Bruno didn't move. Didn't even acknowledge the command.
Nimisha's breath caught. In all the months they'd been meeting, she'd never seen Bruno disobey a direct order from Samarth.
Samarth's eyes widened slightly in shock, then narrowed in anger. "Bruno. Now."
The dog's ears twitched, but he remained where he was, his head still on Nimisha's thigh.
"Boo," she said softly, "you should go to him."
Bruno turned his massive head to look at her, and in his eyes, she saw... apology? Understanding?
I'm sorry, but you need me more.
"Go," she urged. "It's okay."
With obvious reluctance, Bruno stood and moved to Samarth's side.
But he looked back at Nimisha once, his expression clear.
This isn't over.
Samarth stared at his dog like he'd never seen him before. Then his gaze lifted to Nimisha, something possessive and dangerous burning in those dark eyes.
"We need to talk," he said.
"We already talked this morning."
"That wasn't talking. That was you throwing accusations and running away."
She closed her sketchbook. "I didn't run away. I walked away. There's a difference."
"Nimisha—"
"What do you want from me, Samarth?" She stood, facing him fully. "You want me to follow the rules? I do. You want me to play the dutiful wife in public? I do. You want me available when you need release? I am. What more could you possibly want?"
"I want you to stop making this harder than it needs to be."
"Harder?" She laughed, the sound brittle. "You think I'm making this hard? You have no idea what hard is. Hard is loving someone who can't love you back. Hard is living in a house where everyone wishes you were someone else. Hard is giving everything and getting nothing in return."
The room went very still.
"You said you love someone," Samarth said slowly, his voice dangerous. "Who?"
She realized her mistake too late. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. Who is it? Is this why you disappeared last night?"
"No one! There's no one!" She was angry now, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "There's only you. It's always been only you. And that's the problem, isn't it? Because you can't love me back. You won't even try."
His expression had gone completely blank. "Nimisha—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't say anything. I don't want your pity or your guilt or whatever emotion you're about to pretend to feel." She grabbed her laptop and sketchbook. "I have work to do. I'm sure you do too."
She moved to leave, but his hand shot out, grasping her wrist.
"Let me go," she said quietly.
"You said you love me."
