Tarini accompanied her father to Chandigarh, her anxiety about leaving him alone swirling in her mind. She felt compelled to stay by his side, a silent protector in the tumultuous political landscape. As they drove through the bustling streets of Chandigarh, her father briefed her on the return of her father in law and Abhay to Gurgaon. Despite their familial ties through her, it was crucial that they not be seen together. The complex web of politics and business was unforgiving, and any misstep could further complicate matters.
Tarini was acutely aware that Devraj operated from Delhi, managing his affairs with a strategic distance from his father, whose headquarters lay firmly in Gurgaon.
Upon arriving at the Chief Minister's residence, The estate was a beautiful amalgamation of modern architecture and traditional Indian design, surrounded by lush gardens that seemed to bloom vibrantly in the midday sun. As she stepped out of the car, she felt the warmth of the evening sunlight wash over her, mingling with the fragrant scent of flowering bougainvillea that adorned the pathways.
Tarini couldn't help but reminisce about her first visit here in June last year, when she had walked through these same doors, filled with excitement. That day had marked a significant shift in her life, as she stepped into her father's world.
As Tarini settled into her room, decorated in soft pastels and plush furnishings, she stood by the large window, gazing out at the meticulously manicured gardens. The vibrant colors of the flowers were a stark reminder that beauty still existed, even amidst the challenges she faced.
The memory of her arrival last year flooded back—her heart raced with the thrill of new beginnings and the promise of summer adventures. Now, however, that excitement felt overshadowed by the weight of family matters and the pressing need to navigate the intricate world of Devraj Singh.
A week had passed, and Tarini found herself navigating the strange silence that had settled between her and her father. He was consumed with damage control, focusing on the fallout from his recent troubles, and their interactions had dwindled to a few hurried words exchanged over meals. Yet, strangely enough, Tarini found solace in this distance, allowing her father the space he needed to regain his footing.
One afternoon, while she busied herself in the kitchen with the chef, learning the intricacies of preparing a rich mutton dish, the familiar sounds of sizzling meat and fragrant spices filled the air. Laughter bubbled between the chef and Tarini as they experimented with seasonings, creating a symphony of scents that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.
But then, a sudden commotion from the living hall pierced through the culinary bliss. Voices raised, a tension she couldn't ignore. Curiosity tugged at her, and she set aside her cooking tools, wiping her hands on her apron before venturing into the other room.
As she entered, it took a moment for her to piece together the chaotic scene unfolding before her. Her father stood with his back to her, his expression tight as he gripped the phone to his ear. He was speaking forcefully, a mix of frustration and disbelief evident in his tone.
"No, you don't understand! Devraj has served my daughter divorce papers!" The words hit Tarini like a bolt of lightning, electrifying the air around her and causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as the reality of his words sunk in. She felt as if the walls were closing in, the space around her constricting with each syllable. The room spun slightly, the colors of the walls blurring into a kaleidoscope of confusion.
Her father's voice was a distant echo, muffled by the thundering in her ears. All the hopes she had clung to in the past weeks, the dreams of reconciliation with Devraj, shattered like glass. Each shard dug deep, sending painful reminders of their once passionate relationship slicing through her heart.
As her father continued the conversation, the gravity of the situation became all too clear. Tarini could barely breathe, her chest tightening as she leaned against the doorframe for support. How could it have come to this? A divorce?
"Tarini?" her father's voice snapped her back to reality, and she realized he had turned to face her, his expression a mix of concern and determination.
She forced a smile, but it felt brittle and hollow, like a mask she wore to hide the storm brewing within. "I…I just heard." Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade she tried to maintain.
"We'll figure this out," he said, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand. But all Tarini could think about was Devraj—the man she had married, the man who now stood poised to cut her from his life like an unwanted accessory.
With a swift nod, she turned away, needing to escape the suffocating tension that filled the air. She walked back into the kitchen, her heart heavy with the weight of impending loss, the clattering of pots and pans the only sound in the silence that followed her.
Later that evening, Tarini retreated to her room, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The weight of her father's words lingered in the air, unanswered and unresolved. She felt an unsettling emptiness settling in her chest as she sank onto the edge of her bed, her gaze unfocused as she stared into the distance.
How had it come to this? The question looped endlessly in her mind, like a haunting refrain that refused to fade. She thought back to the moments they had shared, memories that felt more like a mirage than a foundation for love. There was no love story here, no grand gestures or heartfelt confessions that could sustain a marriage. Instead, what she had experienced with Devraj was a fleeting romance obscured by the shadows of obligation and expectation.
At 28, Tarini felt an ache of immaturity in her heart, realizing that she had acted like a starry-eyed teenager in his presence, swept away by the allure of his charm without truly knowing him. She had wrapped herself in daydreams of romance, crafting narratives in her mind that never aligned with reality.
Devraj had never whispered sweet nothings into her ear or shared tender moments that could solidify their bond. Instead, their relationship had been one of convenience—a business arrangement between her father and him. It was a transaction masked as a union, with politics and power playing a far more significant role than love ever could.
As she reflected on their time together, she felt a pang of sadness mixed with clarity. There had been no promises made, no vows exchanged that would tether their hearts together. She remembered the cool detachment in his gaze during their interactions, the way he maintained an emotional distance that kept her yearning for something deeper, something more authentic.
The realization stung sharply. All the hope she had clung to—the belief that love could bloom in the cracks of their union—was shattered. They had been nothing more than players on a chessboard, moving according to their respective roles in the game of power.
Tarini ran a hand through her hair, frustration and disappointment swirling within her. She had wanted more, but now it seemed clear that she had misread the signs. Love was absent from the equation, and with it, the possibility of a future together. Instead, they were two ships passing in the night, each lost in their own currents, never truly connecting in the way she had longed for.
With a heavy sigh, she lay back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling, her heart heavy with the burden of unfulfilled dreams. The silence in the room was deafening, a stark reminder of the distance that now lay between them—a distance she was uncertain could ever be bridged.
The next morning, without informing a soul, Tarini boarded a flight to Gurgaon, a sense of urgency propelling her forward. As the aircraft soared above the sprawling landscape, her mind raced with thoughts of Devraj. She knew everyone had returned from Sukhana to their bungalow in Gurgaon, a palatial abode surrounded by manicured gardens and towering palm trees that swayed gently in the warm breeze.
Upon landing, Tarini felt a mix of determination and dread. She had to talk to Devraj, but the truth weighed heavy on her heart—he wasn't in Delhi. She considered heading to Suryakot, where she knew he might be, but the thought of that journey felt daunting. Instead, her mind settled on Sunanda, hoping that her mother in law might provide some solace amidst the chaos.
As she navigated the opulent surroundings of the bungalow, Tarini couldn't shake the feeling of bad luck that seemed to follow her, particularly with flights. This was the fourth time she had relied on an airplane and each journey had only deepened her sense of despair. Each flight was like a cruel reminder of her shattered life.
Tarini hesitated at the entrance, her heart pounding. She made her way through the grand foyer, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, but as she approached her in law's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear their voices inside. Curiosity piqued, she inched closer, and the words that drifted out struck her like a thunderbolt.
Sunanda's voice, usually warm and reassuring, now held a cold, harsh tone. "The Bhatis did right by serving the divorce papers. Devraj's happiness should be your priority Virender, not the profits he could gain from his association with a chief minister's daughter. His heart lies with Archi." Each word landed heavily, echoing in Tarini's mind and sending shockwaves through her heart. It felt like a physical blow, the realization hitting her harder than anything she could have imagined.
She quietly retreated, ignoring the curious glances from the staff bustling around the house. The weight of her emotions was suffocating as she stepped out of the bungalow, a sense of defeat washing over her.
Hailing a cab from the airport to the bungalow had seemed like a practical choice at the time, but now she regretted not opting for a car. If she had, perhaps she would have avoided this moment—this crushing realization.
As she walked aimlessly through the buzzing streets of Gurgaon, the vibrant energy of the city felt like a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. The heat of early June hung heavy in the air, making her feel even more trapped, like she was walking through a haze.
Tarini's thoughts spiraled as she drifted through the crowd, lost and defeated. Each step felt heavier than the last, her heart a tumult of emotions. She had come seeking answers, clarity, or at the very least, a moment of connection with Devraj, but now she was faced with a harsh truth—one that made her wonder if she had ever truly mattered in the grand scheme of his life. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had entered a reality show where her part was scripted, and all she could do was play her role, even as her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
Suddenly realizing the depth of her situation, Tarini took a deep breath and composed herself. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans to pull out her phone, feeling the familiar coolness of the device against her palm. In her emotional turmoil that morning, she had opted for comfort over style, donning a simple pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that stretched across her frame. The casual outfit, accompanied by her only pair of branded sports shoes, She owned from L.A felt inadequate for the chaos that engulfed her heart.
In that moment of desperation, she decided to call the one person who could rescue her, the one who had always been her anchor in turbulent times—Menka Kohli, her Masi, her mother's younger sister living in L.A. Menka Masi had a knack for navigating the stormy seas of life.
Finding a nearby park, she plopped onto a weathered bench beneath the comforting shade of a large banyan tree, its roots weaving into the earth like the complexities of her life. The chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves offered a brief distraction, but her sobs were loud enough to penetrate the serene atmosphere, drawing concerned glances from passersby.
When Menka answered, her voice was laced with worry. Tarini could hear the concern resonating through the phone as she explained her predicament in hiccups, the words spilling out between breaths. She recounted everything—the divorce papers, the revelations about Devraj and Archi, the overwhelming feelings of abandonment, and her little one. With each detail, her heart ached more, and the tears flowed freely.
About twenty minutes later, Tarini's moment of vulnerability was abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable presence of three men who approached her with purpose. She recognized them instantly—they were her father's men, sent to find her and bring her back to the safety. Panic surged through her, but just as quickly, a sense of relief washed over her. They were here to help, to rescue her from the spiraling chaos.
"Mam, are you alright?" one of them asked, his voice firm yet gentle as he crouched down beside her, concern etched on his face.
Before she could respond, Menka's calming voice filled her ear, through Cell phone reassuring her through the phone. "Just breathe, Tarini. I'll take care of this." Her Masi had a way of grounding her, making her feel safe even from a distance.
Tarini felt the warmth of gratitude swell within her. Menka had always been her savior, not just once but twice.
Menka had acted as a shield for Tarini, tactfully managing her mother's concerns while empowering Tarini to stand on her own. She had often assumed the role of a lawyer in their family dynamics, negotiating peace and understanding amidst turmoil.
With her heart racing, Tarini listened as her Masi promised to address the situation with her father. "He needs to know what's going on, Tarini. You don't have to face this alone." Menka's unwavering support was a balm for Tarini's aching heart.
Later that night in Chandigarh Tarini resolved to let go of any lingering hopes. If Devraj wanted a divorce, then so be it. She steadied herself with a newfound determination.
Her father, visibly concerned, attempted to talk her out of it. "Tarini, I'll negotiate with the Sangwans. We can save your marriage," he insisted, his voice tinged with urgency.
But Tarini wasn't interested in another transaction disguised as a relationship. "No. Papa I refuse to be a pawn in someone else's game," she retorted, her voice steady but laced with a simmering frustration. The tension was palpable, and her father's unease deepened as he was now acutely aware of her pregnancy. This made the stakes even higher.
In that moment, she reflected on Sunanda and the false sense of maternal affection she had hoped to find in her. Sunanda always seemed more inclined to patch up Virender's relationship with Devraj than to actually care about Tarini's feelings. It was disheartening to realize how easily the Sangwan family had severed their ties with her, treating her like an afterthought rather than the daughter they once embraced.
That night, as Tarini lay awake, she couldn't shake thoughts of Archi, the twenty-two-year-old girl at the Suryakot Palace whom the Bhati family adored as if she were their own. Fueled by a sudden curiosity, she opened social media and searched for Archi. There it was—a post showcasing the Gangaur celebration. Manya, her mother, her grandmother, and a few other ladies posed joyously, but what caught Tarini's attention was Archi, adorned in a green lehariya poshak with intricate gold work.
But something about the outfit seemed all too familiar. With a racing heart, she switched to her gallery, hastily swiping through photos until she found the one she dreaded—the image of Devraj's mother, Sonali Kumari of Suryakot, in a nearly identical lehariya poshak, her neckline adorned with a gleaming Kundan set and golden bangles jangling as she sat near the idols of Ganngaur Isar and Ithar.
A cold wave of betrayal washed over Tarini. This was no mere coincidence; it was the same outfit, the same jewelry—every detail echoed the ensemble Archi wore. The only difference was the grand Nath that Sonali sported, a symbol of her married status, while Archi didn't have any nose piercing—something Tarini knew all too well.
Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, and she understood the heavy silence at the dinner table that night in Suryakot Palace. They hadn't viewed Archi as a young girl throwing a fit; to them, she was the daughter-in-law they had envisioned, only hindered by Tarini—an unwanted thorn in their idyllic rose garden.
The irony was almost too much to bear. Here she was, the woman once coveted for her status, now relegated to the role of the obstacle, the "other woman" in a love story that had never really been hers to begin with.
A sardonic chuckle escaped Tarini's lips. "Well, at least I can add 'divorcee' to my résumé," she muttered to herself, bitterness lacing her tone. The world had turned into a dramatic soap opera, and she was just an uncredited extra in a scene she never auditioned for.
Few days later Her father, looking weary and tense, informed Tarini about the upcoming meeting with Devraj's lawyers. The weight of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders as she processed the news. She had already signed a prenuptial agreement before marriage, and the realization that there was little left to discuss—just the signing of some papers—felt like a cold, hard truth. Despite this, her father urged her to sit through the meeting. "I want you there, Tarini. This is important," he insisted, his tone mixing authority with an undercurrent of concern.
"I'll handle it," she replied firmly, shaking her head when he offered to accompany her. She was determined to face this storm on her own terms. After all, this was her life, her choices, and her future that hung in the balance.
The lawyer representing her was not the same one who had been present during the initial discussions about her marriage; instead, he was Manohar Jindal, a former State Law minister who had once graced the Supreme Court's Lawyer. His presence was intended to expedite the process, a favor arranged at her father's behest, but Tarini felt a mix of anxiety and respect towards him. She had heard enough about his reputation to know he was a man of integrity and experience.
As she met him few days befor the meeting with the other party at his office in delhi, the air was thick with unspoken tension. She sat across from Manohar, who reviewed the documents with a calm yet serious demeanor. Tarini studied him for a moment, searching for reassurance in his steady gaze. Finally, as the silence lingered, she voiced her concerns. "I understand the prenuptial agreement means I won't receive alimony, and I don't need it," she began, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and resolve. "But I want to ensure that my child is provided for."
Manohar nodded, his expression softening as he recognized the gravity of her words. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, encouraging her to articulate her needs.
"I want my child to carry the Sangwan surname, and I request for a joint custody," she declared, her voice steady, but deep inside, her heart ached. She had lived the painful reality of being a child of separated parents, the confusion and heartache that came with it. The memories flooded back— the missed connections, and the constant longing for stability that seemed forever out of reach. She wouldn't wish that kind of life on her child.
Deep down, she knew this would be a difficult journey, filled with heartbreak for herself, but it was crucial for her baby. "I want Devraj to be there for my child, no matter what happens between me and Devraj," she continued, her conviction unwavering. "I don't want my child to feel like they have to choose sides or live in a world filled with resentment."
Tarini could see the understanding in Manohar's eyes as he made notes, acknowledging the depth of her concerns. "That's very wise of you, Tarini. It shows your maturity, and I will ensure that your wishes are clearly outlined in the agreement," he replied, his tone reassuring.
With each word, Tarini felt a small spark of strength reignite within her. This was her moment to take control of her narrative, to fight for the future she envisioned for her child, free from the entanglements that had shackled her own past. It was not just about her anymore; it was about creating a life where her child could thrive, unburdened by the scars of separation and the complexities of adult relationships.
The meeting unfolded, filled with discussions and legalities, but in her heart, Tarini found a sense of purpose. She was not just signing papers; she was paving the way for a new life, one where love and understanding would hopefully take precedence over the bitterness of broken promises. It was a small victory in a larger battle, but it was a victory nonetheless.
It was June 28, and the sweltering heat of Delhi had finally given way to a refreshing breeze that wafted through the city, hinting at the onset of the monsoon season. Tarini could almost taste the change, a contrast to the stifling summer that had nearly melted her resolve. As she sat in the imposing boardroom, she could feel the humidity in her skin begin to dissipate, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a moment to breathe.
Surrounded by the polished wood and sleek glass of the office building, which she later learned was a hub of power and influence, Tarini felt both small and significant. She wore a deep maroon saree that clung to her with an elegance she hoped would convey strength and maturity—qualities she desperately needed to summon in that moment. The remnants of her marriage to Devraj still clung to her like a second skin. The gold chain pendant hung around her neck, and the faint trace of sindoor in her hairline felt more like an unwanted reminder than a symbol of love. Maybe, with time, she would shed them both like a bad habit, but for now, they were her armor, a nod to the past she was trying to navigate.
As she glanced up at the digital calendar mounted on the wall, her heart sank. It was the same date she had first arrived in India last year, the day that had marked the beginning of her new life. How swiftly the sands of time had shifted! Just moments into their meeting, the tension thickened like a storm cloud gathering in the distance as Devraj entered the room, flanked by his assistant, and to her surprise, Sangram Singh—his maternal uncle. A man who radiated authority and protectiveness. In his late forties, he stood tall and imposing, his broad shoulders suggesting a lifetime of discipline befitting a Rajput. His deep-set, piercing eyes, framed by thick-rimmed glasses, scanned the room with an air of scrutiny.
Sangram Singh carried himself with an unmistakable nobility. The neatly groomed beard and mustache framed his strong jawline, while the hint of gray at his temples told stories of years spent battling the world outside.
Tarini felt a familiar tension rise within her as she met his gaze. Sangram Singh had raised Devraj after his mother's death, nurturing him with a fierce loyalty that often translated into a cold disdain for her presence.
As she prepared to face the impending negotiations, Tarini couldn't shake the feeling that Sangram Singh's watchful eyes would be the true judge of her worth in this daunting game.
With them was a different lawyer, one she hadn't seen before, adding to the ever-growing list of unknowns in this complicated equation.
Tarini took a deep breath, forcing her eyes to maintain their composure while her thoughts raced. "Ah, a family reunion!" she thought sarcastically, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
The new lawyer from Devraj's side introduced himself, making his way through the formalities with all the enthusiasm of a man discussing tax codes at a dinner party. Tarini could see the flicker of impatience in Manohar's eyes, who was clearly ready to get down to business.
The meeting progressed in a flurry of legal jargon and pointed exchanges. Tarini felt a swirl of emotions—a cocktail of anger, sorrow, and a hint of determination. As the discussions unfolded, she found herself caught between nostalgia and a fierce desire for independence. "What a difference a year makes," she mused internally. Last year, she had stepped into this very city with hopes and dreams, only to find herself grappling with the fallout of a relationship that had never been what it seemed.
Throughout the meeting, Tarini stubbornly refused to glance at Devraj. Not when he entered the room, nor when he silently took his seat beside her. The air between them felt thick, like a thread stretched too tightly, ready to snap. She shifted in her chair, angling herself away from him, as if the very act of turning towards him would break the fragile composure she had worked so hard to maintain.
Her eyes zoned in on the digital calendar on the wall, the numbers blurring as the voices in the room faded into a distant hum. It was easier this way—focusing on something mindless than acknowledging the storm of emotions brewing inside her. She knew too well what would happen if she let her guard down for even a second. One look at Devraj and she'd crumble into a sobbing mess, pleading with him to take her back, to undo the hurt, to make it all right again.
She could already see herself, clinging to him like a lifeline, begging him to reconsider, to stay. She hated that version of herself—the one that had once begged her parents to stay together, to fulfill her childish wish for a perfect family. They didn't. They had shattered her illusions without a second thought, leaving her with broken pieces she couldn't fix. She wasn't about to relive that pain, not here, not with Devraj.
No, this time would be different. She had to be stronger than the girl who begged for things that were never meant to be.
As the conversation turned towards the specifics of the divorce, she steadied herself, preparing to reclaim her narrative. With each passing minute, the realization deepened that she was not merely a participant in this drama; she was the one who would write its next chapter.