Chapter 8
Shaurya
I knew our marriage was hanging by a thread. I knew I had shattered my wife. But divorce? I wasn’t ready for that. Not even close.
I had refused to sign at first, clinging selfishly to the last thread binding her to me.
But then I looked at my wife and saw how desperately she wanted to be free.
My guilt reminded me that Reeva deserved better than a husband who had built their marriage on lies.
If leaving me was the only way she could heal, then I had no right to force her to remain in a relationship that brought her nothing but pain.
Even though she gave me exactly what I had always wanted in return, I feel no sense of victory. Instead, it feels as though I traded away a piece of my soul to reclaim Rajmahal.
The vibration of my phone pulls me from my thoughts. I close my laptop and glance at the screen to find Dadiji’s name flashing across it.
Damn.
I have been in my office since last night, burying myself in work in a futile attempt to outrun the thoughts that refuse to leave me. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that today is her birthday, and I haven’t even wished her.
“Happy birthday, Dadiji,” I say, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “I am sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately,” she replies gently. “Don’t feel guilty, beta. Hearing your voice is all that matters to me.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” I push back my chair and rise to my feet. “I’ll be home within an hour. Get ready. We’re going out for lunch. And before you argue, I am not taking no for an answer. It’s my treat for my favourite person.”
“I am sorry, beta, but we’ll have to save that lunch for another day. I am already on my way to the Krishna temple.” She pauses before adding, “I’ve asked Reeva to meet me there, and I don’t want to cancel our plans.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Dadiji, I don’t think—”
She cuts me off before I can finish.
“Don’t,” she says, a rare note of steel entering her usually gentle voice.
“Don’t tell me that meeting her is a bad idea simply because the two of you signed divorce papers.
” A heavy sigh escapes her. “Those papers may have changed everything between you, beta, but they did not erase the love I have for that girl. Reeva didn’t stop being my granddaughter simply because your marriage fell apart. ”
A knot tightens painfully in my chest. Before pride can stop me, the question slips out.
“Can I come?”
“Are you sure, beta? You don’t have to come if seeing her will make things more difficult for either of you.”
I almost laugh. Of course she wants me there. The only reason she mentioned Reeva was because she knew exactly how I would react.
I release a quiet breath. “I’ll come.”
“If that’s what you want,” she replies, unable to hide the smile in her voice. “I’ll be very happy to have you there.”
I shake my head despite myself. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
Her soft chuckle drifts through the phone. “Maybe.”
“I’ll see you at the temple.”
“I’ll be waiting, beta.”
After the call ends, my gaze drifts to the photograph on my desk, the one Reeva shattered in anger and I painstakingly restored. My thumb brushes over her smiling face beneath the new pane of glass.
It has been a week since I signed those divorce papers, and today, I am finally going to see her again.
Reason tells me I should stay away. She asked for peace, and I owe her at least that much.
But I cannot ignore the flicker of anticipation rising in my chest. Not because I believe seeing me will change anything.
Not because I expect her to forgive me. Simply because, for a few precious moments, I will get to see the woman who still owns a part of me, even if I no longer have the right to call her mine.
I grab my keys, leave the office, and head straight to my car.
Thirty minutes later, I pull into the temple parking lot. The ancient sandstone structure rises majestically against the afternoon sky, its intricately carved pillars and soaring shikhara gleaming beneath the sunlight.
The moment I step out of the car, my gaze instinctively searches the entrance. Reeva hasn’t arrived yet. Instead, I spot Dadiji waiting near the tulsi courtyard, a warm smile spreading across her face as I approach.
When I reach her, I bend to touch her feet. “Happy birthday, Dadiji.”
She rests her hand gently on my head. “May God fill your life with every happiness, beta.”
A humourless laugh escapes me as I straighten. “I don’t think even God can do that anymore.”
She cups my cheek. “Don’t lose hope so easily, beta. Sometimes the people we believe we have lost forever aren’t truly gone. They are simply waiting for us to become worthy enough to earn our way back to them.”
Before I can reply, the soft hum of an approaching car draws my attention.
I turn just as a white sedan pulls into the parking lot.
Every muscle in my body locks when the driver’s door opens and Reeva steps out.
She smooths the creases from her blue cotton salwar suit before tucking a loose strand of chestnut-brown hair behind her ear.
She is beautiful. She always will be.
But something about her has changed. She looks thinner, the gentle softness that once rounded her cheeks gone, leaving her heartbreakingly fragile. Even from this distance, before she notices me, I can see how deeply the past few days have affected her.
A fist closes around my heart as the truth strikes with brutal clarity. This is what I have done to her.
Her gaze drifts towards the temple entrance, and when it settles on Dadiji, a warm smile blooms across her lips. But the instant she notices me standing beside her, the smile falters. She swallows hard, carefully masks her emotions, and begins walking towards us.
Dadiji opens her arms, and Reeva steps straight into her embrace.
“My child… I’ve missed you so much,” Dadiji murmurs, gently stroking her hair.
“I’ve missed you too,” Reeva whispers, burying her face against Dadiji’s shoulder.
I stand there, unable to look away. For one fleeting moment, it feels as though nothing has changed, as though Reeva still belongs here, with us.
Eventually, she pulls back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Happy birthday, Dadiji.”
Dadiji smiles tenderly and brushes a tear from Reeva’s cheek. “Thank you, my child.”
Reeva manages a faint smile before drawing a steadying breath. Then, almost reluctantly, her gaze shifts towards me.
“Hi.”
I know she is acknowledging me only because of Dadiji. It is nothing more than courtesy. Nothing more than respect for the woman standing between us.
I force myself to return the greeting with a small nod. “Hi.”
Dadiji’s gaze lingers on the two of us before she speaks. “Come. Let’s go and pray.”
Reeva and I nod silently and follow her towards the sanctum. We leave our footwear outside before stepping onto the cool white marble floor. Stopping before the idol, we press our palms together in prayer, with Dadiji standing between us.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Reeva’s fingers trembling as she closes her eyes. I cannot help wondering what she is praying for. The courage to move on? Or a future in which she never has to see me again?
Each possibility cuts deeper than the last.
Drawing in a slow breath, I close my eyes and pray for only one thing. Let her be happy. Even if… that happiness no longer includes me.
I open my eyes as the priest approaches with the aarti thali. One by one, we pass our hands over the sacred flame and touch them to our foreheads before accepting the prasad. Then we follow Dadiji back towards the temple courtyard.
“Come, let’s have lunch,” Dadiji declares, gesturing toward the temple’s small dining hall.
Reeva opens her mouth to protest, but Dadiji speaks before she gets the chance.
“It’s my birthday. Surely the two of you can spare thirty minutes for me.”
I almost smile at her stubborn refusal to give up on us.
“I don’t know how many more birthdays God has written in my fate,” Dadiji adds softly. “So please don’t deny an old woman her birthday wish.”
Reeva’s eyes glisten. “Dadiji, please don’t say that.”
“Then grant me this one small wish, beta.” Dadiji reaches for her hand. “Have lunch with me.”
Reeva releases a quiet sigh. “As you wish, Dadiji.”
A satisfied smile spreads across Dadiji’s face. Without another word, the three of us make our way to the temple’s modest dining hall, where volunteers are serving lunch. We settle around a round stone table in the corner, with Dadiji deliberately choosing the seat between us.
Stainless-steel plates are placed before us, and Dadiji keeps the conversation flowing as she chats warmly with Reeva.
I remain mostly silent, unable to stop stealing glances at her.
She barely touches her food. Instead, she breaks the idli into smaller pieces and pushes them around her plate, pretending to eat.
When Dadiji excuses herself to collect the birthday prasad from the temple counter, she leaves us alone at the table. I slide the small bowl of freshly cut fruit towards Reeva.
“You should eat something.”
Reeva lifts her gaze to mine before pushing the bowl back towards the centre of the table. “I am not hungry.”
“You’ve barely touched your food,” I say, unable to hide the concern in my voice.
Her expression hardens. “Thank you for your concern, but my eating habits are no longer your responsibility.”
Instead of allowing her words to end the conversation, I study her more closely. “Are you unwell?”
She startles, her eyes widening. “What?”
“You look pale, and you haven’t eaten anything.”
Her reaction seems far too tense for such a simple question.
“I am fine,” she replies quickly. Reaching for her glass, she takes a sip of water before adding, “I am just tired.”
I don’t believe her. Not for a second. So I try once more.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“I am all right, Shaurya,” she says, her voice firmer this time. “Please… just let it go.”
The plea beneath her words tells me I have pushed as far as she will allow. I know I won’t get anything more from her, so I give a nod and let the silence settle between us.
When Dadiji returns, Reeva rises from her seat. “I should leave, Dadiji.”
Dadiji’s smile fades. “So soon?”
“I have a board meeting.”
It is probably true. Or perhaps saying it is simply easier than admitting she cannot bear to spend another minute sitting across from me.
Dadiji releases a disappointed sigh before pulling Reeva into a warm embrace. “Will you come and see me again soon, my child?”
Reeva closes her eyes briefly. “I will.”
Dadiji draws back and cups her face. “Do you promise?”
A faint smile touches Reeva’s lips. “I promise.”
She bends to touch Dadiji’s feet before straightening. Then, almost reluctantly, her gaze finds mine. She gives me a brief, polite nod. The kind one offers a stranger.
“Goodbye.”
Before I can respond, she turns and walks away, each step carrying her farther away from me.
“Go.” Dadiji’s voice pulls my attention back to her.
I turn. “What?”
“Don’t let her walk away alone. Walk her to the car.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think she would want that.”
Dadiji holds my gaze sternly. “Don’t wait until regret is all you have left, beta. One day, you may wish you had taken every chance God placed in your path to make things right.”
Her words settle heavily in my chest. Without another argument, I nod and hurry after Reeva.
She hears my approaching footsteps and turns. Surprise flickers across her face before her expression shutters, every wall sliding firmly back into place.
“Thank you… for coming today,” I say quietly.
“I came for Dadiji.”
“I know.” A thousand words claw at my throat.
I miss you. I am sorry. Please come home.
But I have forfeited the right to say any of them, so I settle for the only truth I am still allowed to speak. “She was happy to see you.”
“I was happy to see her too,” she says, her voice softening with affection. But the tenderness disappears almost as quickly as it came. “I really should go.”
I nod, even though every part of me wants to ask her to stay.
She holds my gaze for one final second before turning away. I watch her walk the remaining distance to her car, open the driver’s door, and slip inside. A moment later, the engine hums to life.
I remain rooted to the spot until her car disappears from sight, once again unable to do anything but watch my wife drive out of my life.