Chapter 6
Rain poured heavily over the city.
My sandals were soaked.
My feet hurt.
And my phone battery had died thirty minutes ago.
The bus had broken down halfway home, and after waiting almost an hour in the rain with no transport available, I had finally decided to walk.
The roads glittered beneath streetlights.
Cars sped past.
Cold wind hit my face repeatedly.
But honestly?
This wasn't new for me.
Before marrying Dhruv Malhotra, this was my normal.
Walking home late after work.
Saving money.
Taking buses.
Living carefully.
The only difference now was the giant diamond mangalsutra hidden beneath my kurti.
The symbol of a life that still didn't feel real.
By the time the massive Malhotra mansion gates appeared ahead of me, it was already past 10 PM.
Security guards immediately straightened seeing me.
One quickly opened the gates nervously.
"Ma'am!"
I smiled tiredly. "It's okay."
The mansion looked glowing and beautiful against the rain.
Like something out of a dream.
And yet,
It had never felt less like home.
The moment I stepped inside, warmth hit my freezing skin.
But the atmosphere inside was strange.
Tense.
Too quiet.
I frowned slightly.
Then suddenly..
"Where the hell were you?"
I froze instantly.
Dhruv stood near the staircase.
Still in formal clothes.
Tie loosened.
White shirt sleeves rolled up.
One hand in his pocket.
And God,
He looked furious.
Not loud furious.
Worse.
The calm kind.
The dangerous kind.
His dark eyes locked onto my drenched appearance slowly.
Wet hair.
Shivering hands.
Rainwater dripping onto the marble floor.
For a second, his jaw tightened sharply.
Then his expression hardened again instantly.
I blinked in confusion.
"You were home?"
A stupid question.
But I genuinely hadn't expected him to notice my absence.
Dhruv walked closer slowly.
Each step echoing through the silent mansion.
"You weren't answering calls."
I looked down awkwardly.
"My phone died."
"The driver said you never asked for pickup."
A bitter laugh almost escaped me.
Driver?
Interesting.
This morning nobody was allowed to help me.
Now suddenly there were drivers?
I quietly removed my wet dupatta.
"The bus broke down."
Silence.
Dhruv stared at me for a long moment.
Then finally looked toward the servants nearby.
"Why is she drenched?"
Nobody answered.
Nobody dared.
Because everyone knew.
His uncle had ordered the staff not to assist me.
And Dhruv probably knew that too.
But instead of addressing it,
He simply looked back at me coldly.
"You walked home alone at night?"
His tone sounded irritated.
Not concerned.
Like I'd created inconvenience somehow.
I swallowed tiredly. "I didn't have a choice."
Something in his expression darkened slightly.
Then his phone rang.
He answered immediately.
Business mode returning within seconds.
"Yeah."
Silence.
Then colder,
"No. Delay the Singapore meeting."
Another pause.
"I said delay it."
Without another glance at me, he walked toward his office while continuing the call.
Just like that.
The moment gone.
The strange tension disappearing instantly.
I stood there quietly.
Still wet.
Still exhausted.
Still trying to understand this man.
Because sometimes he acted like he didn't care whether I existed.
And other times,
He looked one second away from anger whenever something happened to me.
Not affection.
Definitely not.
Something else.
Possession maybe.
Responsibility.
Control.
But never softness.
Never love.
...
Later that night, after showering and changing into pajamas, I sat cross-legged on my bed with my laptop open.
The room was dimly lit.
Rain still tapped softly against the windows.
I quietly uploaded my resume onto another job portal.
Smaller companies.
Normal offices.
Places untouched by the Malhotra empire.
I didn't want luxury treatment.
Or private cabins.
Or people standing up because of my surname.
I just wanted to work normally.
Earn normally.
Live normally.
For a few peaceful minutes, the only sound in the room was typing.
Until,
A deep voice suddenly spoke behind me.
"What are you doing?"
I gasped and looked up instantly.
Dhruv stood near the doorway.
God.
How did this man move so silently?
He had changed into black sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt now.
Casual.
Yet somehow even more unfairly attractive.
His wet hair suggested he'd showered too.
One hand rested against the doorframe while his sharp eyes stayed fixed on my laptop screen.
My heartbeat became uneven immediately.
Not because of romance.
Because Dhruv's presence always felt too intense.
I quickly closed the laptop slightly.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"Move."
Before I could react, he walked inside and picked up the laptop himself.
My stomach dropped.
His gaze scanned the screen.
Job applications.
Different companies.
Different interviews.
The room became very quiet.
Then slowly,
Very slowly,
Dhruv looked at me.
Cold.
Unreadable.
"You applied somewhere else."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded carefully.
"I want a normal job."
His jaw tightened faintly.
"You already have one."
"I don't want special treatment because of you."
Something dangerous flickered across his face.
Then he placed the laptop down slowly.
"You are getting treated differently because you are my wife."
There was that word again.
Wife.
But somehow from him, it always sounded less emotional and more territorial.
I took a breath carefully.
"That's exactly the problem."
Silence.
Dhruv stared at me for a long moment.
Then suddenly laughed quietly.
A cold laugh.
Disbelieving.
"You really hate this life that much?"
His words stung unexpectedly.
Because despite everything,
I wasn't ungrateful.
I just missed feeling like myself.
I looked down softly.
"I miss being treated normally."
The room fell silent again.
Then Dhruv spoke quietly.
"You are a Malhotra now, Riya."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"And normal stopped existing for you the moment you married me."
The words settled heavily in my chest.
Because deep down,
I knew he was right.
Dhruv picked up my laptop again.
Closed it completely.
Then placed it beside me.
"No more job applications."
My brows furrowed immediately.
"You can't decide that."
His expression became colder.
"I can decide anything connected to my name."
Anger finally sparked inside me too.
For the first time since marriage, I looked directly into his eyes without fear.
"I'm not your possession."
Something shifted in the room instantly.
The tension became sharp.
Dangerous.
Dhruv stepped closer slowly.
Too close.
Always too close.
His dark eyes held mine with calm intensity.
"Then stop carrying my surname."
The words hit brutally hard.
Silence.
Pure silence.
My throat tightened painfully.
Because technically,
He wasn't wrong.
We stood there staring at each other.
Neither backing down.
Rain crashed outside the windows.
And suddenly,
For the first time,
This didn't feel like a forced marriage anymore.
It felt like a war.
....
The room went completely silent after his words.
"Then stop carrying my surname."
For one second, I just stared at him.
Rain crashed violently outside the windows.
Thunder echoed somewhere far away.
But inside the room.
Everything felt still.
My chest hurt.
Not because I loved him.
Not because I expected tenderness from him anymore.
But because no matter how hard I tried to survive in this marriage with dignity...
Dhruv always knew exactly where to hurt.
His dark eyes stayed fixed on mine.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unmoving.
Like he genuinely expected me to back down first.
Like everyone always did.
And maybe everyone always had.
But something inside me finally snapped.
Maybe it was the humiliation.
The constant control.
The loneliness.
The way he threw his surname around like ownership.
My fingers curled tightly beside me.
When I finally spoke, my voice trembled slightly.
But not from fear this time.
Anger.
"Fine."
For the first time,
Dhruv's brows pulled together faintly.
Like he hadn't expected that answer.
I stepped away from him.
My heartbeat pounding wildly.
"Bring the contract."
Silence.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Dhruv's expression hardened again.
"What?"
I looked directly at him despite my nervousness.
"The divorce papers."
My voice shook.
But I forced the words out anyway.
"I'll sign them."
The room fell deadly quiet.
For the first time since entering the room,
Dhruv looked genuinely caught off guard.
Not emotional.
Just... surprised.
Because maybe nobody ever agreed with him.
Maybe nobody ever walked away willingly from the Malhotra name.
But I wasn't fighting for his money.
Or his status.
Or his world.
I just wanted myself back.
Dhruv recovered quickly though.
Of course he did.
Men like him never stayed affected for long.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"You're being emotional."
That sentence alone almost made me laugh bitterly.
Emotional.
As if he hadn't spent days treating me like some temporary inconvenience living in his house.
I swallowed hard.
"No."
I looked straight into his eyes.
"I'm finally thinking clearly."
His expression darkened.
I continued before courage disappeared.
"You said this marriage is just a deal, right?"
Silence.
"You said you don't want emotions."
Another step backward.
"You said I should stop carrying your surname if I don't want your control over my life."
My throat tightened painfully.
"So fine."
My voice broke slightly.
"I'll stop."
For the first time,
Something dangerous flickered in Dhruv's eyes.
Not hurt.
Not love.
Something darker.
Something closer to losing control.
He stared at me quietly for several long seconds.
Then suddenly he laughed softly.
Coldly.
"You think divorce changes anything?"
My brows furrowed.
Dhruv walked toward me slowly.
One step at a time.
The atmosphere grew heavier with each movement.
"You signed legal papers, Riya."
Another step.
"The media knows your face."
Another step.
"The entire country knows you as my wife."
Now he stood right in front of me again.
Towering over me.
Intimidating.
Powerful.
"And you think signing one contract suddenly gives you freedom?"
His voice dropped lower.
Calmer.
Scarier.
I hated how easily he made me feel small.
But this time,
I refused to look away.
"At least then," I whispered shakily, "you won't have the right to control me anymore."
That did it.
Something in his expression changed instantly.
His jaw clenched sharply.
The calmness disappeared for one dangerous second.
Because Dhruv Malhotra wasn't used to people denying his authority.
Especially not someone living under his roof.
His eyes darkened as he stared at me.
"You think this is about control?"
The room suddenly felt too small.
I looked at him silently.
And maybe my silence itself answered him.
Because yes.
It did feel like control.
Every rule.
Every order.
Every cold command.
Every reminder that I carried his surname now.
Dhruv suddenly turned away from me.
Running a frustrated hand through his hair.
For the first time since marriage,
He actually looked irritated enough to lose composure.
"Unbelievable."
He muttered it more to himself than me.
Then he looked back sharply.
"You have absolutely no understanding of the world you're in."
His voice became colder again.
More controlled.
"You think working in random offices and travelling in buses will suddenly make your life normal again?"
I swallowed hard.
"That's exactly how I lived before."
"And you're not before anymore."
His voice echoed harshly through the room.
Silence followed immediately after.
Heavy silence.
Because that was the first time he'd raised his voice at me.
My heartbeat sped up instantly.
But weirdly,
I wasn't scared.
Just tired.
Tired of feeling powerless around him all the time.
I looked at him quietly.
"You know what the difference between us is, Dhruv?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You think money can control everything."
I took a shaky breath.
"But some people still care about simple things."
His expression remained unreadable.
I continued softly.
"Respect."
That word landed heavily between us.
Because deep down,
We both knew exactly what I meant.
Dhruv stared at me silently.
And suddenly the tension changed.
Not softer.
Worse.
Quieter.
More personal somehow.
Then finally,
He walked toward the desk near the window.
Opened the drawer.
And pulled out the same divorce file.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
Not because I didn't want divorce.
But because seeing him hand it over so easily still hurt somewhere deep inside.
Dhruv tossed the file onto the bed beside me.
The papers spread slightly across the sheets.
Then he picked up a pen and placed it over the contract.
Calmly.
Coldly.
Like this meant absolutely nothing.
"There."
His eyes met mine.
"Sign it."
The room went silent again.
Rain pouring outside.
Thunder rumbling softly.
And me standing there staring at the papers that would officially end this marriage before it had even truly begun.
My fingers trembled slightly.
But slowly,
I walked toward the bed.
Picked up the pen.
And opened the contract.
Dhruv watched every movement silently.
Expression unreadable.
Then my eyes suddenly landed on one line buried deep in the agreement.
And my breath caught instantly.
Because written there in bold letters was:
"Post-divorce, Riya will not publicly disclose any personal information, relationships, or private matters connected to Dhruv Malhotra."
My brows furrowed.
Then lower,
Another line.
"Riya will not marry or publicly date for two years following the divorce."
I froze completely.
Slowly,
Very slowly,
I looked up at him.
"What is this?"