Chapter. 06

{Third person's pov}

If Evan had come home angry, slammed doors, shouted, Natasha would have known exactly what it was.

Instead, he smiled. He brought her coffee the next morning. He kissed her forehead before leaving.

He asked how she slept. And somehow, that felt worse.

But wasn't it his habit? He had this habit of acting nice after treating her like a project.

.......

Three days later, Natasha stood outside a photography studio, checking her phone.

A message from Maya appeared. "Lunch today?"

Natasha smiled faintly and typed a quick reply. "Yes. Finally." Before she could send it, another notification appeared.

The text was from Evan, "You're still at the studio?" Her smile disappeared.

"Just finished." She texted him back.

The reply came immediately. "The driver is outside."

Natasha looked up. The black car was already waiting.

She frowned. "I was going to have lunch with Maya." She texted him again.

Three dots appeared and then the reply came, "Another time." A decision taken completely by him, without her consent.

By the time she got home, irritation sat heavily in her chest. Evan was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, reading something on his tablet.

He looked up as she entered. "How was the shoot?"

Natasha placed her bag down. "Fine."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "What's wrong?" The question almost made her laugh. As if he didn't know.

"I wanted lunch with my friend." She said.

"You were tired." He replied, like she doesn't have a mouth to speak for herself or a mind to make her own decisions.

"I could decide that myself." She said.

Evan set the tablet down. A small movement. "I know your schedule."

"That's not the point." She replied and frustration was clearly visible on her face.

"No," he said calmly. "That is the point." Natasha stared at him. Evan stood and walked toward her. "You're exhausted, Natasha."

"I'm not." She replied straight. "You worked twelve hours yesterday." He replied.

"I'm still allowed to see my friends." She said.

"You are." The answer came so easily that it almost sounded reasonable.

it happened again. And again.

Never the same way. Always different. A dinner canceled because he had already made plans.

An interview declined because he didn't think it was beneficial.

A trip postponed because the timing wasn't right.

Each decision made perfect sense on its own.

Natasha found herself staring at her phone. Five missed calls from Maya. Three unanswered messages.

A growing distance she hadn't intended. When had they last met? Two weeks? Three?

She couldn't remember. The realization sat uneasily in her stomach.

Later that night, Evan found her on the balcony.

The city lights stretched endlessly below. "You've been quiet."

Natasha didn't turn. "I'm thinking."

Then his jacket settled around her shoulders.

Warm. "About what?"

She looked out at the skyline. "My life."

The silence behind her lasted a second too long.

When Evan finally spoke, his voice was soft. "You have a good life." It was a conclusion.

Natasha closed her eyes briefly. "Do I?"

His hand settled lightly on her waist. As if returning something to its place. "You have everything you need."

There it was.

Everything you need. Not everything you want. Not everything you choose. Everything you need. According to him.

His fingers traced slow circles against her side.

Gentle, The same hands that pulled her close after every argument.

The same voice that soothed every doubt. For the first time, Natasha noticed something she should have noticed long ago.

Every road in her life seemed to lead back to Evan.

"Natasha." His voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked up.

Evan was watching her carefully. The way he always did when he felt something slipping beyond his reach.

His thumb brushed her cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

The question sounded gentle. But she suddenly understood something. He wasn't asking because he wanted to know.

He was asking because he needed to. Because information was control. And control was everything.

Natasha forced a small smile. "Nothing."

For the first time since she'd known him, she lied.

And for the first time, Evan didn't know it.

Natasha was curled up on the sofa when she saw it. She wasn't looking for anything in particular. Just scrolling.

A habit more than an action. Then a familiar photograph appeared on her screen.

The party. Her thumb stopped moving. A business magazine had posted an article about the event.

The headline sat beneath the picture.

"Evan Ramos and Natasha Malhotra Continue to Dominate New York's Elite Scene." She stared at it.

At first, she didn't understand why. Then she looked closer. The photograph had been taken before the accident. Before the spilled drink, Before the argument, Before the terrace, Before Ethan.

Everything looked perfect. Evan stood beside her, one hand resting against her waist.

Exactly as he always appeared. Her gaze shifted to herself. The woman in the picture was beautiful.

Every detail carefully placed, The dress, The hair, The smile, Everything.

Natasha should have recognized her immediately.

Instead, she found herself staring.

The longer she looked, the stranger it felt. Because she remembered that night.

She remembered adjusting the dress Evan had chosen.

The jewelry Evan had approved. The hairstyle his team had suggested.

The schedule he had arranged. The conversations he had prepared her for. Even the smile felt practiced.

A version of her built for public consumption. A version everyone seemed to love. Thousands of comments sat beneath the photo.

'Power couple.'

'Relationship goals.'

'She looks amazing.'

'They're perfect together.'

The word made something tighten inside her chest.

Natasha lowered the phone slightly. The woman in the photograph looked happy.

Everything she was supposed to be. So why did she feel like she was looking at a stranger? A memory surfaced unexpectedly.

Ethan's voice, 'I built what you're sitting on.'

Then another. Evan's voice from the balcony. 'You have everything you need.'

Natasha looked back at the photograph. At her own smile. And for the first time, a question entered her mind.

If she removed Evan from the picture, what would be left of her?

The thought settled heavily in her chest. She locked her phone. And suddenly the apartment felt larger than before.

Like she was standing in a life that fit perfectly from the outside, while becoming harder to recognize from within.

.........

The next day,

Natasha looked at herself in the mirror, Soft, flowing fabric that moved when she walked. Light against her skin.

Bright enough to stand out in a wardrobe filled with blacks, whites, and carefully selected shades that Evan always claimed were "more sophisticated."

The red dress he'd picked for her hung untouched on the closet door. Along with the sleek bun he'd instructed her stylist to do.

Natasha had canceled the appointment. And done her hair herself. Loose waves fell over her shoulders now, framing her face naturally.

For the first time in a year, maybe longer, she had looked in the mirror and seen a choice that belonged entirely to her.

It shouldn't have felt significant. Yet somehow it did.

When she stepped into the living room, Evan was waiting.

Dressed in a dark suit. Checking something on his phone. He looked up and froze.

His eyes moved over her slowly. The absence of everything he'd chosen.

The faintest crease appeared between his brows.

There it was. The reaction she had expected.

The reaction she had dressed for. "You changed."

His voice remained calm, Natasha picked up her purse. "Yes."

"I told you to wear the red one." Like she had made an administrative error. Natasha slipped the strap over her shoulder. "I preferred this."

Evan stared at her. His expression unreadable. Which usually meant he was irritated. "You preferred it."

The words were repeated back to her. She met his gaze. "I did."

The room felt strangely still. Evan set his phone down.

Slowly. Then walked toward her.

Natasha held her ground. Even as he stopped directly in front of her. His eyes dropped briefly to the dress.

Then back to her face. "It doesn't fit the event."

"It fits me." The answer came before she could stop it.

Evan's jaw tightened. For a second neither of them spoke.

Then he reached up. His fingers brushed a lock of hair away from her face. The gesture looked affectionate.

To anyone watching.

Natasha knew better. "What's this about?" The question was quiet.

"Nothing." A lie and they both knew it. Evan's gaze lingered on her. Trying to find the reason.

Control taught people to notice resistance. Even the smallest kind. The drive to the event was silent.

Evan worked on his phone.

Natasha stared out the window. Neither mentioned the dress again. But the silence itself became a conversation.

When they arrived, people noticed. Not because she'd done anything wrong. Because she looked different.

More alive somehow. Several people complimented her. One woman even smiled and said: "You should wear colors more often."

Natasha thanked her. Before she could say anything else, Evan answered smoothly, "She usually follows my advice."

The woman laughed. Natasha didn't. Hours later, she found herself standing alone near one of the balcony doors.

The music drifted softly through the room. The city glittered beyond the glass. For once, she felt comfortable.

Comfortable in her own skin. Comfortable in her own choices. "You look better in yellow."

The voice came from beside her, deep and Calm. Natasha's breath caught slightly, she turned. Ethan.

He stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, his attention resting on the crowd beyond them.

Which somehow made the comment feel more genuine. A small smile touched her lips before she could stop it. "Thank you."

Across the room, she could feel Evan watching.

She didn't need to look. She knew.

And for the first time, instead of immediately correcting herself, Natasha stayed exactly where she was.

In the yellow dress, With her hair down. Wearing a choice that belonged to no one except herself.