Chapter 10: The Midnight Ghost
The clock on the mantle ticked toward midnight. Every strike felt like a hammer hitting a nail. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the strap of my dress. For the first time, I wasn't wearing Advik's emeralds or his heavy silks. I was wearing a simple floral dress—the kind Aman used to love.
But instead of feeling free, I felt... exposed.
I walked toward Advik's study. The door was ajar. He was sitting at his desk, the blue light of his laptop illuminating the sharp, hollow planes of his face. He looked like he hadn't moved in hours.
"Advik?" I whispered.
He didn't look up. "Yes."
"Aman is picking me up. For... for a date. Since we're divorcing in a year, I thought it wouldn't matter." My heart was hammering. I waited for the explosion. I waited for him to stand up, slam the laptop shut, and tell me I belonged to him. I waited for the fire.
Advik slowly shifted his gaze to me. His eyes were like a winter morning—gray, cold, and utterly lifeless.
"Fine," he said. One word. No emotion. No edge.
"Fine?" I repeated, stepping into the room. "It's midnight, Advik. I'm going out with the man I love. You aren't going to say anything? You aren't going to tell me it's dangerous?"
"I've cleared the route," he said, turning back to his screen. "Two of my best men will be following at a discrete distance. They have orders not to interfere unless someone pulls a weapon. Have a good time, Ananya."
I stood frozen. Where was the man who had bitten out threats at the gala? Where was the man who had claimed I was his "property"? This version of Advik was more terrifying than the monster—this was a stranger who simply didn't care.
"Right," I said, my voice small. "Goodnight."
He didn't answer.
The Date
Aman was waiting at the end of the driveway in his modest silver car. When I got in, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. It was sweet. It was safe. It was everything I had been praying for.
"You look beautiful," Aman whispered, his eyes shining. "I can't believe he actually let you come."
We went to an all-night diner on the outskirts of the city. Aman talked about our future—about a small house in the suburbs, about his work, about the travel articles he wanted to write. He was funny and kind, holding my hand across the table.
But my mind was three miles away, in a dark study with a man who looked like he was fading into the shadows.
Why didn't he get jealous? The thought kept looping in my head like a broken record. Advik was a man who took what he wanted. He was a man of passion and violence. To see him so... hollow... it felt wrong. It felt like I had broken something vital inside him, and the guilt was starting to drown out Aman's voice.
"Ananya? Are you listening?" Aman asked, his brow furrowing.
"Sorry, yes," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
"We have plenty of time," Aman said, squeezing my hand. "We have the rest of our lives. I'm just glad the Architect finally realized he couldn't own you."
I looked at our joined hands. For years, this was all I wanted. But now, all I could think about was the way Advik had looked at his reflection in the morning—shattered. All I could think about was the coldness in his "Have a good time."
He wasn't stopping me because he didn't care. He was stopping himself from stopping me.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. Advik wasn't being cold because he was heartless; he was being cold because he was dying of a broken heart and didn't want me to see the blood.
"Aman," I said softly, "I think I need to go home."
"Home?" Aman looked confused. "But we just got here. You mean your father's house?"
I hesitated. The word 'home' had slipped out before I could catch it. And for some terrifying reason, my mind hadn't pictured my father's house. It had pictured the glass fortress on the cliff.
"The mansion," I corrected, my voice trembling. "I... I left something important there."