The next morning was a nightmare of politeness. I made breakfast with numb hands. Saurav ate in silence, his face a mask of indifference. When he finished, he gave me a small, empty smile and picked up his bags.
"Goodbye, Kavya," he said.
I watched from the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. I didn't cry anymore. I was empty.
I quickly gathered my remaining bags and called Abhiraj. He arrived thirty minutes later, his expression grim as he helped me load my things into his car.
"Did you tell him you're leaving for good?" Abhiraj asked as we drove toward the airport.
I shook my head, staring out at the passing trees. "No. And guess what? He asked for a divorce this morning."
"That bastard," Abhiraj hissed, gripping the steering wheel. He stayed silent for a long time before asking softly, "Why did you marry him, Kavya? Truly?"
"Because I loved him," I whispered. It was the only truth I had left.
I didn't tell Abhiraj the full story of the secrets or the lies. Saurav was the only one who had the right to listen to my story first. Now, I was going to a place where no one knew my name.
"Will you come to Switzerland to visit me?" I asked, trying to find a spark of my old self.
Abhiraj managed a weak wink. "Twice a week if I have to."
When we reached the terminal, I pulled him into a tight hug. "You’ve been a great friend, Abhiraj. Thank you."
"Saurav is a fool," Abhiraj murmured into my hair. "He just lost the most precious thing in his life."
"Maybe," I whispered.
I pulled away, picked up my suitcase, and walked toward the gates. I didn't look back. I had a ticket to a new life, and for the first time, I was flying alone.
_______
Chapter 44
SAURAV
I was spiraling. My head was spinning so fast I couldn't think straight. Her three words,I love you, were still ringing in my ears like a melody I didn't deserve to hear. I didn't know how to handle it. I felt a confusing mix of heat and ice in my chest.
Love. That was the last thing I ever expected from her. Yes, I cared about Kavya. I even liked her. But love? Love was a heavy word, and I wasn't sure I knew how to carry it.
I was going to the airport, my hands clutching my phone, but my mind was still back at the villa. I had been so cruel to her this morning. She only wanted to celebrate my birthday, and I had thrown her kindness back in her face. My heart ached when I remembered the look in her eyes, the way her soul seemed to shatter when I asked for a divorce. I hadn't just hurt her; I had broken her.
When the driver pulled up to the airport curb, I stepped out slowly. The bustling crowds and the smell of jet fuel felt hollow. All I could see was her crying face. I balled my hands into fists, trying to shake the image away, but I couldn't. I was a coward if I left now.
"Take me back," I snapped, sliding back into the car. "Drive back to the Chauhan villa. Now."
The driver didn't ask questions. He just pulled back into traffic. I sat in the backseat, tapping my foot manically. My chest felt tight with desperation. I didn't care about my schedule anymore; I would take a flight tomorrow morning. I just needed to see her. I needed to see her smile again, just once, to know she was okay.
When the car finally stopped in front of the villa, a strange silence hung over the house. I stepped out and walked toward the door. I found myself praying that Kavya would open the door the way she always did with that quiet, hopeful look on her face.
I rang the bell. No answer.
I waited, my heart hammering against my ribs. Still nothing. I pulled out my spare key and unlocked the door. The house felt cold and empty.
My breath caught when I stepped inside. The silence was deafening. I ran to her room, but my stomach dropped the moment I opened the door. It was stripped bare. Her clothes were gone. Her perfume was gone. Even herghungroos, the bells that made music whenever she danced, were missing.
Then, I saw it. A small piece of paper sitting on the vanity.
'If you want a divorce, I will give it to you. But I don’t need your money, Saurav. You spent fifty-five lakh on me. I have returned twenty-five lakh to your account. I will find a way to pay the rest. Goodbye, handsome.’