Chapter 26
Viya
I had been staying at Puneet's apartment for two weeks now. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of trying to process the shattered pieces of my life and figure out how to put them back together into something that made sense.
Armaan had been there at the hospital on my discharge day. I had seen him standing in the parking lot, watching as Puneet helped me into the car. Our eyes had met for just a moment, and I had seen something raw and desperate in his expression.
But he had not tried to stop me. Had not said anything. Had just stood there and watched me leave.
It was better this way, I told myself. Better to make a clean break. Better to end this before it caused any more pain.
The day after I left the hospital, I had met with a lawyer. Mahesh Sharma, a kind older man with a reputation for handling sensitive family cases. I sat in his office and told him everything. About the arranged marriage. About the prophecy. About discovering the truth.
He had listened carefully, taking notes, his expression growing more troubled with each detail.
"This is a clear case of fraud and misrepresentation," he said when I finished. "You were not given full disclosure about the terms and intent of the marriage. We can absolutely file for divorce on these grounds."
So I signed the papers. Authorized him to proceed. And tried not to think about the fact that I was ending my marriage to the man I had fallen in love with.
The divorce petition was sent to Armaan a week ago. The law required him to respond within thirty days. But his lawyer had filed an immediate response, contesting the divorce and requesting a hearing.
Which was why I was now standing outside the Family Court, my hands trembling slightly as I clutched my bag.
Mahesh placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Remember, Mrs. Khanna, you do not have to say anything unless the judge asks you directly. I will handle all the arguments. Just stay calm."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
We walked through the heavy doors into the courthouse. The hallways were crowded with people, other couples ending their marriages, lawyers in black robes carrying stacks of files, court staff moving purposefully between rooms.
Our case was assigned to Courtroom 3. We found it and entered.
Armaan was already there.
He was sitting at the respondent's table with his lawyer, a sharp looking woman in an expensive suit. But I barely noticed her. My entire focus was drawn to Armaan like a magnet.
He looked different. Thinner, maybe. There were dark circles under his eyes that had not been there before. His suit was immaculate as always, but something about him seemed less polished. More worn.
He turned as we entered, and our eyes met across the courtroom.
The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. There was no coldness there, no distance. Just raw emotion. Pain and longing and determination all mixed together.
I looked away quickly and followed Mahesh to our table on the left side of the room.
A few minutes later, the clerk called out, "All rise. The Honorable Judge Meera Desai presiding."
We all stood as the judge entered, a woman in her fifties with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and intelligent, assessing eyes. She settled into her chair and opened the file in front of her.
"Please be seated. Case number 2347 of 2026, Viya Mehra versus Armaan Khanna, petition for divorce. Petitioner's counsel, please present your arguments."
Mahesh stood, adjusting his robes.
"Your Honor, this is a straightforward case of fraud and misrepresentation.
My client, Mrs. Viya Khanna, was induced into this marriage under false pretenses.
She was told by her uncle, Mr. Vinay Mehra, that he was seriously ill and wanted to see her settled before his death. This was a complete fabrication."
He gestured to the file.
"Furthermore, Your Honor, evidence will show that this marriage was arranged not out of genuine intent to create a marital union, but to satisfy an astrological prophecy.
The respondent, Mr. Armaan Khanna, was already in a relationship with another woman, Miss Avija Mehra, and intended to marry her.
This marriage to my client was always meant to be temporary, a duration of one year, after which he planned to divorce her and marry his actual intended partner. "
Mahesh's voice grew stronger.
"This is a clear case of betrayal of trust, Your Honor.
My client entered into this marriage believing it to be genuine, believing that her husband wanted to build a life with her.
She had no knowledge of the prophecy, the temporary nature of the arrangement, or the respondent's relationship with another woman. "
Mahesh sat down, and Armaan's lawyer stood immediately.
She was polished and confident, her voice clear and authoritative.
"Your Honor, my client contests this petition entirely.
While it is true that the marriage was initially arranged due to familial considerations, including astrological concerns, this does not constitute fraud or misrepresentation as defined under the Act.
My client entered into the marriage with full legal consent, performed all marital rites and ceremonies, and the marriage was duly registered. "
She placed a document on the judge's desk.
"Furthermore, Your Honor, my client wishes to make it absolutely clear that any initial arrangements or understandings have been superseded by genuine marital affection.
Mr. Khanna loves his wife. He has repeatedly expressed his desire to continue this marriage.
He is ready and willing to accept all responsibilities as a husband and has made every effort to reconcile with his wife. "
"Additionally, Your Honor, we must consider that the court shall not grant a decree of divorce if it finds that the petitioner has not led a consistent case.
Mrs. Khanna lived as Mr. Khanna's wife for approximately two months, sharing a marital home, and there is no allegation of any cruelty or misconduct during that period.
The marriage has been consummated, and I would like to inform the court that Mrs. Khanna is currently pregnant with my client's child. "
I felt my face flush hot with anger and embarrassment. How dare she bring that up in open court?
The judge looked up sharply.
"Is this true? The petitioner is expecting a child?"
Mahesh stood.
"Yes, Your Honor. However, that does not negate the fraudulent basis on which the marriage was contracted."
Judge Desai removed her glasses and looked directly at me, then at Armaan.
"Mr. Khanna, please stand."
Armaan stood, his posture straight and formal.
"Is it true that you love your wife?"
"Yes, Your Honor." His voice was steady and strong. "I love her very much."
"Is it true that you wish to continue this marriage?"
"Yes, Your Honor. More than anything."
The judge turned to me.
"Mrs. Khanna, do you dispute that your husband loves you?"
I stood slowly, my legs shaking.
"Your Honor, love that is built on lies is not real love. He may believe he loves me now, but this marriage began with deception. I cannot trust anything he says."
Judge Desai studied both of us for a long moment, her expression thoughtful.
"This court recognizes the serious nature of the allegations of fraud and misrepresentation.
However, this court also recognizes that marriages are not simply contracts to be dissolved at will.
The court places significant emphasis on reconciliation and the preservation of marriage, particularly when children are involved. "
She looked at her file again.
"This court has a duty to explore all possibilities of reconciliation before granting a decree of divorce. Given that there is a child involved, and given that the respondent is willing to continue the marriage, I am inclined to give this marriage another chance."
My heart sank.
"Therefore, I am ordering both parties to resume cohabitation for a period of six months.
During this time, you will both make genuine efforts to reconcile your differences and rebuild trust in your marriage.
The court will appoint a marriage counselor to meet with you both monthly to assess progress. "
"But Your Honor—" Mahesh started to object.
Judge Desai held up her hand.
"After six months, if Mrs. Khanna still wishes to pursue divorce, this court will reconvene and consider the petition with full seriousness. However, I will not grant a divorce today when there is a clear possibility of reconciliation and when an unborn child's welfare is at stake."
She looked directly at me.
"Mrs. Khanna, I understand you are hurt and angry. But I am giving you six months to determine whether this marriage can be saved. Use that time wisely. If after six months you still wish to divorce, I will grant your petition. But give it a genuine chance. For your child, if not for yourself."
She banged her gavel.
"Case adjourned for six months. Next hearing scheduled for six months from today."
I stood there in shock as the judge left the courtroom. This could not be happening. I was supposed to get my divorce. I was supposed to be free.
But the law was clear. The court could order reconciliation attempts. And I had no choice but to comply.
I turned to leave, needing to get out of that room, needing air and space and anything but the sight of Armaan's face.
But he moved quickly, intercepting me before I reached the door.
"I will come to pick you up at five o'clock this evening," he said, his voice low and firm. "Be ready."
Then he turned and walked away without waiting for my response, his lawyer following behind him.
I stood there, trembling with anger and fear and something else I did not want to name.
◆◆◆
Puneet was waiting for me outside the courthouse. I told him everything that had happened, and I could see the frustration and concern in his eyes.
"Six months," he said. "Viya, are you sure you want to do this? You could file an appeal, argue that the judge's order is unreasonable."
"And lose," I said tiredly. "Mahesh already explained. The law favors reconciliation, especially when there is a pregnancy involved. Fighting it will just delay everything and cost more money I do not have."
Puneet drove me back to his apartment in silence. When we arrived, I went straight to the small guest room that had been my sanctuary for the past two weeks and began packing my few belongings back into my suitcase.
Puneet stood in the doorway, watching me with sad eyes.
"I want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, you call me. Day or night. I will come get you."
I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision.
"Thank you, Puneet. For everything. I do not know what I would have done without you."
"You are my best friend, Viya. That will never change, no matter what happens."
At exactly five o'clock, the doorbell rang.
Puneet and I looked at each other. He squeezed my hand once, then went to answer it.
I heard Armaan's voice, cold and commanding.
"I am here to take my wife home."
My wife. The possessive way he said it made something twist in my chest.
I heard footsteps, then Ramesh's familiar voice asking where my luggage was. Puneet must have pointed it out, because I heard the sound of my suitcase being wheeled toward the door.
Then Armaan appeared in the doorway of the guest room.
He did not ask permission. Did not wait for me to come to him. He just walked in, bent down, and lifted me into his arms as though I weighed nothing.
"What are you doing? Put me down!"
He ignored me completely, carrying me out of the room, through the apartment, past Puneet who stood helplessly in the doorway.
"If you hurt her," Puneet called out, his voice shaking with anger, "if you make her cry, I will—"
"You will do nothing," Armaan said without looking back. "She is my wife. She belongs with me."
He carried me to his car and placed me carefully in the passenger seat, buckling the seatbelt around me as though I were incapable of doing it myself.
We drove in complete silence. I stared out the window, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge his presence.
When we pulled up to the Khanna house, I saw that everyone was there. Dadi standing at the door with tears in her eyes. Papa beside her with a gentle smile. Even Aryan was there, looking uncertain but supportive.
The front entrance was decorated with flowers and lights, as though this was a celebration instead of a prison sentence.
Armaan got out and came around to my side. Once again, he lifted me into his arms, ignoring my protests.
"I can walk," I said through gritted teeth.
"I know you can. But I am carrying you anyway. My wife. My home. My rules."
He carried me through the decorated entrance while Dadi performed a brief welcoming aarti. Then he carried me up the stairs, down the hallway, to the bedroom that I had shared with him for those two blissful, ignorant months.
The room had been transformed. Fresh flowers everywhere. New bedding. Soft lighting. It looked like something out of a romantic movie.
But there was nothing romantic about this. This was a cage dressed up to look like a paradise.
Armaan set me down gently on the bed, then stepped back.
"Welcome home, Love."
I did not respond. Just stood up, walked past him to the bathroom, and locked myself inside.
I heard him sigh on the other side of the door. Heard his footsteps as he walked away.
Then silence.
I slid down to sit on the cold bathroom floor and finally let myself cry.
Six months. I had to endure six months of this.
Six months of living with a man I loved but could not trust.
Six months of pretending everything was fine when my entire world had fallen apart.
I did not know if I was strong enough.
But I had no choice.
The law had decided.
And for the next six months, I would be Mrs. Armaan Khanna.
Whether I wanted to be or not.