The wind howled outside the tall arched windows of the mansion, dragging dust along the ornate veranda like a scolded pet. Inside, the silence was louder than the storm. A single brass lamp cast flickering shadows across the vintage wallpaper, illuminating the hollow distance between Vijaishna and Vedant.

She stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, her silk robe clinging to her like armor. Her eyes, usually warm and expressive, were steely tonight. Vedant leaned against the grand piano, his jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides, as if holding in an avalanche.

“You promised me,” Vijaishna said quietly, the kind of quiet that cut more than screams. “You said once we were married, nothing would come between us.”

“I meant it,” Vedant replied, his voice low and controlled. “But things are… complicated.”

“Complicated?” she snapped, taking a step forward. “We’ve been married for three months, Vedant. Three! And not once have you had the courage to tell your family. You let me live like some ghost-wife while you play obedient son at home!”

Vedant looked away, the candlelight tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbone. “You know how they are. They’d never accept this. They already think you’re too—”

“Too what?” Vijaishna interrupted. “Too rich? Too independent? Too unwilling to smile and serve tea like a good little housewife?”

Vedant looked pained. “You’re twisting my words.”

“No. I’m untwisting yours.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t stop. “Do you think I care about approval? I’ve lived my entire life behind locked gates and polite lies. You were the first real thing in my life, Vedant.”

A long silence followed, filled only by the distant groan of thunder. Vedant walked slowly to the window and stared out at the darkened garden below. The trees swayed violently, almost as if echoing the turmoil inside.

“I love you,” he said finally. “God, Vijaishna, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. But love doesn’t erase fear.”

She looked at him, the defiance slowly draining from her eyes. “Then maybe it’s not love,” she whispered. “Because love should make you brave.”

He turned, eyes searching hers. “And what do you want me to do? March in and say, ‘Hey everyone, I married the woman of my dreams, and by the way, she’s heir to a mansion that has more chandeliers than our entire house has light bulbs’?”

Vijaishna smiled bitterly. “Yes. That would be a start.”

He laughed—humorless, tired. “It’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had to answer to anyone.”

Her voice trembled now. “I answer to my loneliness every day, Vedant.”

That did it. Something in him cracked. He walked over, took her hands, then let them go again. “Maybe we need time apart,” he muttered.

“Maybe we do,” she whispered, backing away from him.

Without another word, Vedant turned and walked to the front door. His footsteps echoed on the checkered marble floor. He opened the door, letting in a burst of cold wind, then stepped out into the storm.

Vijaishna stood still for a long time after he left. The fireplace crackled behind her. Somewhere in the mansion, a clock ticked stubbornly forward. But time, for her, had stopped.

She walked to the door and gently closed it.

The fight had left the air frozen. And the mansion, for the first time in years, felt like a stranger’s home.