Page 65 of Lawfully Yours
Next Morning
The engine purred beneath her fingers as Arundhati steered through the thinning Monday traffic, eyes locked on the road ahead but mind ticking through not the dozen things she had to deal with at Verma & Associates but the damn kiss with Kushal in her uncle’s villa last night.
It had ambushed her.
She still couldn’t believe how she let it happen. One moment, she was pushing Kushal away with her words, flinging their mutual bitterness like knives. The next, his hand was on her waist, her breath caught between fury and surrender, and his lips on hers. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was months of love, pain, pride, and betrayal, all crashing into one forbidden moment.
What the hell had she done?
They were divorcing. Their next court trial was within a month, and yet, there she was, last night, melting into the man she had sworn to leave.
She could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his fingers had found the small of her back like they remembered her, as if her body had been waiting all this time for that exact contact. She hated herself for it. But more than that, she hated the truth the kiss had laid bare.
She still wanted him.
Last night, those same thoughts haunted her as she returned from the kitchen. She hadn’t dared to face him again. She didn’tknow what she would say, or worse, what she would do if she saw him. So, with the first ray of sunlight, she typed a quick message to her uncle, just a line—“Heading back to my apartment”,and slipped out silently. No goodbyes. No morning pleasantries. Because if she stayed even a minute longer, she would have to face Kushal again.
And she couldn’t do that.
Because he had kissed her like he loved her.
Arundhati blinked back the sting in her eyes as she pulled up at a red light. She couldn’t afford this. Couldn’t afford to be swept away by one night of vulnerability wrapped in tuxedos and scotch. They were done. Weren’t they?
She scoffed bitterly. Tell that to her racing pulse. Tell that to her lips that still burned.
They had crossed a line. And now, the only thing more terrifying than their fights… was the possibility that something between them still lived.
She had barely passed the signal at Carter Road when her phone rang. It was from Diya, her assistant.
Composing herself into professional mode again, she pressed the Bluetooth. “Yes, Diya?”
“Ma’am, have you seen the news?”
“News?” Arundhati’s brows furrowed. “What news? I’m en route to the office. What’s happened?”
“Ma’am, a backdated post has gone viral. It has Anant Mukherjee’s pictures...”
“Pictures? What kind?”
“Intimate. With a woman. Not Sadhna.”
“What?”
“They’re everywhere. Instagram, Twitter and even news outlets have picked it up. I’ve just sent the links to you.”
Arundhati pulled over sharply, the car jerking to a halt near a café. She fumbled for her phone and tapped open themessages and downloaded the photos. Anant, almost shirtless, was holding a woman in his arms. Another, kissing her neck in a background of what looks like a pub. Candid, careless, undeniably real pictures dated a year back.
Her stomach sank.
“Who is she?” she asked, trying to control her anger.
“Her name’s Noyonika Talwar. She’s given a statement to the media claiming they were involved a year ago, while he was still married to Sadhna.”
The phone felt hot in her hand.
“She mentioned emotional abuse and stated she left him, having no further contact since,” Diya continued. “Now she wants nothing to do with him.”
Arundhati closed her eyes.
