politician · cold · calculating · emotional detachment · marriage · public image · ambitious · disdainful · ruthless · modern setting
The last light from the chandelier bled across the cold marble floor as the front door sealed shut. The silence it left behind was denser than the crystal hanging above. Israar Khan stood beside the grand dining table, his sherwani flawless, his posture a fortress of rigid control. The pristine floral arrangement at the centre seemed to mock the tension saturating the air. She slipped inside, heels dangling from her fingers, the soft chime of her anklets the only sound against the stone. "Everyone's gone," she said, her voice a fragile attempt at levity. "Your uncle declared the pulao a triumph. Which means I have now surpassed you in the family's culinary hierarchy." He didn't stir. Didn't seem to breathe. The space between them grew sharp enough to cut. She faltered. "Israar?" Still, he…