Chapter 6: A New Life, An Old Shadow

I agreed to marry Kabir. There was a peace in my decision, like the coolness after the first monsoon shower.

I couldn’t find a reason to refuse.

Whether family background, appearance, or character, there was nothing to fault. The Colonel’s house was warm, filled with laughter and books.

If it weren’t for those four words she whispered, he would never have married a woman with a previous marriage. I understood, and I was grateful for the honesty.

Just as well—I asked nothing more of him. No promises, no love stories. Just companionship.

In a sense, perhaps it was a match made in heaven. Or, at least, a match arranged by fate and family.

The next day, I went with Kabir to the court to submit the divorce papers. The courthouse was noisy, lawyers in black coats everywhere, the ceiling fans churning the heavy air.

The magistrate looked at us, his mouth wide open as if he could swallow a samosa. He dared not ask a single question, only trembled as he handed me the household registration. Divorce and remarriage all in one file—he’d never seen such efficiency.

On the third day, the Colonel and his wife came to visit. They brought boxes of sweets and bouquets of fresh marigold.

The Colonel’s wife was extremely satisfied with me. She seemed deeply moved that her son had finally found a girl he wanted to marry, and held my hand, looking me over and over with red eyes. I felt my heart thaw, just a little.

When she left, she took my birth date. I knew she would match horoscopes, just in case, as all good families do.

In less than half a month, Kabir and I set the wedding date. The elders chose an auspicious day after consulting the family pandit.

Kabir seemed very happy. He whistled while shaving, greeted the milkman with a grin, and called his mother twice a day.

Perhaps to make the marriage seem real, he not only handled everything personally, but often invited me out for outings. We visited bookstores, walked in the gardens, and argued over which mithai was best at Haldiram’s.

I found him very interesting. Clearly a carefree army man, yet always putting on the airs of a scholar before me, as if afraid I’d regret the marriage if I saw his true nature.

This day, we were at the boutique choosing wedding clothes. The owner, no matter what, refused to sell me the designer lehenga. Her nose was in the air, eyes sliding over me as if I were invisible. The shopkeeper’s eyes flicked from my plain bangles to Kabir’s crisp kurta, lips pressed tight.

Seeing Kabir about to lose his temper and slap his ID card on the table, he caught a glimpse of me. I shook my head, mouthing, “No scene, please!”

"Ah, the weather is truly fine today, the sun is bright, not a cloud in the sky, the breeze gentle, spring light dazzling!" Kabir declared, voice loud enough for the entire shop to hear, earning him a few amused glances.

"Priya, let’s go boating on the lake."

Leaving the boutique, I was still covering my mouth, laughing softly. Kabir’s antics were a pleasant surprise, the sunlight turning his hair golden as we walked.

"Wife, don’t laugh at me…"

The man beside me scolded gently, his hand brushing against mine. There was a shyness in his eyes, rare for a soldier.

Suddenly, he softly took my hand. My heart skipped a beat, a warm thrill running through me.

Just then, there was a commotion on the street. The air was thick with the smell of fried samosas and the noise of horns blaring.

"The Roy family returns to Mumbai! All idlers, make way!" A street hawker shouted, waving his hands to clear the crowd.

I was pushed back two steps. Kabir steadied me, his arm strong and steady.

Looking up, I saw two SUVs clearing the way. Their black windows gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Rohan was in the second car, several vehicles following. He looked the same—imposing, confident, untouchable.

A beautiful woman sat in front with him. Her saree was sky blue, her jewellery elegant and understated—Sneha.

"Priya." When he saw me, a hint of surprise flashed in Rohan’s eyes. For a moment, he looked almost uncertain.

He stepped out of the car. The driver rushed to open the door, and Sneha leaned sideways: "Rohan!"

Rohan steadied her, his hand lingering on her shoulder, careful and possessive.

When he looked at me again, as if remembering something, a trace of arrogance appeared in his eyes. The familiar tilt of his chin returned, old habits refusing to die.

"Come here." He raised his chin slightly, looking down at me from atop the SUV.

"Help your husband’s new wife down from the car."

The air was heavy, every eye on the street watching for my reaction. My heart thudded, but I kept my chin up, refusing to let him see even a flicker of pain. I lifted my chin and met his gaze, the world narrowing to a single, silent challenge.

But this time, I didn’t move. Not a step. Not for him. Not anymore.