Page 106 of The Defiant Wife

"No, I do not."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You are red."

"I am sitting in the sun!"

"There are clouds," Rani says immediately.

I glance up.There are, in fact, clouds.

Traitors.

I let out a defeated sigh and look around at the circle of grinning faces. They're all smiling. Laughing. Completely delighted by something I haven't even admitted to myself yet.

Maybe they're seeing something I've been trying very hard not to see.Maybe children really do notice things adults miss.

Because somewhere between late-night bike rides, bowls of soup, teasing smiles, quiet reassurances, and hands that always seem to find mine . . . The walls I'd spent weeks building around my heart have quietly disappeared.

And judging by the way these little monsters are looking at me . . . Everyone seems to know it.

Everyone except me.

38. MORE THAN A STRATEGY

VEERAJ

The air inside the council chamber smells faintly of leather polish and fresh coffee. Around the long teakwood table, the senior members of the Shekhawat estate board sit comfortably in their chairs, looking far too pleased with themselves.

A projector lights up the wall behind me, showing charts, media reports, and rising approval ratings. Vihaan sits a few seats away, quietly following the presentation with his usual calm focus.

"The third-quarter numbers have exceeded all expectations, Kunwar Sa," the head of public relations says as he points at the screen. "Public approval for the regional agricultural cooperative has gone up by nearly forty-two percent since the royal wedding. Your appearance at the community festival, along with the candid photographs of Princess Diya with the children, has completely changed public opinion. The strategy has worked exactly as planned."

I sit silently at the head of the table, my hands resting on the polished wood. On the outside, I don't react.Inside, irritation slowly builds.

My jaw tightens.They keep talking about Diya as if she's a business investment. As if her smile, her kindness, and the way she lights up every room can be measured by percentages on a screen.

To them, she isn't a person. She's a successful campaign.An image.An asset that helped repair the family's reputation.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.They don't know her.They don't know how tired her voice sounds after a long day at the NGO.They don't know how tightly she held onto my shirt the night she woke from a nightmare.They don't know the way she laughs with the children, or how easily she blushes when I catch her off guard.They don't know how beautiful the patches of vitiligo on her skin look when the evening light falls over them.

They only see headlines.I see my wife."The media is already requesting another feature on the princess and her NGO," another director says as he slides a proposal toward me. "If we arrange a press visit next month, we can use her popularity to strengthen support for the upcoming zoning proposal. It's the perfect opportunity to maximize the asset."

"The asset is not available." My voice cuts across the room before anyone else can speak.The silence is immediate.

The director freezes.Vihaan slowly looks up.Everyone else shifts uncomfortably in their chairs.."Kunwar Sa . . . " the director says carefully. "We were only discussing the success of the campaign. The marriage achieved exactly what the board intended."

"The marriage," I say evenly, "is a marriage. Not a public relations campaign."

I close the file in front of me.The soft thud echoes through the room.

Then I stand.My gaze moves across every face at the table."My wife's work at the NGO belongs to her. It will not be scheduled for publicity. It will not be monitored by this board. And it will never be used to push political decisions."

I pause."The next time anyone in this room refers to my wife as an asset or a strategy . . . "My voice remains calm." . . . the meeting ends immediately."

No one argues.Several members nod without saying a word.The message is clear.I don't wait for another presentation.