— Saurav Chauhan
The paper crumpled in my fist, the edges digging into my palm. I felt the air leave my lungs as if he had physically struck me. A hot, stinging blur of tears filled my eyes. I sank onto the edge of the bed, covering my mouth to stifle a sob that felt like it was tearing my throat open.
Service. The word was a brand. Last night, I had allowed myself to believe in a thaw that he had finally looked at me and seen a wife, not an enemy. I thought he had forgiven me. Instead,he had just been appraisal shopping. I was nothing more than a high-end transaction.
The cab ride back to the villa was a blur of passing trees and suppressed rage. When I walked through the front doors, the clinking of silverware echoed from the dining room. Mr. Chauhan and Tanya were having breakfast. But the chair at the head of the table, Saurav’s chair, was empty.
“You’re back!” Mr. Chauhan stood abruptly, a look of genuine relief crossing his face. “Come, sit. Let’s have breakfast.”
“Where’s Saurav?” I asked, my voice strained as I scanned the room for a shadow of him.
“Urgent work. He’ll be back by evening,” Mr. Chauhan said, his smile warm and paternal. He reached out, sliding a plate of sandwiches and a glass of orange juice toward me. “So... how was last night?”
My hand froze over the plate. I looked at him, searching for any sign of a double meaning, but his eyes were clear, full of a kindness that felt almost cruel given the circumstances. I couldn't tell if he was my greatest ally or an accidental architect of my misery. But his smile was real. His love felt pure.
“It was perfect,” I lied, the words tasting like ash. I forced a brittle, plastered smile onto my face, ignoring the way my soul felt like it was being ground into the floorboards. “We had a lot of fun.”
“Really?” Tanya’s voice cut through the air, dripping with venom. She didn't look up from her salad, her fork moving with clinical precision. “That’s strange. I didn’t see much 'fun' onSaurav’s face when he trudged in here at dawn... having left his wife alone in a deserted cottage while she was still sleeping.”
I didn't hesitate. “He wanted me to come with him, but I was exhausted. I told him I’d follow in a few hours.”
Tanya rolled her eyes, her jaw working rhythmically as she chewed a leaf of spinach like it was an insult. She wasn't buying it, but she didn't have the leverage to push further, not with Mr. Chauhan watching.
“I have an announcement,” Mr. Chauhan said, sipping his soup and beaming at me. “Tonight, I’m throwing a party. Happy Birthday, Kavya.”
The surprise was genuine this time. “Thank you... but how did you know?”
“Rhea told me. She and Avni are coming over this evening.”
The mention of my friends brought a small, true spark of warmth to my chest. I had missed Avni’s call during the frantic drive back, too consumed by Saurav’s cruelty to speak.
“Eat up, child,” Mr. Chauhan urged, adjusting his tie as he prepared for the day. “After breakfast, I’ll show you the themes I’ve picked out. My team is on standby to arrange everything exactly as you want it.”
I glanced at Tanya’s sour expression, then back to the man who was treating me more like a daughter than my own father ever had. “You don’t have to do all this, Dad.”
“You are my child now,” he insisted, his voice firm yet tender. “And I intend to make this day special. Now, be quick, we have a lot of celebrating to do.”
I nodded, picking up a sandwich I knew I couldn't swallow. Outside, the sun was shining, and a party was being planned, but inside, I could still feel the cold weight of the golden card in my purse, a reminder of the price Saurav had placed on my heart.
________
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mr. Chauhan led me toward the glass doors of the backyard. My chest remained tight, the phantom weight of Saurav’s golden card sitting like lead in my purse. But when the doors slid open, my breath caught for an entirely different reason.
The backyard had been transformed into a bohemian sanctuary, looking as if it had been plucked straight from a dream.
“Wow,” I whispered, stepping onto the grass. The cool evening air brushed my cheeks, yet the scene was bathed in a warmth that felt almost protective. Above us, strings of golden globe lights crisscrossed the darkness, their amber glow reflecting off the villa’s dark windows like low-hanging stars. They cast a gentle light over a long, rustic table crafted from pale wooden pallets. In place of stiff chairs, long white mattresses lined the grass, scattered with plush cushions in pops of mustard yellow, olive green, and delicate florals.
It was beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Mr. Chauhan asked softly, standing beside me.
I walked toward the table, my fingers brushing the burlap runner. Baskets of dried pampas grass and white wildflowers were tucked at intervals, their textures soft and earthy. At the far end, a tall wooden panel stood draped in hundreds of tiny fairy lights, shimmering like a wall of diamonds against the dark garden hedge.
"It’s perfect, Dad," I said, unable to take my eyes off the setup. Looking at the inviting cushions, I allowed myself a fleeting second to imagine sitting here with a husband who actually loved me, someone who would laugh with me under these lights instead of buying my silence with a golden card. The beauty of it felt like a bandage on a deep wound; it didn't heal the pain, but it made the evening feel a little less dark.
“Oh my goodness!” Rhea’s high-pitched voice broke my reverie as I turned around. “Did you steal this idea from my dreams, Uncle?”
Mr. Chauhan laughed. “Of course, but I’ve only taken it on lease,” he winked, before moving toward his sister. Rhea’s mother.