Her chest tightened painfully.
“You cold bastard,” she said, her voice breaking. “I hate you.”
“But you will stay,” he said.
That quiet, calm certainty snapped something inside her.
“Fine,” she said, her voice shaking. “I'll stay. But I won't let you destroy me.”
She turned and walked to the door.
At the doorway, she stopped.
“This entire marriage is your revenge for five years ago. Congratulations, Maharaja. You've won.”
The doors shut behind her.
The echo rolled down the corridor and faded.
He did not follow her or call her name.
???
Yamini walked fast.
The marble corridor stretched long and quiet under the chandelier light. The staff smiled when they saw her. When they saw her expression, the smiles faded.
She didn't stop.
Her pulse was still loud in her ears.
He hadn't denied it. Hadn't defended himself. Hadn't even raised his voice. That calmness had cut deeper than anything else could have.
She pushed open her bedroom door harder than she meant to. It swung back and hit the wall.
The room was warm and softly lit. The mountains were pale beyond the tall windows.
She had started to think of this room as hers.
Her throat tightened.
Her eyes went to the connecting door.
You signed it.
His voice. Steady and controlled.
Financial penalties. Public consequences. Reputational damage.
Her hands were trembling—not from fear but from humiliation.
She wasn't staying because she wanted to. She was staying because she had trapped herself.
She had walked into his world thinking she was making her own choices, but she had handed him every advantage without reading a single page.
She looked at the connecting door.
The door he locked when he wanted distance. The door she had unlocked when she wanted something she hadn't beenwilling to name. The door he crossed at midnight without asking.
