on you.
" His voice cracked. "You're Advika. The woman who bakes at 2 AM when she can't sleep.
Who stands up to my sister even when it costs her.
Who's brave enough to love a broken bastard like me.
You're my wife. And I want you to be my partner.
In everything. Business, life, all of it. "
"I asked you for one reason to stay," Advika whispered. "And you couldn't give me one."
"I know. And I've regretted it every second since you walked out that door.
" He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.
His skin was ice cold. "I'm asking now. Begging, actually.
Come home. Let me prove I mean this. Let me show you every day for the rest of our lives that you're the most important thing in my world. "
Advika looked down at him—this powerful man on his knees in the rain, looking at her like she hung the moon—and felt her carefully constructed defenses crumble.
"You stood out here all day," she said.
"I would have stood here all week. All month. However long it took."
"You're soaked. You're probably going to get sick."
"I don't care." His grip on her hand tightened. "I don't care about anything except you. Except us. Please, Advika. Please come home."
She should make him work for it more. Should make him grovel, should protect her heart, should be smart about this.
But she'd never been smart when it came to him.
"Get inside," she said finally. "Before you catch pneumonia and I have to explain to Rishabh why I let his brother die in the street."
Hope flared in his eyes. "Does that mean—"
"It means get inside before I change my mind."
He scrambled to his feet, following her into the bakery. She locked the door behind them, then just stood there, not knowing what to do next.
They were both dripping on her clean floors. He looked like a drowned rat. She probably didn't look much better.
And yet, when he reached for her, she didn't pull away.
"I love you," he said again, his hands cupping her face. "I should have said it months ago. Should have said it last night. Should have said it every day since I realized it. I love you, Advika. You're it for me. The only one."
"You hurt me," she whispered. "So many times."
"I know. And I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it." His forehead touched hers. "I'm not good at this. At being vulnerable. At being soft. But for you, I'll learn. I'll try every day to be the man you deserve."
"I don't want perfection," Advika said, her hands coming up to grip his wrists. "I just want honesty. I want you to talk to me instead of pushing me away. I want to be your partner, not your possession."
"Yes. Anything. Everything." He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, everywhere but her lips. "Just come home. Please."
Advika closed her eyes, feeling the last of her resistance crumble. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll come home." She pulled back to look at him. "But things have to change, Sidharth. Really change. No more walls. No more shutting me out. We're a team, or we're nothing."
"A team," he agreed immediately. "Partners. I promise."
"And you have to deal with Nisha. Really deal with her. What she did—letting Mihika into your office, sabotaging us—that can't happen again."
"Already done. I banned Mihika from the estate permanently. And I told Nisha she needs to apologize to you. A real apology."
Advika raised her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Really. You're my wife. My priority. She needs to accept that." He pulled her closer. "Can I kiss you now? I've been standing in the rain for fourteen hours dreaming about kissing you."
Despite everything, Advika smiled. "You're dripping on my floor."
"I don't care about your floor. I care about you." His hands slid into her hair. "Please let me kiss you."
"You're going to make me sick—"
He kissed her, cutting off her protests. And God, she'd missed this. Missed him. Missed the way he held her like she was precious, kissed her like she was oxygen.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
"We should go home," Sidharth said. "Get out of these wet clothes. Talk properly."
"I need to close up here first."
"I'll help."
They worked together in silence, Advika turning off equipment and locking up while Sidharth watched, his eyes never leaving her. Like he was afraid if he looked away, she'd disappear.
"I'm not going to vanish," she said gently.
"I know. I just... I'm still processing that you're coming home. That you're giving me another chance."
"Don't make me regret it."
"I won't." He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I swear, Advika. I won't."
They drove back to the estate in his car—he'd had someone pick it up earlier, apparently, during his vigil. The ride was quiet, but his hand never left hers.
When they pulled through the gates, Advika felt a flutter of nerves. This was home now. Really home. Not just the place she was trapped, but the place she chose to be.
With the man she loved.
Who finally loved her back.