Chapter 35 The Most Unfair Rival
The Most Unfair Rival
DHRUV
I haven’t really seen Sitara in two days.
Yes, technically, we sleep in the same room. I wake up beside her. I fall asleep knowing she’s there. I hear her soft breathing at night, feel the faint warmth she leaves behind when she slips out of bed before me.
But that’s not what I mean.
I haven’t had her.
Her attention. Her rambling. Her half-finished thoughts that spill into full monologues the moment she’s comfortable. The way she sits beside me in the evenings, legs folded under her, doodling while telling me about something that happened in her head more than in real life.
That Sitara has been… kidnapped. By her best friend.
When she asked me a week ago—very cautiously, like she expected me to refuse—if her friend could come stay for a few days, I said yes without a second thought. Of course I did. Sitara doesn’t ask for things easily. And she looked so hopeful that saying no wasn’t even an option.
Tia arrived like a cyclone—small, sharp-eyed, loud in the way people who are comfortable being themselves are loud. Within an hour, she’d claimed a corner of the palace like she’d been born here. Within two, she’d claimed Sitara.
And within twenty-four hours, I realized I had a rival.
I do not like rivals.
Especially not when it comes to my wife.
But I didn’t anticipate how quickly I’d be reduced to… this.
A grown man. A king. Sitting alone in his room at night, very much aware that his wife is down the corridor laughing at something that is definitely not him.
It’s ridiculous. I know that.
And yet, here I am.
The clock on the bedside table ticks past midnight when I hear footsteps outside. Light ones. Familiar. Paired with hushed laughter that immediately tightens something unpleasant in my chest.
I don’t move.
I’m sitting against the headboard, glasses on, a file open in my lap that I’ve read exactly zero words of in the last half hour. The lamp is on—low, warm—casting the room in soft shadows. I look up just as the door creaks open.
Sitara slips in, still smiling to herself, her pallu a bit loose around her shoulders, hair slightly messy like she’s forgotten to fix it after a long day. She freezes the second she notices me awake.
“Oh,” she says softly. “You’re still up.”
I lift an eyebrow. “It’s not that late.”
She squints at the clock. “It’s… past twelve.”
“Yes,” I reply calmly. “Which is not that late.”
She laughs under her breath, the sound hitting me square in the chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
She starts to walk past me toward the closet, completely casual, like she hasn’t just abandoned her husband for two days straight.
I close the file.
“Sitara.”
She pauses.
Turns around slowly.
“Yes, Dhruv?”
That tone. Innocent. Sweet. Dangerous.
I gesture vaguely toward her. “Do you plan on acknowledging your husband today, or should I book an appointment?”
Her lips twitch.
“Appointment for what?”
“Attention,” I say flatly.
She blinks once, then laughs. Not a polite laugh. Not a quiet one. A full, startled, hands-to-mouth laugh that echoes slightly in the room. She bends forward a little like she’s trying to catch her breath, eyes bright, cheeks flushing.
“Oh my God,” she says between giggles. “Are you jealous?”
I feel heat rush up my neck instantly. “No.”
She straightens, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re absolutely jealous.”
“I am not,” I repeat, firmer now.
She walks closer, slow and deliberate, like she’s testing something. “You’re jealous of Tia.”
“I am not jealous of your friend,” I say, offended on multiple levels.
She stops right in front of me, hands clasped behind her back, leaning slightly forward. “You’re pouting.”
“I do not pout.”
She gasps softly. “You are jealous.”
I open my mouth to deny it again, but nothing comes out fast enough, and that’s when she knows she’s won.
Her smile turns mischievous. “You missed me.”
My jaw tightens.
“Maybe,” I admit.
Her expression softens just a fraction, the teasing melting into something warmer. “I didn’t forget you.”
“You disappeared,” I say, quieter now. “I barely see you all day.”
She tilts her head. “You see me at night.”
“That doesn’t count,” I mutter.
Her eyebrows lift. “Why not?”
Because I want more than just proximity, I think. Because I want you choosing me even when you don’t have to.
Instead, I say, “You come in late. You leave early.”
She bites her lip, clearly trying not to smile again. “Are you complaining, Raja-sa?”
I exhale sharply. “Don’t call me that when you’re teasing me.”
“So you are jealous.”
I give up.
“I don’t like having rivals,” I say simply.
Her eyes widen slightly. “Rivals?”
“Yes,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “You’ve been laughing more with her than with me.”
She stares at me for a second, then her shoulders shake again. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m serious,” I insist.
She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her—faint soap, something sweet underneath. “You know she’s my best friend, right?”
“I know. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s monopolizing you.”
Her smile turns soft again, less teasing now. “You’re adorable when you’re insecure.”
“I am not insecure.”
“You absolutely are.”
“You were gone the whole evening.”
“She’s leaving tomorrow,” Sitara says gently. “I wanted to spend time with her.”
I nod. “I know.” But it seemed like you forgot me. Worse, like you didn’t need me.
She studies my face for a moment, then reaches out and taps my chest lightly. “You didn’t want to say anything.”
I sigh. “I didn’t want to sound ridiculous.”
She smiles. “Too late.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little,” she admits. “It’s cute seeing you all flustered.”
I feel my ears heat up again. “I am not flustered.”
She laughs softly and finally sits beside me on the bed, close enough that her knee brushes mine. The contact sends a quiet jolt through me.
“I missed you, too,” she says, more quietly now.
That helps.
A lot.
I glance at her. “Then don’t disappear.”
She nudges my arm. “I won’t. Promise.”
I watch her for a moment, the way her eyes soften when she looks at me like that, the way her voice loses its edge.
“Good,” I say. “Because I don’t share well.”
She grins. “Noted.”
She stands up then, stretching slightly. “Now, if my very jealous husband is done sulking, I’m going to change.”
I scoff. “I wasn’t sulking.”
She pauses at the cupboard door and looks back at me, eyes sparkling. “You absolutely were.”
And before I can argue, she slips into the closet, laughter trailing behind her.
I sit there for a second longer, shaking my head, lips twitching despite myself.
Me,
Jealous.
Ridiculous.
And yet, as I listen to her moving around the room again, humming softly to herself, I realize something else too.
I don’t actually mind losing.
Not when it means she comes back to me smiling.