PEOPLE
“You could’ve married someone rich,” he said, his tone quieter now, not mocking—just… questioning. “Someone who would’ve seen this as a business deal.”
I let out a small breath, leaning back slightly.
“My grandpa wasn’t that easy to fool,” I said. “He knew I’d try to bribe some rich businessman and get out of it easily. So he made rules. Salary limits. Background checks. Everything.”
I glanced at him for a second.
“And that’s when I met you.”
A faint smirk touched my lips.
“I actually came to your house to threaten you… to withdraw the case.”
His brows pulled together slightly.
“But then,” I continued, tilting my head, “I got this idea.”
“To marry you.”
I flipped my hair lightly, that usual confidence slipping back into my voice.
“And since you hated me from the core of your heart, I was very sure you wouldn’t fall for me.”
I smiled, almost proudly.
“I’m so intelligent, right?”
He didn’t smile back.
Didn’t even react the way I expected.
He just shook his head and looked away.
“What’s the use of all this?” he asked after a moment.
His voice wasn’t angry.
It was… disappointed.
“The intention of your grandfather is completely ruined.”
My smile faded slightly.
I looked at him.
“He wanted you to marry someone you love,” he continued, turning his head toward me now. “To marry for something real. Not for money. Not for conditions.”
His voice lowered.
“He wanted you to live a happy life.”
A pause.
“But you ended up betraying his trust… and his wish.”
Something in my chest shifted.
Uncomfortable.
I leaned back, forcing my tone to stay casual.
“I don’t love anyone,” I said. “And I don’t need to.”
I looked ahead, my voice firm.
“Money is enough for me.”
Silence followed.
He turned his head fully toward me now, his gaze steady.
“Money is not everything a person needs.”
His words weren’t loud.
But they stayed.
I frowned slightly, meeting his eyes.
“Then what do you need?” I asked.
The question came out softer than I intended.
Almost… genuine.
“Some things can’t be bought with money,” he said, his gaze drifting away like he didn’t want to argue anymore… but also didn’t want to let it go.
I let out a breath, crossing my arms over my chest, leaning back like I had already won this conversation.
“If I go to a random person and give him a crore and ask him to love me… he will,” I said, my voice steady, almost careless.
He turned to me immediately, his eyes narrowing.
“What nonsense are you speaking?” he asked, a hint of disgust laced in his tone.
“That’s the reality,” I replied without flinching.
Because for me—
It always had been.
“Even your ex left you because you are not rich enough,” I added, my words sharp, like I was stating a fact, not wounding him.
For a second—
Silence.
Then he nodded.
Calmly.
Almost… too calmly.
“That means she never loved me truly,” he said.
No anger.
No denial.
Just… acceptance.
That answer caught me off guard.
Because I expected defensiveness.
Pain.
Not this quiet understanding.
I looked away, my fingers tightening slightly over my arms.
“It’s not easy to find someone who would love you just for yourself,” I muttered.
The words slipped out softer than I intended.
The noise of the mall continued around us—people talking, laughing, living their own lives.
I watched them.
Couples passing by, hands intertwined so naturally… like it was the most effortless thing in the world.
No force.
No conditions.
Just… belonging.
A small smile tugged at my lips without my permission.
It looked peaceful.
Safe.
Something I had never known.
My fingers fidgeted on my lap, slowly curling into themselves as my gaze dropped.
I will never get to experience this.
Not now.
Not ever.
It wasn’t even a sad thought anymore.
It was… a conclusion.
Something I had already accepted long back.
Because trust—
That fragile, invisible thing—
I had lost it somewhere along the way.
And I didn’t know how to find it again.
Maybe…
Maybe he is right.
The thought came quietly, almost hesitantly.
Maybe he still believes in love because he doesn’t have what I have.
Money.
Power.
Security.
But he has something else.
Something I don’t.
People.
A family that once stood by him.
Someone he loved enough to break for.
Someone he could call when things got heavy.
Someone who made him feel… something.
And me?
I let out a slow breath.
In that sense—
I am the poorest person in the world.
The realization didn’t hit loudly.
It settled quietly.
Deep.
I stood up abruptly, not wanting to sit there any longer with thoughts that felt too heavy.
“Let’s go,” I said.
He didn’t question.
He just stood up beside me.
I noticed my handbag still in his hand—the same one I gave him near the trial room.
He never returned it.
And I never asked.
Something about that felt… strangely comforting.
We walked out of the mall together.
The hot summer air hit my face, warm and dry, pulling me back into reality.
But even then—
Something inside me remained… unsettled.
Like a quiet crack had formed somewhere I didn’t know existed.
With the shopping bags in our hands, we stepped out into the open, the noise of the mall slowly fading behind us.
He walked ahead, unlocking his bike like this was just another ordinary day.
And maybe for him… it was.
I climbed onto the bike, struggling as usual, balancing the bags awkwardly before finally settling in place.
He adjusted his helmet, fastening it securely.
I placed the shopping bags between us, holding them carefully so they wouldn’t fall.
“By the way…” I tapped his shoulder lightly. “When are you planning to buy a helmet for me?”
He didn’t even turn.
“The day you stop annoying me,” he muttered, starting the bike.
I let out a soft chuckle.
Because we both knew—
That day was never coming.
The bike started moving, cutting through the evening traffic, the warm air brushing against my face.
For a moment, I just sat there quietly.
Not teasing.
Not talking.
Just… feeling the movement.
The distance.
The strange calm.
My fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the seat.
“At least cook something nice tonight,” I muttered, my voice almost lost in the wind as my hair kept flying into my face, refusing to stay in place—just like him.
The air brushed past me, warm and restless, yet… strangely calming.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Letting everything slow down.
Maybe… bike rides are not that bad.
Without thinking much, I leaned forward slightly—
And rested my head on his shoulder.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t planned.
Just… natural.
He didn’t react.
Didn’t stiffen.
Didn’t push me away.
He just kept riding.
As if this…was allowed.
As if this…was normal.
My eyes stayed closed, the faint sounds of traffic blending with the rhythm of the ride.
And somewhere in between that quiet—
A thought slipped in.
Soft.
Uninvited.
What will my life be after the divorce?
Will this all just… end?
This house I keep calling a “chicken house”…
His bland food I complain about every single day…
These dusty winds brushing past us as we ride like this…
Will I miss it?
Will I miss… him?
A small smile formed on my lips, even as the question lingered.
Because the answer—
I didn’t want to know it yet.
So I just stayed there.
Eyes closed.
Head resting on his shoulder.
Letting the moment exist—
Without giving it a name.
I lived like a queen in my own world.
Everything was always within my reach.
Meetings, decisions, people—
All of them moved the way I wanted, with just a word, just a glance.
Control.
That was my life.
Perfect.
Polished.
Untouchable.
And yet—
I never imagined…
That one day I would be sitting on a bike like this, holding onto a few shopping bags, wind messing up my hair, and begging a man to buy me a chocolate like a child.
The thought almost made me smile.
Because this—
This wasn’t my world.
It was messy.
Unplanned.
Unpredictable.
And completely… unfamiliar.
I rested my head a little more comfortably on his shoulder, my eyes still closed, letting the moment stretch just a little longer.
There was no control here.
No power.
No carefully constructed image to maintain.
Just… me.
And strangely—
It felt lighter.
Softer.
Better.
Far better than the life I had lived before.
Because for the first time—
I wasn’t trying to hold everything together.
I was just… letting it be.
He suddenly jerked his shoulder as the bike came to a halt.
I scrunched my nose immediately, pulling back with a small glare.
Seriously?
I got down from the bike, almost stumbling a little as my feet hit the ground, the shopping bags weighing down my hands.
Without even waiting for him, I walked straight toward the door—
Like I owned the place.
Like I had the keys.
Like I didn’t forget that I don’t even have them.
“Hey, madam,” he called from behind.
I turned, already glaring at him like he had personally ruined my day.
“Your handbag.”
He had taken off his helmet, his hair all messy now, strands falling over his forehead, a thin layer of sweat making it stick slightly to his skin.
For a second—
My gaze lingered on his face.
Unintentionally.
And then—
He threw the handbag at me.
I caught it instantly.
“Stupid,” I muttered under my breath.
He ignored it like always, walking past me as he unlocked the door.
I stepped inside like a storm that had no intention of settling.
The shopping bags slipped from my hands and landed somewhere on the floor without care, like they didn’t matter anymore.
I grabbed my phone and rushed to the bedroom, almost jumping onto the bed before he could even open his mouth to argue.
Safe zone.
I sat there, legs folded, already unlocking my phone like it was my shield.
He stood at the doorway.
Hands on his hips.
Shaking his head slowly—
Like he had officially given up on understanding me.
I looked up for a second and grinned at him, completely unbothered.
Then my eyes dropped back to the screen, my fingers ready to scroll endlessly into nothingness.
“Go… go… go,” I muttered lazily, waving my hand at him without even looking. “Go and make your bland dinner.”
He scoffed under his breath, turning away.
“I’ll put a full packet of salt in your food,” he muttered as he walked out.
I didn’t even look up.
“Your food already tastes like that!” I shouted from the room.
Silence followed for a second.
Then the faint sound of utensils in the kitchen.
The clinking.
The movement.
Life… continuing.
I kept scrolling, my face lit by the cold light of the screen.
Video after video.
Sound after sound.
But nothing really stayed.
Nothing really distracted me.
Because somewhere beneath all that noise—
There was a strange, quiet awareness.
That I knew exactly what he was doing right now.
Standing in that small kitchen.
Cooking.
For both of us.
Even after everything.
Even after all my words.
And I didn’t know why—
But that simple thought…
Sat heavier in my chest than it should have.