Page 145 of Mrs. Rathore

“You gave me divorce papers,” I said, turning to my suitcase. “You made your choice. Let me make mine.”

“Avni, you gave them to me first.”

“Six months ago! I was hurting and confused. I didn’t mean it.” I turned to him, my eyes burning with pain. “But you waited for the perfect moment to give them back, didn’t you? When I was at my lowest. You knew I was falling apart, and you still pushed.”

“I didn’t push,” he said coldly. “You pulled away first.”

I laughed bitterly, brushing past him and zipping my suitcase shut. “Is this how you want to end things? You want me to believe we both gave up?” I looked at him, voice trembling. “You could’ve fought for me. For us.”

Aryan’s voice was low and tight. “I have fought for you. Every day, but I was fighting alone. I tried to persuade you… I brought you here and gave you everything, but you…” He stopped mid-sentence, clenching his jaw.

I watched him as heavy and suffocating silence fell between us.

He stepped toward me, but I stepped back. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t make this harder, please.”

A car horn honked outside. Prashant.

“I have to go,” I said, grabbing my suitcase. He moved to take my suitcase, but I shook my head. “Don’t act like you really care.”

“I do care,” Aryan said calmly. His strange calmness was driving me nuts.

I walked past him, and this time he didn’t try to stop me. But when I reached the door, I paused. I looked at my husband. He stood like a statue, emotionless, frozen, just staring.

I held back my tears, turned away, and left.

Outside, Prashant greeted me with a warm smile that faded the moment he saw my face.

I sat silently in the passenger seat, my suitcase in the back. As we drove away, I looked back through the window.

Aryan was still standing at the door of our home, watching me leave.

I hurt him. He hurt me. And now we were even. _____

Chapter 59

ARYAN

I squinted at the fierce ray of sunlight slanting through the window. Stretching my arms, I yawned and glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning. I sat upright against the headboard. I had never slept this long.

Why didn’t Avni wake me up?

“Avni…” I called out, strolling out of the room and walking straight to the kitchen. But it was empty.

She usually made tea and breakfast in the morning. The house would smell like her spices and something warm, something comforting. But now, the kitchen was as clean as glass. Everything was in its place, untouched, and too quiet. There was no sign of life.

“Avni…” I groaned, wincing as a sharp pain throbbed in my head.

I walked to our room where she had been sleeping. The moment I opened the door, realisation hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was gone.

She had left last night.

I turned my head slowly toward the table in the living room. An empty bottle of alcohol stood there beside a glass. My heartclenched painfully when my eyes landed on the divorce papers resting beside them.

Swallowing hard, I pushed open the door to our room. That was the room I hadn’t stepped into for two weeks. It felt colder than I remembered. Her clothes were gone. Her accessories, gone. Even her toiletries had disappeared.

I walked over to the vanity and picked up the small bottle of perfume she had left behind, her lipstick and her face serum. The only pieces of her that remained.

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