Chapter 36
Kushal’s Penthouse – Morning
Arundhati stirred in her sleep. Her body was deliciously sore, her limbs heavy with exhaustion…
the kind that comes not from restlessness but from being completely, utterly satiated.
Even before her eyes fluttered open, she knew why every muscle hummed with that ache.
Last night, she and Kushal had finally crossed that line.
They had consummated their marriage. And nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever felt more right.
Months of distance, ego, and court battles had all led here, to this one breathtaking realisation: living even a second without each other was no longer possible.
She felt him before she saw him, as his arm slid across her waist, his body inching closer until she was pressed flush against his bare body. The warmth of his skin against hers drew a soft gasp from her lips. She wasn’t wearing a thing either, and every inch of contact crackled between them.
When she finally opened her eyes, he was already awake, watching her through lazy, half-open lids.
That morning haze in his eyes, the tousled hair, the faint shadow of his stubble…
. God, how could someone look this handsome even in sleep’s afterglow?
Kushal’s sharp, all-business look at Verma and Associates…
the suit, the authority, the control, was no doubt always lethal.
But his morning look, as he took her in like he was replaying every second of last night, was an entirely different kind of devastating.
There was no polish to this version of him. Just raw perfection.
The way his gaze swept over her, very hungrily, made her insides tighten all over again.
She lifted her hand and brushed her fingers along his jaw, over the rough stubble before tracing the corner of his mouth.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, smirking as his brows arched at her question.
His fingers skimmed over her bare back, drawing slow, lazy circles, gently moving south. “I should be asking you that,” he murmured.
She traced his lips again, her smirk deepening. “But you’re the one who put in all the physical effort,” she whispered. “I was just… enjoying the ride.”
Kushal’s grin turned wicked. He dipped forward, kissed her lips, then pulled back just enough to reply in his sinful voice. “Tonight, you take the lead. I’d love that view… You on top.”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she saw those visuals he painted with his words. His mouth found her earlobe and bit down gently.
“Stop it, Mr. Nair. We barely slept four hours last night. Tonight, we’re taking a break.”
He growled before he pulled her impossibly closer, their lower bodies brushing, and aching for more. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll give you plenty of breaks… in between making love.”
Before she could argue, his mouth was on hers again. The kiss was deep and needy, just like every other time. Her hands fisted into his hair as he rolled her beneath him, his lips moving to her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, until she could barely breathe.
“Kushal,” she whispered breathlessly, “we’re already late for work…”
He paused, hovering over her, his breath still ragged from their kiss. “We’re definitely calling in sick today. No work.”
She didn’t exactly object… but agreeing right away would’ve been too easy.
So, she lifted a brow and teased, “Sick? Both of us? Don’t you think that’s going to look a little suspicious?
Everyone at Verma the way his eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, as he stroked deeper, before finding hers again; the way every movement made his breath hitch, his muscles tighten, his jaw flex.
And those sounds…those deep, throaty groans that spilt from his lips as if saying her name in every breath.
There he was…Kushal Nair. The man she’d loved, fought, left, and found again. And this look, this version of him, lost in her, was one no one else would ever see. It was only hers to see. For the rest of their lives.
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One Week Later - Family Court, Mumbai
The press swarmed outside the family court. Today was the second hearing of Anant-Sadhna’s divorce case. Judge Meera Deshmukh had granted fast-tracking at the first hearing, and today, the court would listen to the witnesses and the arguments.
Sadhna sat with Maanya Kapoor at her side, wearing a designer beige saree, her eyes glistening for effect. On the petitioner side, Anant Mukherjee sat next to Arundhati and Kushal, looking pale.
Kushal leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice so only Arundhati and Anant could hear.
“Maanya’s pulled a last-minute trick,” he murmured. “Two new witnesses — Revati, Sadhna’s close friend, and Pavithra, her longtime makeup artist. Their testimonies are being added. We only got the names late last night.”
Worry clouded Anant’s face. “Revati? She’s like family to Sadhna… and Pavithra has been working with her for years. Why would they go against me? I’ve always treated them with respect.”
Arundhati exhaled slowly, turning in her seat to face him.
“Because they’re loyal to her, not to the truth. And loyalty can be manipulated easily when emotions are high. Don’t worry. We’ll handle this. You just keep your cool.”
Kushal met her eyes across the table. His look said it all: I’ve got this. He straightened his coat, and his eyes flicked toward Maanya across the courtroom, who had a smug smile on her lips as she met Kushal’s gaze, clearly thinking she had cornered him.
He didn’t blink. He simply returned the gesture with the faintest smirk…the kind that said you’ll regret underestimating me.
Judge Meera walked in, and everyone rose in respect. She glanced up from the case file once settled.
“Let’s proceed. Mrs. Sadhna Mukherjee’s counsel may continue with the alimony argument.”
Maanya stood, stepping forward sharply. “Your Honour, my client devoted two years of her life to this marriage. She put her acting career almost on hold, supported Mr. Mukherjee’s rise, and endured emotional and physical abuse in silence.
Today, she stands before this court seeking justice.
We demand an alimony of ?50 crores, in accordance with the lifestyle she maintained during the marriage. ”
Gasps rippled through the courtroom. Arundhati and Kushal didn’t flinch.
Judge Meera raised an eyebrow. “Abuse allegations have been made. You have proof?”
Maanya smiled faintly, signalling the bailiff.
“Yes, Your Honour. We have witnesses who will establish a pattern of abuse and neglect done to my client, Mrs. Sadhna.”
Sadhna dabbed her eyes delicately with a tissue.
Kushal leaned toward Arundhati. “She’s really a great actor,” he muttered under his breath. “So much of theatrics.”
Arundhati smirked lightly. “We’ve handled worse.”
The first witness was called — Pavithra, Sadhna’s former makeup artist.
Maanya began, “Miss Pavithra, you have been Sadhna’s makeup artist for years. You know her very closely. So, tell the court, during your employment, did you ever witness Mr. Mukherjee behaving aggressively toward Sadhna?”
Pavithra hesitated. “There were… arguments. Once or twice, he yelled—”
“Yelled,” Maanya repeated dramatically, “in public?”
“Yes. At the vanity van, on set and also in public parties where I’ve been with Sadhna Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Maanya cut in, glancing at the judge. “Aggression, Your Honour, habitual and public.”
Now it was Kushal’s turn. He stood, straightening his lawyer coat.
“Miss Pavithra, you said arguments. Would you say they both raised their voices?”
Pavithra blinked, turning to Manya and Sadhna, unsure what to say. Kushal blocked her view and smirked.
“The court is waiting,” he said.
She swallowed before nodding. “I suppose… yes. But, Anant sir was always the one to begin it.”
Anant shook his head from his seat, unable to believe this.
“When an argument happens, both parties tend to raise their voices at each other, Pavithra,” Kushal countered. “Okay, forget that. Tell me, did you witness Anant ever physically harming or threatening Sadhna?”