Page 18 of Lawfully Yours
With a heavy exhale, he headed to the bathroom and turned the shower to its highest temperature. The scalding water ran down his skin, soothing the tension in his muscles, but it didnothing to wash away the thoughts that clung to him like an unwanted presence.
Thoughts of her.
Of the nights she had been here.
Of the handful of times they had returned home together from work, deep in discussions about their cases, arguing over legal strategies as they tossed files onto the coffee table, voices rising, eyes flashing.
Of the times she had leaned over his laptop, pointing at something with that sharp, no-nonsense tone of hers, and he had turned his head at the same time—their breaths tangling, lips mere inches apart, the room suddenly too warm.
Of the kisses they had shared.
Few, but unforgettable.
He slammed the faucet shut and stepped out, grabbing a towel, forcing himself out of his head. By the time he was dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his usual unwinding routine commenced. He walked to the open kitchen, pulling out ingredients—grilled chicken, veggies, pasta. Cooking was never something he had particularly enjoyed, but it was better than ordering takeout or sitting idle with nothing to do.
The scent of sizzling vegetables filled the kitchen as he poured himself a beer, taking slow sips between stirring the pan. When the food was done, he plated it and then carried it to the couch in the living room before reaching for the remote.
The TV flickered to life, flashing through news channels, sports updates, and reality shows. But nothing caught his interest.
Nothing ever did.
His phone vibrated beside him, messages flashing across the screen of friends, clients, extended family members checking in, some just wanting favours, others pretending to care.
He ignored them all.
Instead, his gaze shifted to the coffee table, where Anant Mukherjee’s case file sat.
Which reminded him again of Arundhati and the flashes of their latest argument surfaced once more. She had made it sound so simple, as if his entire reason for marrying her had been for power, for her uncle’s firm.
She might have been born into it, but he had built it. He was just a middle-class boy once. Someone who had idolised lawyers as a kid, fascinated by the way they fought for justice, commanded courtrooms, and won battles with words alone.
But reality had been different.
Success had not come easily.
He had taken every small case that came his way, fought for recognition, and clawed his way into the legal world until Raj Verma had taken notice.
Under Raj Verma’s mentorship, he had learned from the best, won cases no one else dared to take, and helped Verma & Associates reach the pinnacle of success.
So yes, he deserved to lead the firm.
He had earned it.
But now, Arundhati was standing in his way.
Exhaling sharply, Kushal set his empty plate aside before grabbing the beer bottle and making his way to the balcony.
The city was alive beneath him, but his eyes instinctively flickered to the high-rise opposite his penthouse.
And there they were.
The same damn couple.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in their own world, foreheads touching, their bodies close, their intimacy noticeable even from a distance.
This wasn’t the first time he had seen them.
It wasn’t the first time he had felt that twisted sense of jealousy creeping in.
