60. RESIGNATION
As Vivan disappeared from their sight, Shivani grabbed Aarvi's hand and jerked her back inside the house. Her grip was tight, almost painful, as if anger had replaced concern.
In a firm, cutting tone, she said, "Why didn't you say anything to his father, huh?".
Aarvi looked at her, confused, still trying to process everything that had just happened. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Shivani continued, her words sharp and unrelenting, "He would have listened to them. Just like he did at the marriage."
That was when Aarvi pulled her hand out of her mother's grip, her voice trembling but resolute.
"He didn't listen to them that time either," she said. "They forced him."
"Then tell them to do the same again," her father spoke now, his voice calm, almost detached.
Aarvi's eyes widened.
" papa, how can you say this?" she asked, shock flooding her expression. She stared at him as if she hadn't recognized the man standing in front of her.
But his face remained neutral, as if he had just stated something ordinary, something obvious.
"He didn't say anything wrong," her mother added instead. "Vivan is a man. And on top of that, he has power, money things that can silence society. But what do you have?"
Her mother's words cut deeper as she continued, "No one will accept you after this divorce. I repeat - no one."
Aarvi's brows creased together, tears brimming in her eyes, her chest tightening with every word.
"He... he had a gi-girlfriend," she said, her voice shaking, breaking apart, "even when we were mar-married."
For a moment, she thought that would change something. That it would matter.
But what her mother said next shattered whatever hope she had left.
"Those people are rich. Famous," Shivani said flatly. "These things are normal for them. Don't make it a big issue."
She paused only briefly before adding, "Try to convince him. What if he declines this divorce?"
Tears spilled freely down Aarvi's cheeks now. Her vision blurred, her throat burning, her hands curling into fists at her sides. And finally, through the sobs she had been holding back since the party, she spoke.
"I was the one who asked for the divorce," she said.
Shivani froze. Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face.
"Wh-what?" she whispered.
Her father turned sharply toward Aarvi, anger dripping from his voice.
"Have you gone mad?" he shouted. "The whole world knows your fiance left you at the mandap, and now you are asking for a divorce?"
His voice grew harsher. "Just atleast think about our reputation."
Aarvi stared at them, disbelief written all over her face. Each word felt like a slap, each sentence a reminder of how alone she truly was. But even then - even now - she didn't break.
She lifted her chin, but her voice firm.
"I won't change my decision."
Before anyone could stop her, before anyone could say another word meant to cage her again, she turned around and walked away.
Vivan was sitting in his cabin, technically at work-but in reality, doing nothing. The files lay open on his desk, the laptop screen glowing faintly, yet his eyes weren't reading a single word.
His mind was already too exhausted, too bruised, too loud to let him focus on anything that mattered.
The silence in the cabin shattered when the door burst open without a knock.
Vivan didn't look up.
"What the hell am I hearing?" the man shouted, his voice was sharp.
Vivan, calm as ever, slowly picked up the laptop from his desk and closed it, as if this interruption was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"Sometimes," he said quietly, "you should knock before entering, Yuvan."
Yuvan's brows creased together, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Oh, so now I need permission too?" he shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Vivan's jaw tightened. His mood was already fragile-raw from the previous night, from the way everything had spiraled out of control, from the way he had lost Aarvi at that party. He didn't have the energy for this.
"I have important work," he said, voice flat. "We'll talk later."
Yuvan scoffed.
Instead of leaving, he barged forward, snatched the laptop from Vivan's hand, and flipped it open. The screen stared back at him-blank, empty.
"This?" Yuvan snapped, turning the screen toward him. "This is the important work you were talking about?"
Vivan said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Yuvan exhaled sharply, frustration pouring out of him now. "What is this divorce thing, huh? Why-"
"I don't want to talk right now," Vivan cut in, his voice low but final.
Yuvan froze.
Then it clicked.
His expression shifted, the anger dulling into something closer to guilt. "Is... is this because of that party?"
Vivan finally looked at him.
That single look was answer enough.
Yuvan ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his temple as realization hit him full force. Fuck. "That didn't go how I thought," he muttered under his breath.
He straightened, his tone softer now. "Vivan... I did that so you would confess. I never wanted to cross any line. Never." His words tumbled out faster. "But you weren't saying anything to her. Not a word. So I thought if I pushed you-if I made you feel something-you'd finally say it."
Vivan's lips parted slightly.
"How did you know," he asked quietly, "that I love her?"
Yuvan hesitated for a second, then answered, "Love doesn't need words. It shows in the eyes. Yours gave you away long ago."
Vivan exhaled, the breath shaky, like he had been holding it in for days.
"It's not your fault, Yuvan," he said after a moment. "It's mine." His voice cracked just slightly. "I wasn't angry at you. I just... I needed space."
Yuvan nodded, accepting that.
But he wasn't done."At least try to-"
"No."
Vivan cut him off immediately.
"This is happening," he said firmly. "And it's final."
Yuvan looked down. He knew Vivan too well to argue further. When he made a decision, he never took it back.
Still, one last concern burned in his chest. He looked up again.
"And what happens after the divorce?" he asked quietly. "You announced your relationship to the world. Do you really think people will let her live peacefully after knowing you broke up with her?" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She'll face the same hate she faced before."
For a moment, Vivan didn't react.
Then he said calmly-too calmly-"I've already thought about that."
Yuvan stared at him.
There was nothing more to say.
And somehow, that silence felt heavier than any argument.
the world broke his name.
Not as gossip.
Not as a careless whisper passed between curious mouths.
But as a headline-
cold, bold, unavoidable.
Pragya was halfway through changing the TV channel when the name froze her fingers mid-air.
Her hand hovered, unmoving.
Her breath stalled.
The screen shifted mercilessly, flashing images-
Vivan with Kiara.
Vivan with Aarvi.
Vivan with another girl, her face blurred just enough to invite imagination.
Captions crawled underneath, ruthless in their certainty.
Her eyes widened, disbelief flooding in too fast to process.
Business tycoon Vivan Singhania accused of betraying his partner.
Second relationship. Same ending?
Is Singhania incapable of commitment?
Each line hit like a slap.
Pragya's heart dropped somewhere deep inside her chest.
"V... Vivan?" she whispered, already fumbling for her phone, fingers shaking as if the device suddenly weighed too much.
Vivan sat alone in his cabin.
Not watching the news.
Not scrolling through social media.
Just sitting.
Still.
Silent.
His phone buzzed once.
Twice.
Then it didn't stop.
Calls from board members.
Messages from PR teams panicking over damage control.
Missed calls from friends who didn't know what to say but couldn't stay silent either.
And then-
his mother's name.
Again.
And again.
The screen lit up repeatedly, accusing him with her worry.
He didn't pick up.
He already knew.
He had known the moment he pressed send on that anonymous mail the previous night-
short, precise, merciless.
No names.
No context.
No defence.
Just enough poison to rot the truth.
Enough to make him the villain.
Back home, Pragya finally got through.
"Vivan," her voice trembled the moment he answered. "What is this? What are they saying on the news?"
He leaned back in his chair slowly, exhaustion sinking into his bones, eyes closing for a brief second as if that might steady him.
"They're saying the truth," he replied calmly, too calmly.
Her breath hitched. "What truth?"
"That I ruined it."
The silence that followed was thick.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Then, barely audible, her voice broke through.
"Why would you let them say this?"
Because they won't spare her if they don't have me.
But he didn't say that.
Instead, his voice softened, almost a plea.
"Maa... please don't tell Aarvi."
That was all.
Pragya's chest tightened painfully.
"You-this will destroy your image. Your company-"
"I know."
"People are already calling you names."
He exhaled slowly. "I.. I know."
Her voice cracked, fear and disbelief tangled together.
"She doesn't know?"
"No," he said immediately, firmer now. "And she shouldn't."
A pause stretched between them. Before he cutt of the call.
As time passed, the damage multiplied.
Stocks dipped.
Headlines stacked.
Judgement spread faster than facts.
Hashtags trended.
People dissected his past like a crime scene.
Mocked his present.
Predicted his future with cruel amusement.
Some called him heartless.
Some said he was incapable of love.
Some laughed-again?
And Vivan read none of it.
He just sat there, staring through the glass window of his cabin, watching the city move as if nothing had ended.
As if no promises had shattered.
As if no one had been broken.
At the same time,
Aarvi sat alone in her office room.
Unaware.
Scrolling aimlessly, thumb moving without purpose.
Her phone buzzed messages here and there but none of them showed her that news.
Because someone, somewhere, had already instructed quietly, deliberately:
"Filter everything related to Singhania from her feed."
That night, alone in his apartment, Vivan finally let himself breathe.
Just once.
He stood by the window, city lights reflecting in his tired eyes, the skyline blurring as emotions he'd locked away finally surfaced.
A bitter smile curved his lips.
"You won't face the same hate again," he murmured to no one.
He closed his eyes.
He exhaled, heavy with everything he had chosen not to say.
Because love, he realized, didn't always look like holding on.
Sometimes-
it looked like standing alone in the fire
so the other person never burns.
The cabin door opened without a knock.
Vivan turned instinctively.
The room smelled faintly of glass cleaner and cold coffee-too clean, too quiet. Outside the glass walls, the city moved endlessly. Phones rang. Cars passed. Deals were made.
Inside, time stalled.
Vinod Singhania walked in.
Not furious. Not loud.
That was worse.
He closed the door behind him carefully, deliberately-like this conversation needed privacy... and distance.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither spoke.
A son stood there-the man who had carried the weight of an empire.
A father stood across him-not just a father, but the man who had believed in him when the world hadn't. When people had said the Singhania name was finished before it even began.
Vinod broke the silence.
"Sit," he said, calm but final.
Vivan obeyed immediately. Old habits. Old respect. Some things never faded.
Vinod didn't sit.
He walked toward the glass window, hands clasped behind his back, eyes scanning the skyline that bore his legacy in steel and glass.
"Do you know what happened today?" he asked evenly.
"Yes," Vivan replied.
"The board is panicking," Vinod continued. "Investors are nervous." "The stock dipped again this afternoon."
He turned slowly.
"And they're not wrong."
Vivan didn't argue.
Didn't defend. Didn't explain.
That silence- tightened Vinod's jaw.
"This company does not run on emotions," Vinod said.
"It runs on trust. Stability. Image."
A pause.
"And right now," he added, voice lowering,
"my son is its biggest liability."
The words hit hard.
Vivan's fingers curled slightly around the armrest.
Still-he said nothing.
"You're in the news for all the wrong reasons," Vinod went on.
"People aren't talking about the Singhania industries anymore."
"They're talking about you."
A beat.
"Your relationships."
"Your failures."
"Your patterns."
Vinod exhaled slowly, like he was choosing restraint over anger.
"Brands are pulling out." "Share prices are slipping." "The Kiara scandal hasn't even settled and you've handed them another."
Vivan lowered his gaze, breathing steady, controlled.
"Do you think this is a game, Vivan?" Vinod asked sharply.
Vivan shook his head.
But Vinod didn't stop.
"This will ruin the company," he said.
"Ruin us."
Then, after a brief pause, quieter, but firmer "And I will not let it fall because of you."
Something tightened in Vivan's chest.
He looked up, finally speaking. "What do you want me to do?"
Vinod met his eyes without hesitation.
"Resign."
The word echoed sharp, final.
Vivan blinked once.
That was it.
No debate. No negotiation. No space for sentiment.
"You'll step down," Vinod said.
"Temporarily or permanently, we'll decide later."
"But effective immediately, you will no longer represent the Singhania industries."
A pause.
"For the sake of the company."
Vivan nodded.
Once.
No resistance. No protest.
"As you wish."
That was when Vinod faltered just for a fraction of a second.
"You don't have anything to say?" he asked, sharper now.
Vivan looked at him then.
Tired eyes. Hollow face. A man who had already lost everything that mattered.
"I already chose," he said softly.
Vinod's brows creased.
"You chose badly."
Vivan didn't deny it.
Silence pressed into the room.
Vinod looked away.
"Sign your resignation letter by tonight," he said finally.
He turned toward the door then stopped.
Without looking back, he added-
"You were always strong, Vivan."
A beat.
"I just didn't expect you to be strong enough to ruin yourself."
Vivan didn't said anything.
And Vinod again said,"Collect your things while the resignation letter is being prepared."
Then he turned and left.
The door closed.
Softly.
Vivan remained seated long after.
The cabin felt emptier now.
No title. No authority. No shield left.
Just him.
Vivan exhaled shakily.
For a moment, he stayed where he was, hands on the edge of the desk, head lowered like if he moved too fast, everything would collapse at once.
Then he stood.
Slowly.
He opened the drawer.
The first thing his fingers brushed against was the pen.
The pen he had signed his very first deal with.
Its body was scratched, the gold coating worn off near the grip. The ink barely flowed anymore. He didn't remember the deal itself just the night before it. Coffee gone cold. Tie loosened. His father watching from the other side of the room, saying nothing... trusting everything.
Vivan swallowed and placed it in the box.
Next came the leather-bound planner.
Heavy. Overfilled.
Pages mapped months into the future meetings, expansions, negotiations, plans that would now happen without his name at the head of the table.
His chest tightened.
He flipped through it once, then shut it abruptly, as if afraid the future might look back at him. His eyes burned. He wiped them roughly with his sleeve and dropped the planner into the box.
From the back of the drawer, his fingers found the watch.
Vinod had gifted it to him the day he officially became CEO.
"You'll need this," his father had said.
Vivan hadn't worn it in years.
Still, it had never left the drawer.
He stared at it for a long moment... then closed his fist around it and placed it carefully inside.
Then came his ID card.
The photo looked younger. Sharper. Hopeful.
He unclipped it slowly, fingers lingering longer than necessary before placing it on top of everything else.
Last almost forgotten, a framed newspaper clipping.
"Youngest CEO of Singhania industries."
A faint, fleeting smile touched his lips.
For a second, he remembered believing he could have everything.
He placed the frame into the box and closed the flaps.
A small cardboard box.
That was it.
Years of ambition.
Pride.
Proof.
Outside the cabin, Aarvi noticed it.
The digital panel near the executive wing refreshed.
Where Vivan Singhania - CEO usually appeared-
There was nothing.
Her steps slowed.
Someone nearby said casually, almost carelessly, "Good thing Vivan sir stepped down. Scandals ruin everyone around them."
Aarvi froze.
Her heart skipped-not from anger, not from fear-but from confusion.
Why would he do that?
Without thinking, she turned and walked straight to his cabin.
No knock.
She pushed the door open.
And there he was.
Standing beside the desk.
Holding a cardboard box.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Her eyes went from the box... to his face.
Something was wrong.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just... heavy.
"Why are you resigning?" she asked.
Vivan blinked once.
Then, calmly, almost detached,
"You shouldn't care about that."
Something snapped.
Aarvi stepped forward, took the box from his hands, and placed it firmly on the desk.
"No," she said. "You don't get to decide that."
Her voice didn't shake.
Her eyes did.
"Tell me the reason, Vivan."
He looked at the box.
At the watch barely visible through the gap.
At the planner.
At the life he had just folded shut.
Then he smiled.
A practiced smile.
A CEO smile.
"Because..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...the company is working on a project."
Aarvi didn't interrupt.
"For the sake of that project," he continued evenly, "I'm stepping down temporarily. Ved will handle things. He needs the exposure. Once it's completed, I'll come back."
Confident.
Smooth.
Too smooth.
Aarvi studied his face.
She nodded but her brows knit together slightly.
"You didn't tell me before."
"It wasn't necessary," he replied instantly.
Another pause.
She searched his eyes looking for urgency, fear, frustration.
Found none.
Just distance.
"Okay," she said finally.
But her voice lacked conviction.
As she turned to leave, she stopped at the door.
"You're lying," she said softly, without looking back.
Vivan's breath hitched.
She didn't wait for an answer.
Meanwhile, outside the office floor, Vinod stood before the employees.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
"I don't want to hear a single whisper about the news spreading," he said.
"No news channels. No radio. No social media. No gossip-during working hours or otherwise."
His gaze swept across the room.
"If I hear anyone breaking this rule," he continued evenly, "be ready to face consequences."
The resignation letter rested in his hand.
___
Vivan closed the carton box.
The sound felt louder than it should have.
Final.
He straightened, holding it close to his chest-not heavy with weight, but with years.
Outside the glass walls of the cabin, movement slowed. People pretended not to look. Some did anyway.
He took one last glance around.
The desk where decisions were made. The chair that once held power. The glass wall that once reflected authority.
Now-just glass.
He stepped out.
The corridor felt different.
Earlier, people used to move aside instinctively. Greetings followed him. Respect walked before him.
Now- Eyes dropped. Whispers paused. Silence stretched.
His nameplate was already gone.
Just a clean, empty panel where CEO - Vivan Singhania once stood.
Aarvi stood near the reception, files clutched to her chest.
She noticed him instantly.
Their eyes met.
For a second, the world narrowed to just them.
He stopped.
Gave her a small smile-not confident, not proud- Reassuring.
As if saying: It's temporary. Trust me.
She swallowed and nodded.
Not because she believed it completely- But because she wanted to.
Security stepped forward.
"Sir... your access card."
Vivan paused.
Reached into his pocket. Pulled it out.
The card that once opened every door.
He placed it gently in the guard's hand.
The beep of deactivation echoed softly.
Too softly. Too cruelly.
He adjusted his grip on the box and walked toward the exit.
The glass doors slid open.
Sunlight hit his face.
For the first time in years, he walked out of Singhania Group-
Not as CEO. Not as heir. Just as Vivan.
Behind him, the doors closed.
Inside, life resumed.
Outside, something ended.