Chapter 24
Verma & Associates Office
Arundhati froze as Kushal stormed out of the library, his footsteps vanishing down the hallway like the tail end of a storm, but his last words still thundered in her head, deafening and brutal.
“You want a divorce? You’ll get it.”
She stumbled, her back colliding with the edge of a metal rack. A few books crashed to the ground around her, but she was too dazed to notice. Her fingers gripped the shelf behind for support as her vision instantly blurred.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
One sentence after another echoed through her head, all spoken minutes ago by the man who hadn’t just walked out of the room, but this time had even agreed to walk out of her life for good.
“Kamya and I? There was nothing.”
“There were no rings, no proposal. Not even intimacy.”
“I was already in love with you, Aru, long before I even realised it.”
“I love you.”
A violent tremor passed through her body as she recalled the last words he said before leaving…
“After this… I am seriously done.”
“F*ck Verma & Associates. And f*ck this marriage. Now, I don’t give a damn about both.”
“You want a divorce? You’ll get it.”
Her balance faltered, and she had to clutch the rack again to keep from collapsing.
The signed papers related to their next divorce trial still lay on the floor, lifeless and forgotten, just like their marriage. Kushal had flung them in rage, and now she didn’t even realise she stepped on them as her feet began to move, slowly, towards the exit.
Her body was disconnected from her mind. Each step toward the library door felt like dragging a weight behind her, like carrying the ghost of something that once mattered too much.
This was what she had wanted.
She had said it over and over again…for months. That she wanted the divorce. That the marriage was broken beyond repair. That he needed to let go, to stop trying.
And now… when he had agreed, why did it feel like something inside her had died in that moment?
Arundhati didn’t even remember reaching her floor, didn’t register she had just unlocked and stepped into the wrong cabin, her uncle’s cabin.
Raj Verma was on a call when she walked in, but he saw her and gave a casual nod, assuming she had come to discuss a case. But when she walked straight toward him without a word, and threw her arms around him in a tight, trembling hug, he immediately knew something was very, very wrong.
He ended the call mid-sentence and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as she was holding onto him.
“Aru?” he asked gently. “What happened?”
That was all it took.
She broke.
The dam burst, and heavy, uncontrolled sobs poured out of her. Arundhati cried like she hadn’t cried in years. Not quietly, not with dignity, but with a rawness that made Raj’s heart clench in panic.
He rubbed her back, tried to soothe her, tried to keep her grounded. “Talk to me, Aru. What is it? What happened?”
But she couldn’t speak.
She just kept crying. Loud, aching sobs filled the quiet office like grief.
“Aru… you’re scaring me. Is this about Kushal?” he asked again, more urgently now, gently pulling her back to look into her eyes.
But she didn’t meet his gaze.
She couldn’t.
Because how could she explain the chaos in her heart? The grief she had no right to feel? How could she tell him that she was breaking into pieces over something she herself had demanded for so long?
Raj cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears, but her eyes stayed lowered.
“Did Kushal say something?” he asked softly. “Did you two—?”
She shook her head in denial, pressing her lips together, wiping her eyes. She didn’t want to explain. Not to him. Not to anyone.
She took a shaky breath, stepped away from his embrace, and turned without a word.
“Aru—” Raj called after her.
But she was already out the door. Walking fast, head down, leaving behind the one person who could’ve comforted her, because she didn’t know how to explain that her heart was breaking over a man who had finally given her exactly what she’d asked for.
And it destroyed her.
*****************
A few hours later
Kushal disconnected yet another call from Raj Verma.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d done it today.
He had never done this before. But today had drained something out of him…
something vital, something he didn’t know how to recover from, and hence he didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Not Raj Verma. Not anyone from the firm. And definitely not her.
The moment he’d walked out of that library, leaving Arundhati and the signed divorce papers behind, he knew he wouldn’t be returning to the office that day.
Yes, it was wildly unprofessional. He had missed two client meetings, ignored half a dozen messages from associates, and left a meeting full of waiting juniors without so much as a text and gone completely off the grid.
But none of that mattered in the moment.
He simply couldn’t sit in that office and breathe the same air as the woman who had crossed every boundary, pushed every limit of his patience and love today.
Today, Arundhati had tested the last thread of his damn humanity.
Now, hours later, Kushal sat at the bar counter of an old bar tucked in the quieter end of the city. It wasn’t very fancy, but it served its purpose…dark enough to disappear into, quiet enough for thoughts to be loud.
The music had been turned low long ago. He’d driven aimlessly through the city for nearly two hours before landing here, hoping the alcohol would wash away the wreckage of the day.
He hadn’t planned to drink this much. But somewhere between the first glass and the fifth, it became clear that no amount of liquor was going to help him forget what had unfolded between him and Arundhati.
It was all still there. Her voice still echoed in his head.
Her eyes still haunted him. Her defiance still gripped his chest like a fist.
He downed another drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache, and slammed the glass onto the counter with a sharp thud.
“Refill,” he muttered.
The bartender gave him a long, measured look, then sighed. “Sorry, sir, we’re closing down.”
Kushal didn’t even look at him. “Refill,” he repeated.
But the bartender stood his ground.
“Sir, you’ve had enough. I understand you’re going through something, but we have rules. I can’t serve you more. And if you’ll allow a man-to-man word of advice…no grief is worth drinking yourself to the ground over.”
That struck a nerve.
Kushal pushed off the barstool, steadying himself with one hand. He could still stand, barely. But the fury in his voice was clear.
“No grief is worth this much drinking, huh?” he repeated, bitterly. His eyes, slightly bloodshot, bore into the bartender. “Do you even know what I’m grieving?”
The bartender said nothing, just gave a professional shrug.
Kushal leaned in closer. “I’m divorcing. You know what that’s like?” he laughed hollowly.
The bartender exhaled slowly, nodding, almost sympathetic.
But Kushal wasn’t finished. He let out a bitter laugh this time, his tone raw. “Take my advice, man to man. No grief cuts deeper than letting go of the woman you love…just because her ego stands taller than you, taller than your marriage, taller than the damn love you have for her.”
He was about to stumble when a hand caught his arm.
“Kushal?”
Kushal turned, blinking through his haze, and stared at the man now holding him up.
“Rajveer?”
It was Rajveer Chopra, his past client and a friend he hadn’t expected to see tonight, especially not here. Rajveer and his wife, Ananya, had run into Kushal and Arundhati in Dalhousie just a few days ago.
Rajveer looked stunned at Kushal’s state. “What the hell, man? What are you doing here? And why the hell are you this drunk?”
Kushal just grinned, his face tired, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry. I might be a little drunk.”
“A little?” Rajveer snapped. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Let me drop you home.”
Kushal shook his head, fumbling for his phone. “No thanks. Got my car. Parked right outside.”
Rajveer sighed. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way I’m letting you drive like this. Not happening.”
Kushal tried to protest, but Rajveer had already wrapped one arm firmly around his shoulders, guiding him out of the bar like a bouncer escorting a belligerent celebrity.
“Come on,” Rajveer muttered. “You’re not drinking yourself to hell tonight, buddy. Not on my watch.”
And Kushal, who was too tired, too broken, and too drunk to fight it, let himself be led into the night.
****************
Next Morning – Kushal’s Penthouse
Kushal woke up with his head pounding, a dull, insistent ache throbbing behind his temples.
The light filtering through the curtains only made it worse.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the hangover fog clouding his memory.
He didn’t remember how he’d gotten home.
In fact, he barely remembered leaving the bar.
Still groggy and in no mood for reflection, he got out of bed and shuffled toward the kitchen in search of painkillers. But just as he turned the corner, a voice pulled him up short.
“Good morning.”
He froze.
Rajveer Chopra stretched out on the living room couch, looking entirely too casual for someone who clearly wasn’t supposed to be there. Kushal blinked at him, confused and speechless.
“What the hell?” he muttered. “What are you doing here?”
Rajveer chuckled. “So, you remember nothing, huh? Not surprising. After all, you were pretty close to drinking the bar dry last night.”
Kushal rubbed his temple, slowly piecing things together. The bar. The drinks. The bartender refusing another round. Rajveer’s voice, his hand on his shoulder, telling him he’d drive him home.