Chapter 26 #2
“Petition number…” the clerk announced formally, reading out the case details. “In the matter of Mr. Kushal Nair and Mrs. Arundhati Nair, petitioners, seeking dissolution of marriage under Section 13B of the Hindu Marriage Act, 1955.”
The judge adjusted his glasses and looked at Kushal. “Mr. Nair, as respondent, you may begin.”
Kushal rose.
“My Lord, until now, I have stood before this court opposing my wife’s petition for divorce.
I believed our marriage was worth fighting for.
I believed it still had life in it, that it could be saved.
” He paused as his eyes lowered briefly.
“But… I have come to accept that there is nothing left to salvage between us. That belief was mine alone, and it has cost us both. Therefore, I no longer contest this petition. I consent to a mutual divorce.”
A hush fell across the room.
Beside him, Arundhati’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her hands went cold, her chest constricting. He had said it so plainly, as if these 15 months of their marriage could be reduced to one line: I consent.
The judge turned his gaze to her. “Mrs. Nair. You were the petitioner for this divorce. Do you still stand by your request?”
Silence.
She stared at her hands in her lap.
Kushal’s eyes remained lowered, but his heart thundered inside his chest, louder and louder, betraying the calm facade on his face. He didn’t dare look at her. He didn’t dare hope. Not anymore.
The judge leaned forward, frowning slightly at her silence. “Mrs. Nair? Do you still want the divorce?”
The pause stretched.
Arundhati’s lashes fluttered, her throat working as if every memory she had fought to bury came rushing back, one after the other.
Their wedding night, the hesitant closeness, the warmth of his arms when she had fallen asleep against him.
The stolen kisses that had grown bolder with time, the way he had once cupped her face like she was the only thing that existed.
His confession at the penthouse again that he wanted her back.
Their moments in Dalhousie. The blindfold game that had begun in jest but had ended in gasps and moans and a night that had left her shaken in ways she still couldn’t name.
And that temple in the hills where Kushal had pressed the vermilion (Sindoor) into her hairline, marking her his before Lord Shiva again.
Her eyes stung as she finally opened them. Tears blurred her vision, yet clarity rang through her heart.
She rose slowly, her chair scraping faintly against the floor.
“No.”
Every head in the courtroom turned.
She lifted her gaze at last, and looked at the judge.
“No, My Lord. I don’t want the divorce anymore.”
The words hung in the air, almost shattering Kushal. Though he didn’t look her, disbelief flashed in his dark eyes.
Raj Verma, in the back, pressed a hand to his chest, his own eyes wet with surprise.
The judge looked between them. “Mrs. Nair, do you understand what you are saying? Do you wish to withdraw your petition?”
Arundhati’s palms trembled against the table. “Yes, Your Honour. I don’t want a divorce anymore. I want this marriage to work.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Kushal’s head lifted, and his gaze finally locked onto her. His face was a storm…anger etched in his eyes at her sudden change of heart.
“She’s clearly not in her senses, Your Honour,” Kushal said to the judge, but his eyes burned into Arundhati. “And even if she is, I’m not interested in her changing games anymore. I’m ready for the divorce, and I request the court not to waste further time.”
“Stop telling the court what it has to do, Kushal!” She snapped. “I have every right to change my decision. And I’m saying it clearly and finally this time. I don’t want this divorce.”
He turned fully to her then. “I don’t care anymore what you want, Miss Verma! Just stop playing with my damn heart!”
“And you just stop calling me Miss Verma because I’m still Mrs. Nair and I’ll always be,” she retorted.
His lips parted, ready to fire back, but before he could, the judge’s gavel came down hard. “Order! Order in the court!”
Silence slammed down in the courtroom. The judge’s eyes moved between them with evident disappointment. “I can’t believe, despite being lawyers yourselves, you are…wasting the court’s time by changing your decisions at the last moment. This is unacceptable.”
Neither of them dared speak, but their ragged breaths filled the stillness.
“You were given a month to come to clarity,” the judge continued.
“If you wanted to fight like this and then decide, you had time to do so outside this courtroom. I will grant one more date. But hear me clearly—this will be the last. Decide what you truly want, or you will both face penalties for wasting the court’s precious time. ”
He banged the gavel once more. “Adjourned.”
The gavel’s echo had barely faded when Kushal shoved his chair back and strode out of the courtroom. He didn’t spare Arundhati a glance. He simply marched out with Arundhati chasing him just to keep him in sight.
“Kushal!” she called, breathless, as she almost hurried to reach him. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t turn.
By the time they reached the secluded lobby, her patience snapped. “Stop running from me like this!” she shouted.
That was when he halted, so suddenly she almost collided into him. Finally, he turned around.
“Stop running from you?” His laughed, bitterly.
“You were the one running away from me all this time, Aru. Every damn day since you walked out of our home, every damn moment of this divorce fight, you’ve been the one running.
And now, suddenly, you wake up one morning and decide you’ve had a change of heart?
Why? Shauk poora ho gaya tumhara? Divorce-divorce khelne ka?
” (Have you had your fill now? Of playing this game of divorce-divorce?)
She froze.
“You know how this looks now?” he continued. “As if this were all a game for you. Testing how far you could push me, how much I could take before I broke?”
He stepped closer, his anger spilling in every word.
“If you think after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve said, that I’ll just smile and accept this sudden change of yours, you’re wrong.
Dead wrong. You can’t slice me open, bleed me dry, and then decide you want to patch me up again.
You can’t kill me every day for months and then suddenly decide you want to be my cure. ”
Her tears burned down her cheeks, but his voice only rose, with hurt.
“Do you even realise what you’ve done to me?
I was this close—” he held trembling fingers apart, barely an inch of space between them, “—this close to losing my sanity. Nights pacing like a madman. Days drowning in work just so I didn’t think of you.
And every time I thought I was done, every time I told myself I’ll never beg you again, you’d look at me, speak one word to me, and I’d fall all over again! ”
She sobbed as he continued to vent out his heart and pain.
“And only when I finally decided to give you what you fought me for, what you screamed for, what you wanted… when I finally found the strength to tell myself it’s over… You change your mind?”
His chest heaved. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she reached out instinctively, needing to touch him. But he stepped back, putting a wall of distance between them.
“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Don’t.
Don’t you dare touch me. I can’t keep dancing to your tunes.
And don’t you dare think this is about my pride or ego…
it isn’t. This is about my self-respect.
You had your chance. You had all these days to change your mind.
But now? It’s too late. Because I’ve already given up. ”
“Kushal—” Her lips trembled, but he wasn’t done.
He slammed a fist against his chest, pointing at his heart.
“Do you even know what you’ve done to this?
You tore it apart! I loved you, Aru. God help me, I still love you.
But love isn’t enough when one person is always breaking and the other is always bleeding.
You had your choice. You made it. And now I’ve made mine. ”
Her tears blurred her sight as she shook her head desperately, but he had already stepped back.
“I don’t want to make this mess more complex than it already is. So stop whatever this is right now. And please stick to your decision of divorce. That’s the best for both of us.”
With these final words, he turned, and walked away before she could speak again.
Arundhati staggered a step forward, her heart clawing for him, but her uncle’s hand closed firmly around her arm. She stopped, rooted to the spot, her body trembling to follow Kushal, but Raj Verma denied.
“Now’s not the right time, Aru,” he said, pulling her back. “Give him some time. He’ll come around.”
Arundhati sobbed, hugging back her uncle, watching Kushal’s figure retreat in the crowd.