Chapter 24 #2
He let out a breath and shook his head. “Damn… I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean for you to see me like that. But thanks for bringing me home.” He looked at the couch again—pillow, blanket, everything in place. “You stayed here?”
Rajveer nodded. “Of course. How could I leave you alone in that state? Thank god you remembered the passcode for the elevator and main door, even while drunk, or I would’ve had to take you home with me.
Not that I’d have minded, but then you’d have to explain your condition not just to me, but to Ananya too. ” He laughed lightly.
Kushal didn’t say anything. He remembered the code perfectly, of course. It was Arundhati’s birth date and birth year…something etched so deep he could never forget it.
He shook the thought away and looked at Rajveer. “Still… you could’ve taken the guest room. Why sleep on the couch?”
Rajveer waved him off. “Couch or bed, makes no difference. Nothing helps me sleep if my wife’s not beside me anyway.”
That one line cut straight through Kushal’s bleeding heart.
Rajveer noticed the subtle stiffening of Kushal’s posture, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes.
He exhaled. “So, this is about Arundhati, then. That’s what drove you to drink like that?”
Kushal didn’t respond right away.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Rajveer added.
Kushal’s hands ran over his face, trying to pull himself together. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” he said finally. “It’s just… there’s nothing left to say. We’re divorcing.”
Rajveer frowned. “But in Dalhousie, it looked like things were turning around. Honestly, I thought you were on your way to patching things up.”
Kushal gave a humourless laugh. “So did I. But clearly, I was reading a completely different story. She and I—we were never on the same page.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Rajveer’s phone buzzed. He glanced down. It was a message from Ananya. He quickly typed back a response and turned to Kushal again.
“I’ve gotta run,” he said. “Ananya’s waiting, and we’ve got a flight to catch tonight.
But before I go…” He stepped closer, his tone turning serious.
“Let me tell you something. I know it hurts, Kushal. Believe me, I’ve been there.
I once stood exactly where you are now…unsure if Ananya and I were going to make it, wondering if she even wanted to try anymore. ”
Kushal looked up at him, the pain behind his eyes raw and barely held back.
“But the distance made us realise what we really wanted,” Rajveer continued.
“We learned that we didn’t want to just exist without each other…
that we wanted to grow with each other. And that brought us back together.
I can’t promise you a happy ending, man.
Maybe you need to give her space. Let her figure it out on her own.
And if she doesn’t come back… maybe it’ll help you finally let her go. ”
Kushal nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
“Take care of yourself, man.” Rajveer patted his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Kushal said quietly, walking him to the door.
And when the door closed behind Rajveer, Kushal stood there for a moment alone.
Rajveer was right. It’s all he could do now.
Give Arundhati what she wanted—space, time…
distance. But in his heart, he knew she was too stubborn.
Hence, having any hope that she would change her mind was almost next to impossible now, and that hurt the most.
*****************
Three days later – Verma it’s affecting me.
I’ve tried calling him too. He’s not even picking up my calls now. ”
Arundhati looked away. “He’s your golden boy,” she muttered. “You gave him that freedom even to ignore you, his own boss. What can I say?”
“It’s not about ignoring me that’s hurting me so much, but the fact that you’re both hiding something, and I’m tired of being kept in the dark. This is no longer just about you two. It’s affecting the work, the energy in this entire place.”
Just then, a knock interrupted them, and Akash stepped in.
“Ma’am, Anant sir is here. He’s come to sign the preliminary paperwork for the first court session and to go over the procedure for the hearing day.”
Arundhati frowned. “I didn’t schedule that meeting for today.”
Akash hesitated. “Probably Kushal sir had done it.”
Her heart skipped.
She glanced at Raj, trying to mask the sudden tremor of emotion in her chest.
“Fine, get Anant seated in the conference room,” she said carefully.
“He’s already seated at Kushal sir’s cabin,” Akash replied.
“But Kushal isn’t here,” she argued.
“He came in just a few minutes ago.”
Her heart did a somersault.
He was here?
She caught the look Raj Verma gave her. Her uncle had read every flicker of expression on her face. Before he could say anything more, she picked up her phone and stepped past him.
“I’ll be right there,” she followed Akash out.
But inside, her pulse was hammering.
She didn’t know if she was rushing away from her uncle’s impossible questions or if she was hurrying toward the man she hadn’t seen in three days.
Arundhati took a steadying breath before unlocking the door and stepping inside Kushal’s cabin. And there he was.
Standing beside Anant, mid-conversation, dressed in a crisp white shirt that clung just right. He looked professional, and amazingly... good. So good, in fact, that it physically hurt to look at him and realise he wasn’t even sparing her a glance.
Every ounce of the warmth he had poured into her over the last few weeks, every soft look, every unspoken moment, every night they’d shared, was now locked away, as though it had never existed.
He hadn’t just pulled back. He had retreated. A hundred steps backwards into the version of him she had first known—distant, unreadable, courteous but cold. The version from before Anant’s case. Before Dalhousie.
But this time, it hurt more. Because this time… it was her fault.
Forcing herself to focus, Arundhati turned to Anant and offered a polite smile. “Good morning, Anant,” she said, extending her hand.
Anant smiled and shook it. She caught the moment Kushal averted his gaze, eyes glued to his laptop screen, refusing even the briefest glance in her direction. As if her presence didn’t register anymore.
As if she were just… another colleague.
It was a reaction she should’ve welcomed. It was so professional and detached. Exactly what someone in the middle of a divorce should hope for. But her heart twisted in protest. She hated it. And this time her mind was screaming out aloud clearly, that his cold behaviour affected her.
Kushal slid a set of papers across the desk to Anant and said, “Now that Ms. Verma is here, we can proceed. Start by signing these, and we’ll walk you through the hearing protocol.”
Ms. Verma.
She froze. He had never stopped calling her ‘Mrs. Nair,’ even when things between them had been at their worst. And now, here he was…deliberately stripping her of his name like it meant nothing.
She didn’t know why she looked down at his hands just then…maybe instinct, maybe dread…but her eyes found them easily.
And there it was.
Or rather, wasn’t.
The ring.
The wedding band he had never taken off. Not even during the ugliest fights. Not during the first court hearing. Not even when she’d sworn, she was done with this marriage. It had stayed on.
But now… it was gone. He had finally accepted it and taken off their wedding band too, just like she had stopped wearing Sindoor and Mangalsutra from months ago.
Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes before she could stop it. She blinked them away, fast and hard, not wanting either of them to notice.
They had a client to brief. And if nothing else, she could pretend for now that her world hadn’t just tilted on its axis from the absence of a ring. Their wedding ring!