Chapter 23 #2
He didn’t need sound to understand what was happening.
He saw the shift in her face the second the journalist brought him and Kamya together into the conversation.
He saw the way her eyes darted, lips parted, but no words followed.
Then the flash of confusion, the spiralling panic, the unmistakable signs of her zoning out.
God. She had nearly blacked out on that stage.
Kushal didn’t waste a second. He turned on his heel and left the court premises, keys already clenched in his hand. He slid into the driver’s seat of his car, engine roaring to life, and the wheels screeched onto the road before the door was fully shut.
He tried calling her. Once. Twice. Then again. No response. It had been hours now, two, maybe three since the press meet fiasco when he finally reached the firm. He parked without bothering to align straight, left the door half open, and stormed through the glass doors like a man possessed.
The moment he turned the corridor, he saw Raj Verma exiting one of the conference rooms. Kushal didn’t wait for pleasantries.
“How could you let that happen without me?” he asked.
Raj looked up, clearly expecting the confrontation. “You were in court, Kushal. Someone had to address the press. We couldn’t delay it any further. The Noyonika narrative was spinning too fast.”
“I could’ve reassigned the hearing,” Kushal snapped, stepping closer.
“I’m leading this divorce case with Arundhati.
I had to be there too. And to be honest, I still wouldn’t have cared.
I would’ve let it go... but you announced Kamya Bakshi’s involvement.
You didn’t think the media would connect it back to me and Aru?
You thought they’d just gloss over that? ”
Raj exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I misjudged. I see that now.”
Kushal’s shoulders stiffened. This wasn’t just professional, it was deeply personal. And Raj Verma had always known that.
A beat passed. Then Kushal ran a hand through his hair, composing himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was just—” he paused to exhale.
“—worried for her,” Raj finished that statement for him.
Kushal nodded.
“I didn’t mind it, Kushal. Not one bit,” Raj replied. “Because that’s all I’ve ever wanted. For someone to be there for Arundhati like I am there for her.”
Kushal didn’t hesitate. He met Raj’s gaze. “I’ll always be there for her. No matter what’s happening between us... she always will be my priority.”
Raj gave a faint nod in return, that hard legal exterior softening just slightly as he stepped aside.
“Go see her. She’s in the library. Said she didn’t want to be in her cabin.”
Kushal didn’t waste another second. After all the cautious, tentative steps they’d taken toward each other since Dalhousie, he wasn’t going to let one media ambush undo it all.
Not when they were finally inching back to something that almost felt like them.
But that wasn’t why he was pacing toward the eighth floor, not entirely.
He just needed to see her. Look into her eyes and know that she was okay.
That she hadn’t shut down completely again.
The library was quiet as always. Unless someone needed to reference ancient case files or dig into outdated law journals, it had become a quiet sanctuary in the otherwise chaotic building.
And that’s exactly where she’d chosen to disappear.
He could guess why. Maybe she was hiding.
Or maybe she was avoiding the one person she knew would come looking for her first.
He stepped into the library and instantly spotted her, tucked away between shelves, flipping through old files like she had something urgent to find. She didn’t look up. But he knew she had sensed him. Her back had stiffened slightly, fingers moving faster across the brittle pages.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“I’m busy,” she replied without looking at him.
He walked ahead, closing the space between them. “You mean trying to be busy?”
She turned sharply. “What do you want, Kushal?”
He didn’t flinch. If anything, her fire only pulled him closer. He stepped into the narrow aisle between the bookcases, moving in until there was almost no space left between them.
“Do you really want me to spell it out? What I want?” he teased, then reached up, about to touch her cheek, but she pulled back, his arm falling uselessly by his side.
“Kushal, please.”
He inhaled, composing himself. Fine. He’d cut to it.
“I saw the press meet,” he said, coming to the point. “It didn’t go well.”
She turned away again, eyes back on the file. “It did go well. We answered what we had to.”
“But you weren’t ready for those personal questions. If I had been there, I would’ve stopped them before they spun out of control.”
She shrugged. “That’s your lookout. It didn’t matter to me what you would’ve replied to those questions. I was there to do my part…inform the media about the legal proceedings in Anant’s case, and I did exactly that.”
That stung more than he expected.
“If it didn’t matter, then why did you zone out like that?” he asked.
Her body went rigid.
“I’ve seen you hold your ground in courtrooms packed with vultures, Aru,” he continued. “You’ve stood in front of press panels, shut down smirking prosecutors like it was child’s play. You never wavered. Not once. So why this time? Because it matters.”
Arundhati swallowed hard. Her hands clutched the old file, but her fingers weren’t moving anymore. Her lips parted, maybe to answer, maybe to deflect, but before she could speak, there was a soft knock at the door.
They both turned.
Akash, the young junior lawyer, poked his head in, awkward but apologetic. “Uh… sorry to interrupt,” he said hesitantly before stepping into the library, holding a slim folder.
He offered a polite nod to Kushal. “Hello, Sir.” Then turned to Arundhati. “Ma’am… these need your signature.”
His eyes flicked toward Kushal in between.
Arundhati took the file without a word. She flipped open the pages, and almost instantly, her expression changed.
“What papers are these?” Kushal asked Akash sharply in suspicion.
Akash hesitated. “Uh… formalities, sir. Next week is the second hearing for your and ma’am’s divorce case.
As per court directions, we need to file an Affidavit of Evidence from ma’am’s side, along with the updated rejoinder to the written statement filed by you, sir.
These require her signature before submission. ”
The air changed.
Kushal turned slowly toward Arundhati, who was still reading the documents in silence, her face showing no reaction. No argument. Just quiet calm that only fuelled the storm rising in him.
“Leave,” Kushal said curtly, not taking his eyes off her.
Akash blinked, unsure. “Sir?”
“You’ve done your part. We’ll take it from here. Please leave.”
Understanding the tension in the room, Akash nodded and backed away. “I’ll be in my cabin, ma’am. Just let me know once you’re done, and I’ll have them collected.” He slipped out quickly.
Kushal watched Arundhati as she placed the file on the desk, reached for the pen beside it, and began flipping to the signature fields.
She didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.
He didn’t move to stop her, but his entire body was tight, locked in place, heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to break out. He waited, almost daring her to look up at him. But she didn’t.
And then…she signed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
That was it.
His restraint snapped.
Before she could even cap the pen, Kushal lunged forward and snatched the papers from the desk, clutching them in his hand like they were evidence of a betrayal.
“What is this?” he demanded, his voice shaking with the fury he hadn’t let out until now.
Arundhati simply looked up, and crossed her arms.
“You seriously just signed these?” he barked. “Without even blinking? Without even thinking?”
She still said nothing.
“Why, Aru? After everything we’ve been through? How could you?”
“I didn’t do anything you weren’t aware of, Kushal. Even you know the next trial date is coming soon.”
He laughed bitterly, holding up the papers. “Yes, I know, but something has changed between us after Dalhousie. What about that?”
She tilted her head. “What about Dalhousie?”
That was the final straw.
Kushal stepped closer, so close now she could feel the heat radiating off his chest. “What about Dalhousie? Are you really asking me that? You and I were together every single night there. Do you think I could possibly forget how it felt to fall asleep next to you again after all those months? Or what it meant when things went too far that last night we were there?”
Her breath caught, recalling he was talking about their intimate night when they were so close to consummating their marriage.
Yet, she didn’t flinch.
“And last night,” he continued, softer now, wounded more than angry.
“What was that? I know I was the one who came to you. But you let me in your house. You let me sleep beside you. You didn’t push me away.
It wasn’t some one-sided madness. I know what I saw.
You missed me, too. I could feel it. Don’t you dare stand there pretending like none of this was real. ”
“It was real.” Her eyes shone as she finally replied. “But so are these papers. We are divorcing, Kushal. I never said or promised you anything apart from that, did I?”
“What the fuck, Aru?” he exploded, voice rising before he could hold it back.
He looked at her like he didn’t recognise her for a moment. The one who used to melt in his arms. The one he had convinced himself was still his… was still saying this?
“I thought the last few days must have led you to rethink about us.” His voice cracked, frustration spilling out of every word now.
“And now you mean to say I was just… wrong? That you didn’t feel any of it?
What was all of this then? Some sort of sick game?
Why were you leading me on if you didn’t want more? Why?”
She didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but her silence stung worse than any scream.
“One moment you make me believe there’s a future between us, and the next you sign these divorce-related papers like you don’t want me at all? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He flung the signed papers onto the floor, and then, before she could react, stepped forward, gripped her arms, and pinned her firmly against the wall of the library, between shelves of dead law books.
“Kushal?” she said, startled.
But he hushed her with a single look. There was no threat in his touch, only raw ache.
“You’ve dodged this conversation long enough,” he snapped.
“So, now, you’re going to hear me out once and for all.
Kamya and I? There was nothing. Yes, I once considered the idea of marrying her, settling down, but it was just a passing thought.
There were no rings, no proposal. Not even intimacy. Nothing.”
He paused.
“From the day you came into my life, it’s only ever been you.
The mistake I made was not telling you that sooner.
Not being honest. Not while we were married.
Not when I should have. I let things rot in silence.
And the day you heard about it from someone else and walked out… I realised what I’d lost.”
His voice cracked again, this time with pain.
“In that silence… that separation… I missed you so much, Aru. I hated coming home to a house that didn’t smell like your coffee.
I hated every night I didn’t see your light on.
That’s when it hit me. I was already in love with you, long before I even realised it. ”
He paused, his eyes locking onto hers.
“But I kept waiting—for you to come back. I wanted it to be your choice, not something I had to beg for. You left the house over what I thought was a simple misunderstanding. And then you shut every door. You blocked me from everything. You’d change your path if you saw me at work.
In a group, you’d stand next to me like I didn’t even exist.”
He swallowed hard, shaking his head.
“All of that…your silence, your distance, it got into my head. And I let it. My ego… yeah, you know it’s always been there.
It stopped me from doing what I should’ve done long ago…
come to you, face you, tell you I was sorry.
That I was wrong. I’ve wasted nine months in pride and silence.
But not anymore. So I’m saying it now, clearly, finally: I’m in love with you, Aru. I love you.”
He stepped back an inch, his eyes searching hers. “And I’m saying this just once. It’s only you I want.”
That’s when she finally spoke.
“Just me? You just want me in your life?”
He didn’t understand.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She stared at him, like she’d been holding that question in for far too long. “What about Verma & Associates?” she asked. “The other reason you married me.”
Kushal flinched, but she didn’t stop.
“You’ve wanted to be on top of this firm since the day you walked into it. You’ve lived for the power, the name, the control. You married into the Verma name as much as you married me.”
He just stared at her, but she kept going.
“So now what?” she asked. “What happens if I ask you to choose? If I tell you that you can only have one. Me… or Verma & Associates. What would you pick, Kushal?”
That was it.
That’s when he lost his remaining cool.
He stared at her, stunned for a second, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
“You want me to choose?” he muttered, stepping back completely, arms dropping to his sides. “After everything I’ve done to prove how much I regret losing you, how much I still want us, you still ask me to choose?”
He laughed bitterly, eyes burning. “You know what? I’m done.”
Her breath caught, but she said nothing.
“After this… I am seriously done.”
He stepped back.
“I’ve put my pride aside, my self-respect, hell, even my damn logic. I’ve tried, Aru. But if you’re not even willing to fight for this… if I’m the only one still bleeding to make this work…”
He took a step closer to her again before venting out. “Then f*ck this. F*ck Verma & Associates. And f*ck this marriage. Now, I don’t give a damn about both.”
He picked up the papers from the floor. Held them up one last time.
“You want a divorce? You’ll get it.”
And with that, he walked out. Leaving behind only the sound of her breath and a silence that neither law nor love could put into words.