Page 135 of Lawfully Yours
Yes, it was wildly unprofessional. He had missed two client meetings, ignored half a dozen messages from associates, and left a meeting full of waiting juniors without so much as a text and gone completely off the grid. But none of that mattered in the moment. He simply couldn’t sit in that office and breathe the same air as the woman who had crossed every boundary, pushed every limit of his patience and love today.
Today, Arundhati had tested the last thread of his damn humanity.
Now, hours later, Kushal sat at the bar counter of an old bar tucked in the quieter end of the city. It wasn’t very fancy, but it served its purpose…dark enough to disappear into, quiet enough for thoughts to be loud.
The music had been turned low long ago. He’d driven aimlessly through the city for nearly two hours before landing here, hoping the alcohol would wash away the wreckage of the day. He hadn’t planned to drink this much. But somewhere between the first glass and the fifth, it became clear that no amount of liquor was going to help him forget what had unfolded between him and Arundhati. It was all still there. Her voice still echoed in his head. Her eyes still haunted him. Her defiance still gripped his chest like a fist.
He downed another drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache, and slammed the glass onto the counter with a sharp thud.
“Refill,” he muttered.
The bartender gave him a long, measured look, then sighed. “Sorry, sir, we’re closing down.”
Kushal didn’t even look at him. “Refill,” he repeated.
But the bartender stood his ground.
“Sir, you’ve had enough. I understand you’re going through something, but we have rules. I can’t serve you more. And if you’ll allow a man-to-man word of advice…no grief is worth drinking yourself to the ground over.”
That struck a nerve.
Kushal pushed off the barstool, steadying himself with one hand. He could still stand, barely. But the fury in his voice was clear.
“No grief is worththismuch drinking, huh?” he repeated, bitterly. His eyes, slightly bloodshot, bore into the bartender. “Do you even know what I’m grieving?”
The bartender said nothing, just gave a professional shrug.
Kushal leaned in closer. “I’m divorcing. You know what that’s like?” he laughed hollowly.
The bartender exhaled slowly, nodding, almost sympathetic.
But Kushal wasn’t finished. He let out a bitter laugh this time, his tone raw. “Takemyadvice, man to man. No grief cuts deeper than letting go of the woman you love…just because her ego stands taller than you, taller than your marriage, taller than the damn love you have for her.”
He was about to stumble when a hand caught his arm.
“Kushal?”
Kushal turned, blinking through his haze, and stared at the man now holding him up.
“Rajveer?”
It was Rajveer Chopra, his past client and a friend he hadn’t expected to see tonight, especially not here. Rajveer and his wife, Ananya, had run into Kushal and Arundhati in Dalhousie just a few days ago.
Rajveer looked stunned at Kushal’s state. “What the hell, man? What are you doing here? And why the hell are you this drunk?”
Kushal just grinned, his face tired, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry. I might be a little drunk.”
“Alittle?” Rajveer snapped. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Let me drop you home.”
Kushal shook his head, fumbling for his phone. “No thanks. Got my car. Parked right outside.”
Rajveer sighed. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way I’m letting you drive like this. Not happening.”
Kushal tried to protest, but Rajveer had already wrapped one arm firmly around his shoulders, guiding him out of the bar like a bouncer escorting a belligerent celebrity.
“Come on,” Rajveer muttered. “You’re not drinking yourself to hell tonight, buddy. Not on my watch.”
And Kushal, who was too tired, too broken, and too drunk to fight it, let himself be led into the night.
