Dhruv's POV

"Your suite is ready, Mr. Rathore. VIP check-in is complete."

The hotel manager was bowing so low I thought his nose might touch the marble floor. The lobby was freezing cold, smelling of lemongrass and money. It was exactly the kind of sterile, luxurious fortress I needed to survive this week.

"Thank you," I muttered, handing my car keys to the valet.

I looked around. "Where is my wife?"

"Mrs. Rathore said she forgot her bag in the car," the manager smiled politely. "She said she will join you in two minutes."

"Fine."

I took the key card and went up to the Presidential Suite.

I walked in. It was massive. Ocean view, private plunge pool, a bed large enough to sleep a football team. I tossed my blazer on the couch and loosened my tie.

I checked my watch. 5:20 PM.

I poured myself a glass of water and walked to the balcony. The ocean roared below. I gripped the railing.

We are here. Just get through the week, Dhruv. Just survive the memories.

I waited.

5:30 PM.

No Katha.

5:45 PM.

Still no Katha.

I started pacing. Why did it take thirty minutes to get a bag? Did she get lost in the lobby? Did she go to the spa?

6:15 PM.

"For fuck's sake," I growled.

The worry spiked through my chest, instantly replaced by irritation. I grabbed my phone and dialed her number.

Ring... Ring...

"Hello, husband."

Her voice was calm. Breezy. Like she wasn't currently testing the patience of a man hanging by a thread.

"Where the fuck are you, Katha?" I barked into the phone. "It's been an hour. The manager said 'two minutes'. Are you building the bag from scratch?"

I heard the sound of wind in the background. She wasn't inside.

"I'm not coming, Dhruv," she said cheerfully.

I froze. "What?"

"To the hotel," she clarified. "I don't like it. It's too... cold. Too impersonal."

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We are in the most luxurious hotel in Goa. It has five stars, Katha. It has a private beach. Where are you? Stop playing games and come here right now."

"I found a better place," she said softly.

"There is no better place!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty suite. "I booked the best. Now stop acting like a child. Send me your location, I will send the driver."

"No driver," she refused instantly. "If you want to take me... come here yourself. Come and take me with you. Because I am not coming on my own."

My grip on the phone tightened until the screen creaked.

"What nonsense is this, Katha?" I hissed. "I am tired. I drove for ten hours. I am not in the mood for a treasure hunt. You are my wife, and you will stay where I tell you to stay."

"I am your wife," she agreed. "That's why I am waiting for you."

"Katha—"

"You have to find this place yourself, Dhruv."

I paused. The anger was bubbling hot in my veins, but her words sent a strange chill down my spine.

"Find it myself?" I scoffed. "Do you think I have a GPS tracker on you? How am I supposed to know where you are in a city I haven't visited in twenty years?"

There was a silence on the other end. Only the sound of rustling leaves and distant waves.

"Katha, tell me where you are," I warned, my voice dropping an octave.

"I know you know where I am," she whispered.

The world stopped.

My heart slammed against my ribs. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

No.

She couldn't be. She didn't know. How would she know?

"Dhruv..." she said, her voice gentle but unyielding. "Come home."

"Now it's too much, Katha," I said, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and sudden, paralyzing fear. "I am behaving nicely with you. I bought you clothes. I drove you here. That doesn't mean you will do whatever you have in mind. That doesn't mean you can drag me into—"

"Is that so?" she cut me off. "Then don't come. Stay in your five-star tower."

"Katha, I am warning you—"

"But I am not going anywhere else from here," she said firmly. "I will wait all night if I have to. Goodbye, Dhruv."

Click.

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone.

"Katha!" I yelled at the blank screen.

I threw the phone onto the couch. It bounced harmlessly onto the cushions.

I stood there, breathing heavily, my chest heaving.

She is manipulating me. She is forcing my hand.

I should leave her there. I should order room service, drink a bottle of scotch, and let her realize that she can't control me.

But the silence in the room was deafening. And the words echoed in my head.

“I know you know where I am.”

My mind flashed with an image I had buried deep. A yellow house. Peeling paint. A dirt road.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

She went there.

The audacity of this girl. The sheer, reckless stupidity. She had gone to the one place on earth I was terrified to step foot in.

I grabbed my car keys off the table.

"I am going to kill her," I muttered, storming out of the suite. "I am going to drag her back here and lock her in this room."

But as I ran to the elevator, my hands were trembling.

I knew exactly where to go. The map was burned into my soul.

I killed the engine.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore and the rustling of the coconut trees that surrounded the property.

I sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, just breathing.

There it was.

It wasn't a ruin. It was exactly as I remembered it, except for the paint. The structure was traditional—a sloping red-tiled roof that sheltered a wide, welcoming veranda, supported by dark wooden pillars.

It stood alone, isolated near the ocean, with no neighbors to hear a scream or a sob. Just trees and sand.

I stepped out of the car. The humid air hit me, making my white satin shirt cling uncomfortably to my back.

I looked at the front door. It was open.

Katha was standing there in the doorway, framed by the dark wood. Her sage-green floral dress fluttered slightly in the ocean breeze. She looked out of place here—too bright, too alive for a house that smelled of abandonment.

"Come out," I ordered, my voice rough. "We are leaving."

Katha didn't move. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"Come inside, Dhruv," she said softly. "Take me."

I clenched my jaw. "I am not coming there. You have legs of your own to walk. Use them."

"Is that so?" She tilted her head, a maddeningly calm expression on her face. "But I am not in the mood to walk. So... no. I am not coming."

My patience snapped. The anxiety of being this close to the house was manifesting as pure rage.

"Katha, what childlike behavior is this?" I shouted, stepping away from the car but refusing to step onto the porch. "You are a fucking adult! Don't behave like a kid. Come here right now!"

"I am just saying," she shrugged, unbothered by my volume. "Come inside and take me. I will come happily with you. I won't fight."

"So you are not coming, right?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"No," she said simply. "Only if you come and take me."

I spun around and slammed his hand against the roof of the car. Bang!

"Fuck!" I roared at the sky. "Then stay here! Rot here for all I care!"

I reached for the door handle, fully intending to get back in and drive away.

"If you wanted to leave me," her voice floated across the yard, cutting through my anger, "then why did you come here? You could have said this to me on the call, Dhruv."

I froze. My hand hovered over the car door.

She was right. I could have left her. I could have sent a driver. But I came. I came because the thought of her being alone in this house—my house—terrified me more than the house itself.

"Fuck you, Katha," I spat, turning back to face her, though I still kept my distance. "Now stay at this place all your life. I don't care."

Katha didn't answer immediately. She turned around, stepping deeper into the shadows of the living room. She looked around, running a hand over a wooden pillar.

"Dhruv..." she called out, her voice changing tone. It wasn't teasing anymore. It was confused.

"You know..." she started, walking further in. "This house is cleaned."

I frowned. "What?"

"Everything is so perfectly placed," she murmured, her voice echoing slightly from inside. "There is no dust. The furniture... it's arranged. It doesn't look like no one is living here."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"What do you think, Dhruv?" she asked, looking back at me from the darkness of the house. "How is this house so clean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the sight of the yellow walls. My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms until it hurt.