The silence between you and Karthik was deafening. The arranged marriage had left your lives intertwined out of obligation rather than affection. He was often so engrossed in his work that the two of you barely spoke a word to each other.

That evening, as you entered the living room, you found Karthik sitting on the couch, his eyes fixated on a stack of documents. His gaze flicked up briefly as you entered, but quickly returned to the paperwork.

"Do you need something?" he asked, his tone cold and detached.