Page 114 of Entangled Vows
She stared at him, scandalised. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s what you are when you’re pissed off.”
“You’re such an ass.”
He grinned. “And you’re my favourite fire-breather.”
She let out a shaky breath and nestled more comfortably against him. “This feels... peaceful. Like nothing else matters now.”
“Yeah?” His smile faltered, his voice growing quieter, rougher. “And yet you still want to run off to that beach house in fucking Australia?”
The question came out sharper than he intended, laced with an unwelcome bite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Do you know why I want to go?” she whispered, idly drawing circles on his chest.
“No.” He exhaled. “I just know you’re desperate to leave.”
“Because I want to start over,” her voice held a quiet steadiness. “For once in my life, I’m choosing myself. I want to live somewhere that feels like mine. A place where no oneis trying to control me. Where I don’t have to shrink myself to fit into someone else’s idea of who I should be. I want to leave behind all the toxicity I grew up with and finally build a life that truly belongs to me.”
“And do what there? Work remotely from some beach with a picturesque sunset?”
“No.” She pushed herself up, her palms pressed against his chest, her gaze locking with his. “I want to write romance novels full-time.”
He blinked, shocked. “You write?” He shifted, trying to see her expression better.
“I’ve been writing for the last five years.”
His brows pulled together. “How come I’ve never heard about this before?”
“Because my father hated it. He thought writing romance was silly. He made me stop.” She gave him a small, sad smile. “I listened for a while. But eventually, I started writing again. This time, secretly.”
His jaw clenched, fighting back his anger. The idea of anyone stifling her passion made his blood boil. “So you still write?”
“Yes, I write under a pen name. It’s just a side hustle for now. But it’s what I want to do full time. For real.” She was now lying on her side, facing him.
“And you never thought to tell me about this?” His tone dropped as he turned, fully facing her now.
She looked away for a beat, hesitating. “I didn’t want to because… this is temporary, Vicky. We both know that. I didn’t see the point of telling you something so personal when we’re getting divorced in a year anyway.”
“And now?” His voice turned hard. “What made you tell me now?”
Fuck. He was pissed. Here he was, thinking about her every damn second, and she was already planning to pack her bags and walk away.
“I needed you to understand that the beach house in Australia isn’t merely a piece of property to me. It is where it all began. That place was my grandfather’s. That’s where my love of books and writing began. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt I belonged. The thought of it being sold to someone who will tear it down for a commercial project is unbearable to me.” She paused and searched his face. “Why are you getting so angry?”
“Because you talk about that place like it’s your escape route,” he bit out, his voice clipped. “Like the moment this marriage between us ends, you’re going to disappear into that place and pretend none of this ever happened.” His eyes locked on hers, dark and unreadable. “And that idea... it fucking pisses me off.”
Mahika’s eyes narrowed, and her spine stiffened. “You don’t get to be pissed when I talk about leaving.”
He leaned in close enough to feel her breath. “We are not talking about it. Ever.”
She glared at him. “That won’t change the reality of this marriage.”
“I want you to stop acting like this means nothing.”
“And I want you to stop acting like we got married because of some cheesy Bollywood love story,” she shot back. “You’re making a big deal out of me moving to another country just because you can’t handle losing control.”
“You’re damn right. I hate losing control,” he growled. “Especially when it comes to you.”
