Chapter 6: Power and Release

As I walked out of Arjun’s company building, Priya’s voice called from behind.

Her tone was sing-song, the click of her heels echoing off the marble floors. I kept walking, but she caught up to me easily.

"Ms Meera."

She caught up to me in a few steps, deliberately tucking her hair behind her ear.

She was all smiles, her confidence shining like new lipstick. The sun glinted off her earrings as she fixed her gaze on me.

"Thank you for fulfilling us, for letting Arjun go."

Her voice was sweet, but underneath, there was a hint of challenge. It was the kind of thank you that didn’t require a reply.

I saw the bright smile on her face, her eyes sparkling—the look of a victor flaunting her success.

I almost admired her audacity. She stood there, owning her win, certain nothing could shake her.

"You’re welcome. I just hope you won’t end up like me."

I smiled faintly, a warning from someone who’s been through it.

It was a small, sad smile – the kind that only someone who’s lost everything can manage.

The smile on Priya’s face faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

She squared her shoulders, eyes flashing with pride.

"How could I end up like you? Haven’t you already seen how Arjun feels about me?"

There it was – the arrogance of the chosen one, the belief that heartbreak only happens to other people.

She was referring to something from a long time ago.

I could see the memory flicker in her eyes. It was a wound she liked to prod, just to make sure it still hurt me.

Back then, Arjun had brought Priya to a get-together with his buddies. One of his friends accidentally brought up me and Arjun.

The air in the room had turned awkward, but Priya had leaned in, hungry for gossip.

Someone said,

"Once, Arjun was working late, and Meera waited for him outside by the gulmohar tree, then got harassed by a drunkard."

I remembered that night well – the anxiety, the shame, the relief when Arjun finally showed up.

At the time, Priya was nestled in Arjun’s arms. When she heard that, she wrinkled her pretty nose and made a disdainful noise.

"Isn’t that dirty?"

Who knows if she meant me sleeping in the garden, or being harassed by a drunkard. Either way, the room erupted in laughter.

The laughter stung more than any insult. I stood outside the door, fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.

I was just outside the door then. I’d planned to catch them together, but hearing that, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy hell—both cold and burning, tormented.

The ache in my chest returned, sharp as ever. Betrayal has a way of making you feel both invisible and exposed at the same time.

What made me freeze even more was Arjun’s attitude. He sat on the sofa, loosely holding Priya, and as everyone laughed and joked, he just smiled, silent and dismissive—as if they were mocking someone irrelevant, not the person he once protected so fiercely.

That silence from Arjun was the final blow – worse than any insult Priya could throw.

And in the final drinking game, Arjun happily drank the wine Priya passed to him from her mouth. At her playful urging, he said the words, "Meera, dirty."

His voice echoed in my mind, cold and final. It was a wound that never quite healed.

That was one of Priya’s victories in provoking me, and she was clearly very proud of it. The smile on her face deepened.

It was a smile I’d seen before – sharp, triumphant, hungry for my pain.

I looked at her and reminded her coldly,

My tone was icy, my eyes unflinching.

"Did you forget what I did that day? If you can’t remember, I don’t mind letting you experience it again."

Priya’s face changed instantly. I could tell she hadn’t forgotten.

Her bravado vanished, replaced by a flash of fear she couldn’t quite hide. I saw her glance nervously at my hands, remembering what I was capable of.

That night, I stormed into the private room in a rage. I dragged Priya off Arjun. Before anyone could react, I slapped her twice, then grabbed her and pressed her onto the table where the wine was.

The memory was as vivid as yesterday – the sting in my palm, the gasps from the onlookers, Priya’s cries.

"You think it’s funny? Do you know what happened to that drunkard afterward?"

Furious, I smashed a wine bottle. Amidst the shattering glass, Priya screamed. I held the jagged end close to her cheek, letting her tremble in terror beneath my hand.

For a few seconds, I was pure rage – all the humiliation, all the pain boiling over. No one in that room dared stop me. Someone muttered, "Bas karo, yaar," under their breath. An aunty in the group clutched her purse tighter, and the rest stared, wide-eyed at the drama unfolding.

"Just like today, I taught him a lesson."

"Bhabhi—"

"Meera—"

Their voices sounded distant, drowned by the roar of my anger. I didn’t care about their fear; I wanted them to know I wasn’t weak.

No one in the room dared to breathe. In the end, it was Arjun who stopped me. He rushed over, pulled me away, and threw me aside. Priya shrank behind him, pale and pitiful.

She clung to him, sobbing, while Arjun glared at me like I was the monster in the room.

"Arjun, save me."

There was anger brewing in Arjun’s eyes. He raised his hand, about to hit me. But when he met my bloodshot, hateful gaze, he suddenly froze.

He hesitated, seeing the fury in my eyes. Maybe, for the first time, he realised what he’d done to me.

"Meera..."

"Arjun, you don’t dare hit me, do you?"

But I dared.

My voice was steady, daring him. And in his moment of hesitation, I slapped him across the face with all my strength. My hand shook uncontrollably afterward.

The sound echoed in the room, everyone stunned into silence.

That was the beginning of the end for Arjun and me. After that day, he asked for a divorce and moved out to live with Priya.

The lines were drawn, and there was no turning back.

Priya never dared provoke me again. After all, when I lose control, I’m truly wild.

She glared at me resentfully.

"Now that Arjun has divorced you, do you still dare to be so arrogant?"

Her voice was shrill, but there was fear behind it. I almost felt sorry for her.

I shot back, "That’s none of your business."

My words hung in the air, final and absolute.

Then I turned and left.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor, each one lighter than the last.