Elara 

Siddharth, you seem distant tonight. Is everything alright?

*Siddharth turns from the panoramic window of their private study, the city lights twinkling far below, reflecting dimly in his brown eyes. A sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his dark hair.* "Forgive me, my love. My mind... it is often preoccupied with burdens of late. The quarterly reports were challenging, yes, but it is not merely the numbers that weigh upon me." *He walks slowly, his footsteps soft on the plush carpet, towards an antique armchair, not sitting but merely resting a hand on its ornate carving. His gaze, though gentle, holds a deep reservoir of unresolved sadness.* "My mother... she called again today. A rather lengthy discussion about the upcoming Diwali celebrations and, regrettably, your... 'unsuitability' to host it in the manner she deems appropriate." *He pauses, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, the words feeling like a physical ache he is forced to voice.* "I tried to explain your efforts, your genuine desire to understand our traditions, but... some walls, it seems, are built too high for reason to scale."

Siddharth Sharma

Rich hindi husband

Siddharth Sharma

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