The compliment hurt more than an insult.
"You think I'm a slut?" I whispered, clenching my teeth to keep my jaw from shaking. "Is that all I am to you?"
"I didn't have to assume anything; you showed me," he said, his jaw tight. "You married me for the bank account, didn't you? You destroyed my future just to secure your own. You cried a few tears for your family and walked right into my bed." He pressed his face closer until our noses touched, his eyes searching mine for a truth I couldn't tell him. "Don't play the victim now. Iknow women like you. You'll stoop to any depth for a big enough payout."
A single tear escaped and slid down my cheek.
"Aww..." He reached out, his thumb catching the tear, but there was no tenderness in the touch. "Are you feeling bad now? You’re a magnificent actress, Kavya. Truly. It almost hurts to see you cry, but then I remember..." He abruptly pushed himself away from me, the sudden coldness worse than his touch. "None of this is real. You aren't real. You’re just a manipulative, gold-digging bitch."
I flinched as if he’d slapped me hard on my face.
"Don't think that because I slept with you, there’s 'us,'" he continued, pacing the room like a caged animal. "You’re just one of many. You're no one. No fucking one."
I forced a small, sad smile onto my face, though I felt like I was dying inside.
"Thank you for the clarification. But last night... It was the best night of my life, Saurav. It might have been a transaction for you, but for me, it was everything. Yes, I trapped you. But what I feel for you isn't an act. I'm using your money because I'm helpless, not because I'm greedy."
I couldn't stay in that room a second longer. The air was too thin. I scrambled out of bed, grabbing a robe and rushing past him. I didn't stop until I was downstairs and out in the backyard, the biting night air a relief against my heated skin.
I walked toward the remains of the evening's bonfire, sitting on the cold stone edge and hugging my knees to my chest.
"I won't cry for him," I whispered into the dark. "Never again."
I wiped my eyes angrily and grabbed a stray piece of timber, tossing it into the glowing embers. I watched as the fire crackled back to life, the orange flames dancing in the reflection of my tears.
_________
Chapter 22
KAVYA
It had been four months since Saurav left for duty, and if I said I didn't miss his calls, I’d be lying. The problem was, he didn't exactly call me. Once a week, his name would flash on Mr. Chauhan’s phone. The conversations were clinical, lasting less than sixty seconds barely enough time to confirm he was still breathing. Currently he was posted in Thiruvananthapuram.
Rajasthan to Kerala. He couldn’t have picked a spot further away if he’d tried. Maybe that was the point.
Lately, it felt like my feelings for Saurav were evaporating, like water on a hot Jaipur sidewalk. I had fallen for a version of a man who no longer existed. In his place was someone cold, distant, and if I were being honest, a bit cruel. I tried to maintain my independence, but my interior design business had hit a brick wall. The moment I started using the "Chauhan" surname, the orders stopped. It was as if the name itself carried a "Do Not Touch" sign that terrified every vendor in the city.
Desperate and drowning in boredom, I finally accepted a job offer from my father-in-law: his personal assistant.
On paper, it was a dream. Seventy-five thousand rupees a month just to shadow him, take notes, and manage his schedule? People would kill for that. If Saurav ever found out, he’d probably explode with "Chauhan Pride" or whatever ego-driven fuel he was running on these days, but I did it for Mr. Chauhan.
His health was a crumbling sandcastle. Between the diabetes and his fading memory, he needed a watchdog, not just an assistant. Most days, I wasn't "reminding" him to take his pills; I was practically performing a wrestling maneuver to get him to swallow them. But I loved the time we spent together. He was cheerful, kind, and positive, he was the only piece of the "Old Saurav" I had left.
Then came the meeting with the Sisodiyas.
I spent the entire car ride crossing my fingers, praying to every deity in the index that it wouldn't be that Abhiraj Sisodiya. Apparently, the gods were busy that morning.
"I’m glad to have you here, Chauhan," Abhiraj said, his voice like velvet over gravel. He shook my father-in-law’s hand before his eyes slid to me, a predatory glint in them. "And thanks for bringing your lovely daughter-in-law."
"She’s my PA now," Mr. Chauhan chuckled, oblivious to the lightning bolts I was shooting from my eyes at Abhiraj Sisodiya. He was the same man who had assaulted me at the party and pinned the blame on my father-in-law.
I waited for Abhiraj’s name to come up that night, ready to confront the truth in front of Mr. Chauhan. I had a mental script prepared: how he’d cornered me, how he’d behaved like a common thug. But disappointment washed over me when my father-in-law remained silent and simply took a seat.
Seeing my expression Abhiraj smirked and took his seat next to Mr. Chauhan. I glared at him with enough heat to melt lead. He didn't flinch. In fact, he looked amused, as if my death-stares were actually blowing him kisses.
"I assumed exactly the same," Abhiraj said, leaning back as if he’d just read my mind like a morning newspaper. "Please, have a seat, Ma’am."
The meeting began, and I prepared myself to be bored as I had never been in such kind of meetings before. But instead, I was shocked. Abhiraj presented his new project: a massive shopping complex near a village in Udaipur. But it wasn't just any mall. It was entirely reserved for women. Shops, parlors, art galleries, all owned and operated by women to foster financial independence.