Ishita didn't wake up intending to choose Aarav.
It wasn't a decision she made consciously, standing at some emotional crossroads. There was no dramatic realization, no sudden warmth in her chest.
It happened in fragments.
Small, almost invisible moments.
She woke to rain tapping softly against the window, the sky still dim. For a moment, she lay still, listening to the quiet of the house. No footsteps outside her door. No muffled voices reporting her movements.
Freedom still felt unfamiliar.
She got out of bed and padded downstairs, wrapped in a shawl. The kitchen lights were on.
Aarav stood at the counter, sleeves rolled, hair slightly disheveled, staring down at his phone like it had personally offended him. A half-made cup of coffee sat abandoned beside him.
He looked… human.
She paused, unsure if she should announce herself.
He noticed her anyway.
"You're awake early," he said.
"So are you," she replied.
He hummed noncommittally and put the phone down. "Board meeting."
Her stomach tightened. She remembered the whispers. The deals lost. The quiet fallout of his choices.
"You didn't have to stay up working," she said.
"I wasn't working," he replied after a beat.
That surprised her. "Then what were you doing?"
He hesitated — a rare thing for him.
"Thinking," he said finally.
She nodded, not pushing.
Instead, she reached for another mug and poured herself coffee. Her hands moved on instinct as she added sugar — three spoons — then stopped.
She glanced at him, expecting commentary.
There was none.
Something eased in her chest.
She took a sip and winced. "Too bitter."
Without a word, Aarav reached past her, opened the fridge, and handed her the milk.
No correction. No instruction.
Just accommodation.
She added milk, then looked up at him. "Thank you."
The word seemed to catch him off guard.
He inclined his head slightly. "You're welcome."
They stood there in silence, not awkward, not tense.
Just present.
---
At the office, the cracks in Aarav's empire were widening.
The boardroom was full, but the atmosphere was brittle.
"You've become unpredictable," one director said bluntly. "Your recent decisions are emotionally driven."
Aarav leaned back in his chair. "They're intentional."
"You assaulted an investor."
"He threatened my wife."
"That's not a legal defense."
"No," Aarav agreed calmly. "It's a moral one."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"You're prioritizing personal matters over the company," another voice added. "This isn't like you."
Aarav's jaw tightened.
Because they were right.
He had built his power on distance, on detachment. Caring was inefficient. Attachment was exploitable.
And yet—
He thought of Ishita standing in the doorway of his study, eyes conflicted but softer than before.
He thought of her sitting beside him instead of across.
Of her choosing to stay when she could have retreated.
"I'm recalibrating," he said. "That doesn't make me weak."
"It makes you vulnerable," the chairman countered. "And vulnerability costs power."
Aarav met his gaze. "So does fear."
The meeting ended without resolution.
As Aarav left the room, he felt it — the subtle shift in authority. The way eyes lingered longer, calculating.
Power was slipping.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure he wanted to grab it back at any cost.
---
Ishita spent the afternoon volunteering at a small library near the hospital, something she hadn't done since before the marriage. She didn't tell Aarav she was going.
She didn't ask permission.
When she returned home, the driver opened the door.
"Mr. Malhotra asked me to bring you straight back if you felt uncomfortable," he said respectfully. "Otherwise, I was told to wait."
Wait.
Not watch. Not report.
She nodded, surprised. "Thank you."
That evening, Aarav found her in the living room, sorting through old photographs she had brought from her childhood home.
He paused when he saw them.
"You kept these," he said.
She looked up. "They're important to me."
He walked closer, crouching to examine one where a younger Ishita sat beside her father, both smiling awkwardly at the camera.
"You look happy," he observed.
"I was," she said. "Life was smaller then. But lighter."
He studied the photo for a long moment.
"I don't know how to be light," he admitted quietly.
She didn't tease him for it.
Instead, she said, "You don't have to be. Just… don't be heavy with me."
His throat tightened.
"I'm trying," he said.
"I know," she replied.
And that was another choice.
Belief.
---
The real test came that night.
A call arrived just after dinner. Aarav listened silently, his expression hardening with every second.
"What happened?" Ishita asked.
He exhaled slowly. "The board is moving to restrict my authority. Temporary measures."
Her chest tightened. "Because of me?"
"Because of my refusal to control you," he corrected.
She stood. "Then fix it."
He looked at her sharply. "What?"
"Take me to the gala," she said. "The one you canceled."
His brows knit together. "I won't force you."
"You're not," she said. "I'm choosing it."
That word again.
Choice.
"You don't owe me this," he said.
"I know," she replied. "That's why it matters."
He searched her face, looking for hesitation.
There was fear.
But there was resolve too.
"You'll be watched," he warned. "Judged."
She nodded. "So will you."
The gala was a calculated risk.
Cameras flashed the moment they arrived, whispers following them like shadows. Ishita's hand slid into Aarav's arm — not because he guided it there, but because she chose to anchor herself.
Aarav felt it instantly.
The difference between possession and partnership was subtle.
And devastating.
Throughout the night, she stayed beside him. She spoke when spoken to. She smiled when she meant it.
And when an investor approached with thinly veiled condescension, Ishita answered calmly, confidently.
Aarav didn't interrupt.
Didn't correct.
Didn't shield.
He let her stand on her own.
And the room noticed.
By the end of the night, the narrative had shifted.
Not entirely.
But enough.
---
Later, back home, the tension finally loosened.
"You didn't have to stay so close," Aarav said quietly as they removed their coats.
"I wanted to," she replied.
That simple truth echoed loudly.
He turned to her. "If staying with me costs you your freedom—"
"Then I'll leave," she said gently. "But not tonight. Not yet."
His breath hitched.
"You're choosing me," he said, more question than statement.
She nodded slowly. "In small ways. Because that's all I can manage right now."
He accepted that.
Not greedily.
Not desperately.
Just… gratefully.
That night, when they went to bed, there was still space between them.
But when Ishita reached out in her sleep, her fingers brushing his hand, Aarav didn't freeze.
He didn't claim.
He simply held on.
Lightly.
Carefully.
Knowing that trust, once earned, was more powerful than any empire he had ever built.