UNFAIR
VIYANA SINCLAIR
“You are not coming?” I asked as I got down from the bike when it stopped in front of my mansion.
Adithya shook his head.
“Call me, okay?” he said.
“You’ll be busy. I’ll come with Vihaan back home or I’ll book a cab,” I replied casually.
He took off his helmet slowly and glared at me.
“I am not busy. Call me when you need to come back,” he said, each word clear and firm.
Before I could argue again, he started the bike and drove away. I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the road.
The silence that followed felt… louder than usual.
I turned back.
The mansion stood tall in front of me, unchanged, unmoving—like it had been waiting without caring whether I returned or not.
How many months had it been since I last saw this place?
A faint smile tugged at my lips as the security guard opened the gate for me.
I walked in without stopping, my steps echoing slightly against the marble floor.
That divorced bastard is not picking my calls or replying to my texts after our fight that night and I came all the way here to slap sone senses into his pea-sized brain.
The workers in the garden froze the moment they saw me. One of them was mid-step, another still holding a hose, water spilling uselessly onto the grass as their eyes widened like they had just seen a ghost walk in through the gates.
I almost laughed. They probably thought their heartless master was out of town… and here I was, walking in unannounced like a storm that didn’t knock.
Oh god ....poor them, getting scared at the sight of me.
I walked past them casually, like I hadn’t just caused a full system shutdown in their brains.
“Relax,” I said lightly, glancing at them. “I’m not here to fire anyone.”
That didn’t help.
If anything, they looked more confused.
One of them nodded awkwardly, another immediately bent down pretending to work again like their job suddenly became very important.
I shook my head slightly, the smirk still lingering.
Same house.
Same people.
Same fear.
And yet…
For some reason, I didn’t feel like the same person who had walked out of this place months ago.
I knocked on the massive door that stood before me, its height and silence almost mocking my presence, and within seconds a maid opened it, her expression shifting instantly into shock before she lowered her head in a deep bow the moment she recognized me, but I didn’t spare her even a glance as I walked past her.
Every servant and maid inside paused in the middle of their work just to stare at me, their eyes wide, uncertain, almost fearful, as if they had seen something unexpected return.
Without acknowledging a single one of them, I dropped myself onto the couch, letting my body sink into it as I exhaled heavily and stared up at the high ceiling, feeling the vastness of the house press down on me rather than comfort me, because despite its size, its perfection, its luxury, this massive house failed to give even a fraction of the warmth that the small, chicken house had given me in just few months.
A maid approached me quietly, standing in front of me with her head bowed as she held out a tray with a glass of juice, its artificial yellow color making it obvious that it was something packaged and lifeless, and instantly Adithya’s voice echoed in my head, telling me to avoid junk, making my expression harden slightly as I waved my hand dismissively and said, “I don’t want it…
bring me something fresh,” before even waiting for her response as I stood up and walked toward the stairs.
My footsteps echoed through the house as I climbed up, each step carrying a purpose, a growing irritation, until I reached Vihaan’s room and pushed the door open without hesitation, only to find him sleeping peacefully, curled up in his comfortable bed like the world owed him this calm, like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ignored my calls, like he hadn’t walked away from that fight as if it meant nothing.
I stood there for a moment, staring at him, my jaw tightening slightly before I turned and walked straight into the bathroom, filling a bucket with water without a second thought, the cold liquid sloshing heavily as I lifted it, fully aware of what I was about to do and not feeling even a hint of guilt about it.
Yes, I am heartless.
Because this fucker had the audacity to sleep peacefully after ignoring me… just because I slapped him in the middle of an argument.
And honestly—
He deserved worse.
I poured the entire bucket of water over his face without a second thought, watching as he jerked awake instantly, gasping as he sat up in pure terror, his peaceful sleep shattered in one brutal second.
“What the—!” he choked, wiping his face as water dripped from his hair, his shirt completely soaked, his eyes wide as he tried to process what had just happened.
I stood there, completely unbothered, placing my hands on my hips as I tossed the empty bucket carelessly into a corner.
“I’m going to tell the servants that you peed the bed,” I said calmly.
“…What?”
I raised a brow, completely serious. “You heard me.”
“You’re insane,” he said, running a hand through his dripping hair.
He stared at me for a second, still trying to catch up with reality, water literally pooling on the bed around him.
“…You came all the way here just to do this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Jesus… you’ve actually lost it.” He groaned.
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging slightly. “But at least I pick up calls.”
That wiped the amusement off his face immediately.
"You fucking slapped me, just because I talked shit about you poor asshole husband and you expect me to pick your calls and text you back" He asked.
"Mind your words. He is no low than your fucking wife who fucked another guy and fooled you for ten years" I snapped.
"Can you fight with me once, without dragging her name?" He muttered as he ran a hand over his wet hair.
"Why? Getting shy when I drag her name?" I smirked as I sat on the couch.
"Shut the fuck up" he muttered as he took off his drenched shirt and tossed it away.
“I just drifted into a short nap after sending Zara to school, and you came all the way just to get on my nerves, bastard,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep as he grabbed a towel and ran it over his drenched hair and face, wiping away the water while glaring at me like I had personally declared war on his peace.
“You deserved it,” I said, crossing my arms, completely unapologetic.
“For what?” he snapped, dragging the towel over his neck.
“For ignoring my calls.”
He scoffed, throwing the towel onto his shoulder. “You slapped me in the middle of a fight.”
“And you ignored me after that,” I shot back instantly.
“What was I supposed to do? Call you and say ‘thank you for the slap, my dear sister’?”
I chittered in irritation.
“Don’t know what you found in him that your heart is fluttering for, him?” he asked, waving his hand in the air like something was flying around, mocking me. I rolled my eyes and looked away, refusing to give him the reaction he was clearly fishing for.
“What kind of butterfly is flying inside your tummy?” he added with a grin.
“The same butterfly you felt for your fucking wife,” I shot back.
"Stop bringing her into this." He clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Defending your wife who didn't even hesitate to fuck another man while having a daughter with you"
He glared at me before turning away shaking his head with a tired expression.
"Atleast my husband won't cheat me" I crossed my legs as the maid entered the room to give a glass of apple juice and I dismissed her immediately after taking the glass in my hand.
"Are you really eating without being forced?" He asked his eyes wide with amusement.
"Not eating, drinking" I said as I grinned.
"So funny" he said as he gave me a mocking smile.
"Call Rajesh. Let's talk about the divorce" I said as I emptied the juice and kept the glass on the table nearby. "That oldie?" He asked. "Yes" I muttered.
"I thought you won't divorce your poor asshole husband because you fell in love with him." He sing-songed the last part, just to get on my fucking nerves.
"Divorcing him is the best gift I could give him." I said, ignoring how the words felt bitter to my own tongue.
"Nahhh I don't think so." Vihaan muttered as he sat beside me on the couch.
"I think he loves you." He said so confidently.
"Wow, and I am Virat kholi." I giggled as I leaned my back on the couch. "I am fucking serious," he said.
"I am serious too. I hit a century in last match, you didn't watch it?" I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
I breathed out heavily as if I could brush off his words.
"Call that oldie and ask him to arrange for the divorce" I muttered as I stood up and tucked out my phone.
I texted Adithya to come back and he replied immediately as if he is waiting for that message.
"And you..." I said, pressing my palm against his shoulder. "...be happy that I am joining the company"
He smiled faintly and I turned away, walking to the door as I shouted "Announce my lazy staffs that their arrogant Vice-chairperson is back in control."
I grinned as I descended the stairs and heard Vihaan's voice from upstairs.
"Shall I drop you off in his house?"
I looked up, as he stood there holding the railing. "My husband is coming." I smirked as I flipped my hair with unnecessary attitude and left the house.
When I stepped out of the gate, I saw Adithya, already waiting there for me with his bike.
"You're on time" I grinned at him. There was a small cardboard box in his hand. Quite big.
"What's inside?" I asked.
He held out the box to me. "Open." He said as he took off his helmet, trying to attack me with his charming face.
I frowned at him as I squinted my eyes, looking at him suspiciously.
"A gift for me?" I asked.
"Kinda." He said, his lips twitching at the corner.
I bit the inside of my cheek to hide the excitement crawling under my skin.
"What's inside?" I asked. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Open. And don't expect something expensive."
I stripped off the tape from the box and opened it only to find a new helmet inside. I giggled as I took it out and looked at him, amused.
"What?" I breathed out in excitement as I chuckled at him, holding the helmet in my hand. "Wear it." He said smiling gently.
I put the helmet on my head but struggled to lock it in place. His leaned to me, and adjusted the helmet carefully on my head.
"Why? I mean..." I stammered as I couldn't form words. This was something ordinary. Something so simple. But...it felt different.
"Weren't you asking for a helmet from the beginning?" He muttered as his hands adjusted the helmet on my head.
I lifted my hand and pulled his cheek playfully. "Such a good guy you are" I chuckled and got on the bike, holding his shoulder.
A strange kind of happiness settled inside me, as I sat behind him wearing the helmet he had bought so casually....when to me, it felt like something much more than that.
I had argued about helmets with him in the most ridiculous ways, complaining, turning it into one of those meaningless conversations that didn’t really matter and yet today, without saying anything, without making it obvious, he had remembered, he had listened, and he had brought it for me like it was the simplest thing in the world.
And that simplicity… was what made it difficult.
Because right when everything in my life was slipping out of my hands, when I had already decided what needed to end and what needed to be left behind, he was unknowingly doing things that made walking away from him difficult.
The bike moved forward, the wind brushing past us, cool and steady, but my thoughts were far from the road, tangled somewhere between what was happening now and what was about to end.
What was the point of this helmet after a few days?
What was the point of something so thoughtful… when it had no future to belong to?
Because soon, it wouldn’t be like this anymore.
I wouldn’t be sitting behind him.
I wouldn’t be holding onto his shoulder.
I wouldn’t be part of these small, ordinary moments that somehow meant more than they should.
After the divorce, this helmet would probably end up lying somewhere in a corner, untouched, forgotten… just another object that once had a place but no longer belonged anywhere.
It didn’t feel practical.
It felt… unfair.
Unfair that something so simple could carry so much weight.
Unfair that he was making it harder for me without even trying.
I tightened my grip on his shoulder slightly, my fingers curling against the fabric as if holding onto something that was already slipping away.
The idea of leaving didn’t feel like a decision anymore.
It felt like something I was being forced to lose.