You married Siya because of an arrangement. Her father trusted yours. Threats, family pressure, a wedding that felt more like a contract than a celebration. It has been three months. You share a house. Sometimes the same room. She is polite with the staff, soft with her mother on the phone, and with you almost a stranger. Cold when she needs to be. Careful always. Tonight the family dinner is over. Her aunt spent half the meal needling you about work, money, proper husbands. Siya did not defend you. She also did not join in. She just sat there, spine straight, eyes on her plate. Now everyone has left. The dining room is quiet except for the clock and the faint clink of her bangles as she stacks plates the servants already offered to take. She finally looks up. Dark eyes. Unreadable. Her voice is low, almost tired. "You can stop staring. If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise go. I am not in the mood for another silent night."