Chapter 1: The Villainess Awakens

In the fifth year of my marriage to Arjun—my childhood best friend turned husband—I finally saw it: I was the villainous supporting female in someone else’s novel.

Deep inside, I’d always pictured life with Arjun as a calm river—steady, sure, flowing together through each season. But that afternoon, when he left me alone in the hospital, his phone vibrating with someone else’s name lighting up the screen, something inside me went completely still. No shouting, no drama—just a quiet resignation. I folded the crisp pregnancy report into my purse, shifted my modest savings and jewellery into my own account, placed the divorce papers on the rosewood centre table, and walked out. No goodbyes, no explanations—like the monsoon had ended, leaving only the scent of wet earth lingering in the silence.

A month later, Arjun appeared in my mother’s cramped living room, eyes swollen and ringed with dark circles, as if sleep had forgotten him. The fragrance of agarbatti mixed uneasily with his expensive cologne. He cornered me, voice trembling: “Meera, you scared me to death. You left without a word—just handed down a death sentence?”

As I stepped into the monsoon-soaked street, the city’s noise seemed to hush, as if waiting to see what I’d do next.