Chapter 9
Reeva
A soft smile curves my lips as I run my fingers over the delicate lavender border.
It is exactly the kind of saree Dadiji would choose for herself.
Elegant, timeless, and beautiful. The perfect birthday gift.
I should have bought it yesterday, but with everything happening, I simply couldn’t find the time.
“This piece is from our latest Banarasi collection, ma’am,” the saleswoman explains as she carefully unfolds the saree. “It is crafted from pure silk and is entirely handwoven. The intricate zari work on the pallu alone took our artisans nearly three months to complete.”
I give the saree one final glance before looking up. “I’ll take it.”
“Of course, ma’am.” She offers me a courteous smile before carrying it towards the wrapping counter to have it packed.
I wander through the boutique, my gaze drifting over the neatly arranged racks of designer sarees, but my thoughts keep returning to yesterday.
Seeing Shaurya again made it difficult to breathe. But it was Dadiji’s special day, and I refused to let our broken marriage steal even a moment of her happiness. So I remained polite and pretended his presence wasn’t tearing me apart.
When Shaurya noticed I wasn’t eating and asked whether I was unwell, I came dangerously close to panicking. For one terrifying moment, I thought he had discovered the truth. Thankfully, he was concerned rather than suspicious, and when I asked him to let the matter go, he did.
I was lucky yesterday, but I know I cannot keep my pregnancy hidden from him forever. I need to protect this secret until our divorce is final because the moment Shaurya learns that I am carrying his child, I know he will never let me walk away.
I stop beside a display of salwar suits as a wave of nausea rolls through me. It is milder than it was this morning, but it still leaves my stomach painfully unsettled. I press a hand instinctively against my abdomen and draw in slow, measured breaths, waiting for the discomfort to pass.
“Reeva?”
The voice behind me freezes every muscle in my body.
For one breathless second, I convince myself that I imagined it. But as I quickly lower my hand from my stomach and turn around, that fragile hope shatters.
Shaurya’s mother stands in front of me, with unmistakable disdain etched across her face.
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. Of all the boutiques in Mumbai, of all the moments our paths could have crossed, it had to be here. It had to be now.
And judging by the look on her face, this encounter is not going to end with a polite greeting. It is about to turn ugly.
“Namaste, Maa,” I say softly, my manners remaining intact despite everything she and her son have done to hurt me.
She doesn’t acknowledge my greeting. Instead, her voice turns cold. “So, are you happy now that you have finally gained your freedom from my son?”
Really? She is blaming me?
A hundred responses rush to the tip of my tongue, but I swallow every one of them and force myself to remain calm.
I have no desire to argue with her in the middle of the boutique, with employees and customers close enough to hear us, especially when my emotions are still fragile enough to splinter beneath the slightest pressure.
“I was just leaving.” I attempt to step around her, but she moves directly into my path, blocking my way.
At that moment, the sales assistant returns.
“Ma’am, your purchase is ready. You may complete the payment at the billing counter whenever you’re ready.”
I offer her a small nod. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She smiles politely before walking away, leaving me alone once again with the woman who is clearly determined to take all her frustration out on me.
“Have you no shame?” she asks, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re out shopping as though nothing has happened after demanding a divorce from my son.”
“I came here to buy a gift for Dadiji,” I reply steadily. “My relationship with your son may have ended, but my love and respect for her haven’t.”
“You walked out of our home, yet you continue finding excuses to remain tied to the people inside it. Is this your way of keeping one foot firmly planted in the Rajvansh family?”
I become painfully aware of the curious eyes turning towards us, but Shaurya’s mother doesn’t seem to care. If anything, the growing attention only emboldens her.
I shake my head and draw in a slow breath. “I have no such intention.”
“You clearly do,” she snaps. “Why else would you keep playing with my mother-in-law’s emotions, allowing her to believe you still care?”
“I have never tried to deceive anyone,” I say, my voice calm despite the anger simmering beneath it.
“That is something your son has always been far better at. So please don’t twist my love for Dadiji into another conspiracy simply because you refuse to believe that some relationships can exist without an agenda. ”
“How dare you paint us as villains?” she sneers. “My son did what he had to do to honour the promise he made to his father.”
“Even if keeping that promise meant destroying me?” I ask, my composure finally beginning to crack.
“How dramatic can you be?” she scoffs. “Must you keep playing the wounded victim simply to gain everyone’s sympathy?” She shakes her head dismissively.
“Sympathy?” My lips twist bitterly. “That’s rich coming from you.
But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that you have so little understanding of human emotion.
For someone who demands loyalty and sacrifice in the name of family, you have shown remarkably little compassion for the woman whose trust your son destroyed. ”
“Before you dare to question our character, take a long, hard look at the legacy you come from.” She raises a finger and points it directly at me. “Never forget who you are, Reeva. You are Arvind Singhania’s daughter. The daughter of a man who had no integrity.”
“You’re right. I am Arvind Singhania’s daughter, but I am not responsible for my father’s choices. Yet neither you nor Shaurya hesitated to punish me for decisions I never made. Not once did either of you try to see me for who I truly am.”
“There you go again, making yourself the victim,” she snaps.
“But your actions have already shown me exactly who you are. You walked out of your marriage and abandoned your husband. And before you claim that returning Rajmahal was some great favour to our family, just remember this. You didn’t return it out of love or respect.
You used it to purchase your freedom from my son. ”
My pulse stutters. There is no point in trying to make her understand my pain, and the last thing I need is to continue this argument.
Stress is not good for the baby, and right now, protecting my child matters far more than winning a battle with a woman who has already decided not to understand me.
“Can we not do this?” I ask, exhaustion seeping into my voice. “Can we please just leave it?”
“Why?” she challenges. “Because the truth is too uncomfortable for you to hear?”
My throat tightens. I could answer. I could tell her this isn’t about being unable to face the truth.
It is about refusing to let her turn my pain into a public spectacle.
But I know defending myself will only give her more ammunition to humiliate me, something she has always seemed to take cruel satisfaction in.
“I don’t wish to argue with you.” I attempt to step around her, but she catches my wrist.
“You’re not leaving until you have heard everything I have to say,” she declares.
My gaze drops to the fingers wrapped around my wrist before slowly lifting to meet hers. “Please let go of me.”
After a long, tense moment, her grip loosens, and her hand falls away. I instinctively rub my wrist before folding my arms protectively across my chest.
“You want to create a scene? Fine. Have it your way.” My voice remains level, though every word is sharpened by pain.
“Tell me, what exactly do you have left to say to me? And why does my divorce bother you so much? You always wanted me out of the Rajvansh mansion. You could barely tolerate the sight of me because of whose daughter I am. So why all this outrage now?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You should be happy. You got exactly what you wanted. I am gone, and Rajmahal is finally back where you always believed it belonged.”
“Yes, I am happy that you are out of my son’s life,” she replies coldly. “But I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Reeva. Don’t ever think about finding your way back into it.”
I look directly into her eyes. “You can relax. I won’t make that mistake again.” The words scrape against my throat, but I refuse to let the pain show.
A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. “Good. Because it won’t be long before I find my son a wife who is actually worthy of him and of bearing the Rajvansh name.”
“Enough.”
The single word cuts through the tension, and my breath catches as I look up to find Shaurya striding towards us.
He stops beside me, close enough that only a few inches separate our shoulders. His gaze remains fixed on his mother, his expression turning dangerously hard.
“Enough, Mom.”
She stares at him in disbelief. “Shaurya, you are speaking to your mother.”
“And you are publicly humiliating my wife.”
Her eyes narrow. “You signed the divorce papers.”
“Yes, I signed them,” he replies coldly. “But until the court grants us a divorce, Reeva is still my wife. And I will not allow anyone, including you, to disrespect her.”
Something traitorous flutters inside my chest, but I know better than to place any faith in his words. I don’t know why he is defending me now, and I no longer have the strength to decipher another one of his contradictions.
“I don’t care what the court has to say,” his mother lashes out. “In my eyes, she stopped being your wife the moment she demanded a divorce. She is nothing to this family now, and I will replace her with a woman who is actually worthy of you and the Rajvansh name.”
“As long as Reeva is legally my wife, there will be no other woman. Not in my life, not in my home, and certainly not in her place.” His voice turns lethally quiet. “This is not open for discussion, Mom. And you will never speak of replacing her again.”
His words steal the strength from my knees. I cannot remain here any longer, not while every sentence he speaks continues to wreak havoc on the emotions I am desperately trying to bury. I am terrified that the fragile composure I have been clinging to will finally shatter.
“I… I need to leave,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Without waiting for either of them to respond, I turn towards the billing counter. With trembling fingers, I complete the payment, collect Dadiji’s neatly wrapped gift, and murmur a distracted thank-you before hurrying away.
The moment I step outside, the afternoon heat crashes into me. I barely manage a few steps before my vision begins to blur.
The noise of traffic fades into a distant hum as a violent wave of dizziness sweeps through me. My stomach churns, and my knees threaten to buckle. I press a trembling hand instinctively over my stomach, struggling to steady my breathing.
But black spots dance across my vision.
I reach blindly for something… anything… to hold on to, but my fingers grasp nothing except empty air.
The ground tilts beneath my feet.
“Reeva!”
The frantic shout barely registers before my legs give way.
Just as I am about to hit the pavement, a pair of familiar arms catches me and pulls me firmly against a broad chest. My head falls against him as the world spins, and even through the haze, I recognise the heartbeat thundering beneath my cheek.
Shaurya.
Then everything goes dark.