Dhruv's POV

The morning sun in the garden was surprisingly tolerable. Maybe it was the caffeine kicking in, or maybe it was the lingering warmth of a certain burned-toast breakfast, but for the first time in months, I didn't feel the urge to check my phone every thirty seconds.

I was standing by the rose bushes—my mother’s favorites, ironically—hands in my pockets, just breathing.

Then, I heard the crunch of gravel.

I turned around.

The breath hitched in my throat.

Katha was walking toward me. She had changed out of her pajamas into a simple white kurti with silver embroidery. The sunlight hit the fabric, making her glow against the green of the garden. Her hair was loose, dancing slightly in the breeze.

She looked... clean. Innocent. Like she didn't belong in this house of secrets, and yet, she was the only thing making it look bright.

She stopped in front of me, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Good morning, husband," she chirped, emphasizing the title with a cheeky grin.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. I fought it down. "Good morning."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Black Card. The metal was cool against my fingers. I held it out to her.

"Here," I said casually.

Katha blinked, looking at the card like it was an alien object. "What is this?"

"It's a credit card, Katha," I said dryly. "I'm sure you've seen one."

"I know what it is," she laughed. "I mean, why are you giving it to me? Did I win a lottery?"

"Consider it a... team-building exercise," I muttered, looking away at a particularly interesting rose. "I was... rough with you yesterday. And in this contract, we are partners, right? So, go shopping. Buy clothes. Buy jewelry. Buy whatever women buy to feel better."

I looked back at her. "It has no limit. Spend as much as you want. It's not too much money for me."

I expected her eyes to light up. I expected her to snatch it. It was unlimited power in a plastic strip.

Katha looked at the card. Then she looked at me. She smiled—a soft, knowing smile that made my stomach flip.

"You want to apologize with plastic?" she teased, stepping closer.

"It's Titanium," I corrected her.

She laughed, pushing my hand gently away. "Keep your Titanium, Dhruv. I don't want it."

I frowned. "Everyone wants it. Why are you being difficult? Just take it."

"I have a different wish," she said softly, her eyes turning wistful.

"Tell me," I said immediately, slipping the card back into my pocket. "There is nothing I can't do. There is nothing I can't buy. Just name it."

Katha looked past me, toward the high gates of the manor.

"I want to travel," she whispered.

I stared at her. "Travel?"

"My whole life," she continued, her voice gaining a sad rhythm, "after my mother's accident... I was stuck. My uncle and aunt kept me inside the house like a servant. The only time I saw the sky was on the way to school. They even pulled me out of college in the first year."

She looked back at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears and a desperate hope.

"I have never seen the world, Dhruv. I have never felt the wind on my face without worrying about getting home on time. I don't want dresses. I want... distance."

My chest tightened. I knew about her past, but hearing it like that... it sounded too much like my own childhood. Trapped. Waiting.

But the logical part of my brain slammed the brakes.

"No," I said firmly. "You can't."

Katha’s face fell. "Why?"

"I already told you," I said, crossing my arms. "Security risks. Media scrutiny. You are Mrs. Rathore now. You can't just backpack across Europe. It’s dangerous."

She narrowed her eyes, stepping into my personal space. She tilted her head, a challenge forming on her lips.

"But you just said there is nothing Mr. Dhruv Rathore can't do?" she smirked. "Right... Mr. Husband?"

Ahh, fuck.

She was using my own ego against me. And she looked devastatingly cute doing it.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. "You are manipulative. Has anyone told you that?"

"I learned from the best," she beamed.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Where do you want to go? But only for a few days. And I will send a full security team. They will watch you 24/7. You won't even be able to sneeze without a bodyguard handing you a tissue."

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "I don't want bodyguards. I want you."

I blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she poked my chest. "We don't need security. We need a vacation. What will people think if I go alone? 'Oh, the billionaire sent his wife away because he got bored?'"

She widened her eyes dramatically. "Do you want that headline, Sir?"

I couldn't help it. I chuckled.

"You are a menace," I muttered. "Okay. Fine. I will come. For three days. Only three."

Katha squealed—an actual, high-pitched squeal of delight—and clapped her hands. "Yes! Okay! Pack your bags!"

"Where are we going?" I asked, amused by her energy. "Paris? Maldives? London?"

Katha grinned, her face glowing with excitement.

"Goa," she announced happily. "I have always wanted to go to Goa. The beaches, the sun... it’s my dream."

The smile froze on my face.

The garden vanished. The sunlight turned cold.

Goa.

The yellow house. The fish curry. The waving hand in the rearview mirror. The smell of the sea mixed with the smell of abandonment.

My heart stopped beating for a second, then kick-started into a painful, frantic rhythm.

"No," I said. My voice wasn't amused anymore. It was dead.

Katha’s smile faltered. "What?"

"No," I repeated, stepping back from her. "Not Goa."

"But why?" she asked, confused. "It's beautiful! And it's close! We can just drive—"

"I said no!" I snapped, the volume making her jump.

The birds in the trees went silent. The playful atmosphere evaporated instantly.

I turned away from her, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I couldn't go back there. I couldn't walk on those beaches knowing my mother was somewhere in that sand, lost to me forever. It was a graveyard of my childhood.

"Choose somewhere else," I said, my voice shaking with suppressed emotion. "Paris. Swiss Alps. Anywhere else."

"But I want the beach," Katha whispered, stepping closer, reaching for my arm. "Dhruv, what's wrong? Why are you—"

I jerked my arm away before she could touch me.

"There are many beaches in Mumbai!" I shouted, spinning on her. "Go to Juhu! Go to Marine Drive! But we are never going to Goa!"

I saw the hurt in her eyes, the confusion. But I couldn't explain. I couldn't tell her that going to Goa would break me all over again.

"Never," I whispered, the word tasting like ash. "Don't ask me again."

I turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the beautiful garden.

Katha's Pov

I stood rooted to the spot, watching his broad back disappear into the shadows of the manor. The wind rustled the white fabric of my kurti, but the chill I felt wasn't from the breeze.

It was from the raw, bleeding agony in his voice when he screamed Never.

He is stubborn, I thought, letting out a shaky breath. He will never take me to Goa.

But I knew.

I knew exactly why the mere mention of that place turned the man into a terrified child. Last night, when I held him in the bar, he hadn't just cried. He had mumbled. Amidst the sobs about luxury and loneliness, I had heard fragments: “The yellow house... the beach... why did you leave me there, Maa?”

My heart squeezed painfully.

He never went back, I realized, staring at the empty doorway. Since the day his father dragged him away at seven years old, he has never stepped foot in Goa. He left his heart there, and he has been too scared to go back and retrieve it.

He thought avoiding it would keep him safe. But it was poisoning him. He needed to go back. He needed to stand on that sand and realize that he wasn't that abandoned little boy anymore.

But how? I bit my lip, pacing in a small circle on the grass. He is Dhruv Rathore. He commands the tides. I can't drag him there. I can't force him.

I needed leverage. I needed someone whose word was absolute law in this house. Someone he wouldn't dare disobey.

A face flashed in my mind. Stern. Cold. Unforgiving.

Rohini Mom.

I froze mid-step.

If she tells him... he will go.

He respected her hierarchy. If the matriarch of the Rathore family commanded him to go to Goa, he wouldn't argue. He couldn't argue.

But... fuck, Katha, I mentally slapped myself. She hates him. She doesn't even talk to him properly. Why in the world would she tell him to go on a vacation with me? She would probably prefer if we both disappeared.

I tapped my chin frantically. Think. Think.

She wouldn't do it for him. And she definitely wouldn't do it for me.

But she would do it for herself.

A crazy, reckless, absolutely dangerous idea sparked in my brain. It was risky. It involved manipulating the woman who terrified me the most. And if it backfired, Dhruv would be furious.

But looking at the empty path where my broken husband had just walked away, I knew I had no choice.

"Sorry, Dhruv," I whispered to the wind, my eyes narrowing with determination. "But I have to do this. For you."

I took a deep breath, smoothing down my kurti.

I turned around and walked toward the house. I wasn't going to my room. I was going to the Lioness's den.