Samaira rushes down the stairs, her bag slung hastily over her shoulder, her damp hair clinging to the back of her shirt. She’s muttering under her breath about being late when Advait’s voice cuts through her thoughts.

“Samaira,” he calls out casually, leaning against the dining table with a glass of orange juice in his hand, “you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I don’t have time,” she replies curtly, her pace quickening as she makes her way toward the door. “I’m already late.”

“For the hospital?” he asks, his tone carrying that unnerving calm she had come to loathe.

She nods sharply, not bothering to turn around or spare him a glance.

“Well,” he continues, “no need to rush.”

His words stop her dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turns to face him, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice cautious, already suspecting something she won’t like.

“I’ve already taken leave for you,” Advait announces, his smirk growing as he sets the glass down and crosses his arms.

Samaira blinks at him, stunned. “You… what?”

“You’ve been overworking yourself,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Your body is clearly screaming for rest. So, I handled it. You’re officially on leave for a few days.”

Her mouth falls open slightly, her mind racing with questions. “How did you—” she pauses, her voice rising, “—how did you manage to get my leave approved? I’ve only just joined. It’s impossible to get leave so early.”

Advait’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Let’s just say it was an easy task.”

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms as her thoughts spiral. Easy task? Oh, I’m sure it was. He or his goons must have marched into the hospital, guns blazing, and threatened everyone into submission.

“Stop overthinking,” Advait interrupts, reading her expression like a book. “Now, sit down and have your breakfast.”

She exhales sharply, glaring at him but knowing there’s no winning against his persistence. With a defeated sigh, she drops her bag onto the couch and reluctantly makes her way to the dining table.

The tension is palpable as she takes her seat, every movement stiff with irritation. Advait watches her with an amused expression as she picks up her fork and begins poking at her food.

After a few moments of silence, she can’t hold back anymore. “So, what am I supposed to do now?” she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Stay caged in this house, twiddling my thumbs until you decide otherwise?”

Advait doesn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he leans back in his chair, his gaze steady and annoyingly calm. “It’s your holiday. Do whatever you like. Watch a movie. Visit that space museum you used to love so much. Relax for once in your life.”

Samaira’s fork clatters against her plate as she sets it down, staring at him incredulously. “Are you seriously suggesting that I step out of this cage?”

He tilts his head slightly, his tone almost playful. “You’re a free soul, Samaira. You can do whatever you want.”

Her eyes widen slightly at his words, hope flickering for a brief second—until he continues.

“Except,” he adds, his tone sharpening, “devising and trying to implement plans to escape me. Because, let’s be honest—” he leans forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers, “—that’s not possible. At least, not in this life.”

The finality in his words sends a chill down her spine. For a moment, the room feels heavier, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Samaira tightens her grip on the edge of the table, willing herself to maintain composure. She forces a sarcastic smile, masking the unease bubbling within her. “Oh, how generous of you,” she says sweetly. “I’ll be sure to remember this… freedom you’ve so graciously bestowed upon me.”

Advait doesn’t respond immediately. His smirk softens, his expression unreadable as he watches her get up from the table and grab her bag.

She doesn’t look back as she walks toward the stairs, but her mind is racing. Freedom? This isn’t freedom. This is just another way for him to assert control. And yet… why does he make it sound so convincing?

Later That Morning

Samaira sits on her bed, staring at the untouched book in her lap. The sunlight streaming through the window fails to lift her spirits as her conversation with Advait replays in her mind.

Freedom. She scoffs at the thought, tossing the book aside.

Restless, she decides to go for a walk in the garden, hoping the fresh air will clear her mind. As she steps outside, the scent of blooming jasmine fills the air, momentarily calming her nerves.

She wanders through the garden, her thoughts drifting back to her childhood days when life was simpler, freer. Her lips curve into a faint smile at the memory of running through her grandparents’ garden, her laughter echoing through the air.

But the smile fades as reality crashes back in. This isn’t freedom, she reminds herself bitterly. This is just another gilded cage.

Meanwhile

Advait sits in his study, his laptop open in front of him as he reviews a report. His phone buzzes with a notification, but his focus remains unwavering.

“Sir,” his assistant enters the room hesitantly, “we’ve received confirmation about the shipment.”

Advait nods, his expression hardening slightly. “Good. Make sure everything is in place. No room for errors this time.”

“Yes, sir,” the assistant replies before exiting the room.

Advait leans back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to Samaira. Her sarcasm from earlier still lingers in his mind, and he finds himself smirking despite himself. She never fails to surprise me, he thinks, shaking his head.

Deciding to take a break, he heads to the garden, his footsteps silent against the stone path.

He finds her sitting on a bench, her gaze distant as she absentmindedly twirls a blade of grass between her fingers.

“You’re deep in thought,” he remarks, breaking the silence.

Samaira looks up, startled, but quickly masks her surprise. “What do you want now?” she asks, her tone defensive.

Advait shrugs, leaning against a nearby tree. “Just checking on you. You seemed… tense earlier.”

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “I’m fine,” she replies curtly.

“Really?” he presses, his gaze piercing. “Because you don’t seem fine.”

Samaira exhales sharply, looking away. “Why do you care?” she mutters under her breath.

Advait doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves to sit beside her, his presence both comforting and unsettling.

“Because,” he says finally, his voice softer than she expected, “whether you believe it or not, I do care.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Advait’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “Maybe. But it’s the only way I know.”

Samaira doesn’t reply, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Later That Evening

Samaira finds herself back in the dining room, reluctantly sitting across from Advait as dinner is served. The atmosphere is lighter now, though the underlying tension remains.

As they eat, Advait asks, “Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?”

Samaira raises an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” he replies smoothly, “it’s my duty to ensure my wife isn’t bored during her ‘holidays.’”

She rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at her lips despite herself. “I’ll manage.”

Advait smirks, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sure you will.”

As the evening winds down, Samaira retires to her room, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Despite her resistance, she can’t deny that Advait’s words—his actions—have left her more conflicted than ever.