Chapter 9: The Wall of Ice
The sun rose on a different kind of house. The air was no longer charged with the electric tension of Advik's gaze; instead, it was frozen.
I woke up feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The promise of the divorce—the promise of Aman—was a lifeline. I dressed in a simple white kurti, my heart humming a tune I thought I'd forgotten. I wanted to thank Advik properly. I wanted to tell him that maybe, just maybe, we could be friends for this one year.
I found him in the breakfast nook, bathed in the morning light. He was dressed in a sharp, charcoal-grey suit, his hair slicked back perfectly. He was reading a file, a cup of black coffee steaming beside him.
"Advik! Good morning," I said, a genuine smile on my lips.
He didn't look up. He didn't even flinch at the sound of my voice. "The car will be ready in ten minutes. You have a fitting for the charity gala at noon."
His voice was like a mechanical recording. No gravel, no heat, no "Jaan."
"Oh... okay," I sat down across from him, my smile faltering. "I wanted to talk to you about last night. About what you said. It means the world to me that you're doing this, Advik. Truly."
He finally looked up, but the eyes that met mine weren't the ones that had burned with jealousy in the garden. They were dead. Empty. Like two shards of cold glass.
"It was a business transaction, Ananya," he said, his tone flat. "One year of your public presence in exchange for your brother and your freedom. There is no need for sentimentality."
I flinched. "A business transaction? But last night you seemed..."
"Last night I was tired," he interrupted, snapping his file shut. He stood up, towering over me, but he didn't lean in. He actually stepped back, creating a physical gap between us that felt miles wide. "From now on, we will interact only when necessary for appearances. You will stay in the East Wing. I will stay in the West. If you need anything, ask the staff."
"Advik, wait," I stood up, reaching for his arm. "What happened? Did I say something wrong?"
As my fingers brushed his sleeve, he recoiled as if I had burned him. A flash of something—was it agony?—crossed his face for a split second before the mask of ice slammed back down.
"Do not touch me," he hissed, the first sign of emotion in his voice, though it was sharp enough to draw blood. "You have what you wanted. You have your exit strategy. Now stay on your side of the line."
He turned and stroed out of the room, his footsteps echoing like gunshots on the marble.
I stood there, completely bewildered. Yesterday he was shielding me with his body, and last night he was giving me my freedom. Why was he acting like I was a stranger he couldn't stand to look at?
I didn't hear the water running in the kitchen. I didn't see the way his hand shook as he reached for the door handle. I only saw the wall he had built overnight—a wall higher and thicker than any fortress.
I spent the afternoon in a daze. By evening, the silence of the mansion was suffocating. I couldn't take it anymore. I headed toward his study, determined to break through the ice. I didn't knock; I just pushed the door open.
"Advik, we need to talk about—"
I stopped. The room was dark, lit only by the glowing embers of a cigar. Advik was sitting in his leather chair, a bottle of expensive scotch half-empty on the desk. He didn't look like a King. He looked like a man sitting in the ruins of his own heart.
"Get out, Ananya," he whispered into the darkness.
"No," I said, stepping further into the room. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being so cold?"
He let out a short, hollow laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "Because looking at you reminds me of the price I'm paying, Princess. Now leave, before I decide that a year is far too long to wait to let you go."