Chapter 3 #2
Exhaling sharply, Kushal set his empty plate aside before grabbing the beer bottle and making his way to the balcony.
The city was alive beneath him, but his eyes instinctively flickered to the high-rise opposite his penthouse.
And there they were.
The same damn couple.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in their own world, foreheads touching, their bodies close, their intimacy noticeable even from a distance.
This wasn’t the first time he had seen them.
It wasn’t the first time he had felt that twisted sense of jealousy creeping in.
Not that he would ever admit it.
Because if he did, he’d have to admit he missed having his wife here, too.
And that was something Kushal Nair refused to do.
That’s why he hated this part of his nights the most. Because, despite all the arrogance, all the walls he built, all the pretences, the one thing he didn’t have was the one thing that taunted him every single night.
A wife who actually wanted to be with him.
Not just a wife in name. Not just a woman who shared his last name out of obligation.
And certainly not one who was determined to divorce him.
With a clenched jaw, he placed the bottle down, turned on his heel, and walked back inside, heading straight for his bedroom.
But again, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. It never did. Not since she walked out of this house and never looked back.
And he wasn’t sure which was worse? The fact that she left, or the fact that despite everything, a part of him still wanted her to turn around.
****************
Next Day
Arundhati’s car pulled up to the curb, but before the driver could even step out to open the door, she noticed the commotion ahead. Her brows furrowed. Something wasn’t right.
A group of nearly twenty women, holding placards and banners, had gathered at the firm’s entrance, blocking the driveway. Their voices rose in protest.
“Down with Verma employees were frozen in place as they watched Kushal barely contain his rage today.
He didn’t stop moving, didn’t release his grip on Arundhati’s wrist until he had dragged her into her cabin. The moment they were inside, Kushal stepped closer, his fingers reaching out to examine the injury, but she slapped his hand away.
“Don’t act like you care,” she snapped.
“Are you insane?” he hissed, stepping closer again. “You were attacked! You’re bleeding! What on earth makes you think I wouldn’t care?”
She didn’t answer, but her nostrils flared.
Kushal let out a harsh breath, shoving a frustrated hand through his hair before his voice dropped deadly lower.
“Had it been anyone else in your place, someone from this firm, someone I know, I would have cared.” His dark eyes locked onto hers.
“And you? You are still my damn wife, Arundhati. How dare you ask me if I care or not?”
His words slammed into her like a blow.
A part of her wanted to scoff, to dismiss it as another one of his manipulative tactics.
But there was truth in his voice.
And that’s what angered her more than anything.
“There is no point in you caring now,” she bit out.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Arundhati took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady herself despite the pain throbbing in her temple.
“All this happened because of you,” she stated coldly. “Had you not plotted that fake media story about Sadhna’s past money fraud, those protestors wouldn’t have been here today. You think people don’t see through this? That they don’t know exactly what we did?”
Kushal’s temper flared instantly.
“Oh, please. You think these women are standing here out of pure concern for Sadhna? You really believe their fight is honest? Don’t be naive, Arundhati.”
He took a step closer.
“I know groups like this. They don’t protest for justice. They protest for money. Sadhna’s team must have paid them to pull this stunt, to create chaos, to paint us as the villains. So, tell me, does that make her any better?”
Arundhati glared at him with fire flashing in her eyes.
“They would have come eventually,” she admitted. “But at least then, my husband wouldn’t have been responsible for the pain I’m in today.”
She pointed at her bleeding forehead, her chest rising and falling with emotion. Kushal’s throat tightened.
Husband.
The word suddenly suffocated him. She wasn’t wrong. This had been his doing. Indirectly or not, it had led to this. But Kushal was not the kind of man who bowed down to guilt. Before he could reply, the doors to the hall swung open.
Arundhati’s secretary rushed in, carrying the first aid kit, but she wasn’t alone.
Raj Verma entered right behind her.
The moment Raj’s gaze landed on Arundhati’s injury, his expression darkened with concern.
“Aru!” he strode forward immediately with worry. “Are you alright?”
Arundhati didn’t answer right away.
Because even though her uncle stood in front of her, the only person she was still glaring at was Kushal.
And he was glaring right back.
“What the hell happened?” Raj Verma demanded, turning to Kushal now, who stepped back, giving him the space to check on Arundhati.
“Some protestors were outside,” he said shortly. “I already ordered security to clear them out.”
Raj turned back to Arundhati, gently holding her chin to inspect the wound.
“Whoever did this will be held accountable. We’ll take legal action immediately,” Raj Verma declared.
Arundhati, still fuming, nodded slightly as her secretary started cleaning her wound.
Kushal watched her for a few seconds before he left the room.
Because if he stayed even a second longer, he wasn’t sure what the hell he would do.
And right now, he had bigger things to handle—Sadhna Mukherjee and her damn team needed to be dealt with.
He would make sure they never dared to pull a stunt like this again.
The moment he stepped out, a voice stopped him.
“Sir, I—”
Kushal’s head snapped toward Akash, the junior lawyer who worked closely with Arundhati.
“I what?” he barked, his patience hanging by a thread.
Akash hesitated, clearly sensing his boss’s fraying temper.
“I just wanted to remind you…” He swallowed. “That day after tomorrow is the first trial date for your divorce case with Arundhati Ma’am.”
Kushal froze mid-step.
Their divorce.
He had been so consumed by the media battle with Sadhna Mukherjee, the legal war for Anant, and the endless fights with Arundhati at the firm that he had momentarily forgotten about his own courtroom war.
A war he never wanted to fight.
He slowly exhaled before his gaze snapped to Akash.
“I don’t need reminders of my own case,” he bit out.
Akash took a small step back, clearly intimidated by the dark look in his boss’s eyes.
“Yes, sir. I just thought—”
“Don’t,” Kushal cut him off, before walking away.
But as he strode down the corridor towards his office, his mind was already spinning. Two days from now, he and Arundhati would be standing on opposite sides of the courtroom.
And despite every heated argument, every sharp retort, every insult they threw at each other, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that moment. Because once they stepped inside that courtroom, once their case officially began, there would be no turning back.