Chapter 4: A New Life Down South

After getting the divorce certificate, I went south alone.

I left Mumbai behind, carrying just a suitcase and a few books, the city lights shrinking in my train window as I searched for quiet. I didn’t know what I was looking for—peace, a second chance, or just a place where nobody knew my story.

I didn’t contact my family for three years.

My phone gathered dust in a drawer. The only sounds in my new life were the birds at dawn, temple bells in the distance, and the steady hum of ceiling fans. For the first time, I could hear my own thoughts.

Some time ago, they got in touch, telling me Rohan and Priya were getting married.

The call came from Priya herself.

“Tanvi, come back for my wedding. Only if you’re there will I feel less guilty!”

Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, but the old entitlement was still there. Still, something in me softened. Maybe I needed closure. Maybe I was just tired of running.

I was silent for a long time before replying, “Okay.”

The day I returned home, the weather was sunny and beautiful.

The auto’s horn, the distant call of the kulfiwala, and the smell of frying vada pav greeted me like old friends. The city was still the same, but I was not. The bungalow loomed, familiar and strange all at once.

As soon as I walked in with my suitcase, Priya rushed out.

“Tanvi!”

She moved lightly, even in the late autumn heat, wearing only a thin nightdress.

Behind her, Rohan came striding out in slippers, holding a shawl.

“Why can’t you remember to wear slippers? Next time you do this, I’ll…”

His voice trailed off.

He saw me.

It was the first time we’d seen each other since the divorce.

By all rights, I should greet him.

I turned and nodded politely.

After three years, Rohan still looked as I remembered—his eyes less cold, more gentle.

He nodded, looked away, and draped the shawl over Priya’s shoulders.

“You two talk. I’ll go handle some work.”

He didn’t linger, maybe out of awkwardness or just wanting to avoid the past. Either way, his exit let me breathe again.

Priya came up, holding my arm affectionately.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back! Tomorrow is the lehenga fitting, will you come with me?”

I pulled my arm away, expression blank. “I have something to do tomorrow.”

Priya pouted. “Is it important?”

“Mm, very important.”

She thought for a second. “Then we’ll do it the day after. Finish your work tomorrow and come…”

“I’m not staying at home!” I interrupted. “Tell Amma and Baba I’m busy, I won’t be coming home!”

With that, I pulled my suitcase and left without looking back.

The corridor echoed with my footsteps, Amma’s sighs following me from the kitchen. But I didn’t care. Not anymore.

Not far away, a car pulled up in front of me.

The window rolled down, revealing Rohan’s face.

“Get in, I’ll drive you.”

His tone was gentle but firm—a quiet insistence I remembered. I hesitated, knowing if I refused, he’d just follow me.

I refused coolly. “No, thank you.”

He was stubborn—if I didn’t get in, he would keep following.

“It’s hard to get an auto here. Get in.”

Looking at the endless road, I finally gave in.

Once inside, I gave him the address.

He frowned. “Why not stay at the Bandra flat?”

“I don’t like it.”

The Bandra flat was given to me in the divorce, but he didn’t know—I’d already sold it.

Rohan’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t ask more.

When we arrived, I got out and Rohan got out too.

He carried my suitcase, not planning to hand it over. “Let’s go.”

“I can go up myself.”

I tried to take the suitcase but couldn’t budge it.

He glanced around. “Are you having financial problems?”

This place was at least two levels below the Bandra flat.

“No.”

He dragged the suitcase straight in. “Which building? Which floor?”

Rohan is very stubborn—once he decides something, no one can change it.

I didn’t insist, just led the way.

We entered the lift and went upstairs.

At my door, I took the suitcase. “Thank you, it’s not convenient today, so I won’t invite you in.”

“Wait.”

I turned back.

“Have you been well these years?”

Looking into his eyes, I felt a little dazed. He’d never spoken to me like that before.

Just as I was about to answer, the door opened from inside.

A tall, handsome man appeared without warning.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, tall and lean—he was practically walking testosterone!

He reached out, pulled me into his embrace, and said, “Why did you get here so late, hmm?”

As he spoke, he leaned in to kiss me.

Just as his lips brushed mine, Rohan’s angry voice rang out behind us:

“Kya kar rahe ho?!”

But the man didn’t stop—he gave me a deep kiss, then held me lazily and looked at Rohan.

But he spoke to me: “How long was I gone, and you’ve already found someone new? I really can’t let my guard down with you, haan~”

I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

I had to look at Rohan. “If you have something to say, let’s talk another time.”

Rohan’s hand clenched into a fist, his lips pressed together—a sure sign he was about to lose his temper.

But before he could say more, I was swept inside.

The door closed.

The man approached, a dangerous look in his eyes.

“If I remember right, your flight landed at eleven, and now it’s two in the afternoon. Three hours, and you’ve already met with your ex-husband?”

I poked his waist gently.

“Kabir…”

He immediately grabbed my hand, his deep voice warning, “Don’t try to fool me.”

I pinched his shirt, lowering my eyes.

He tucked a stray hair behind my ear, his eyes searching mine. As soon as our eyes met, Kabir let out an exasperated laugh.

“I haven’t even started scolding you, and you’re already crying?”

I sniffled. “I missed you so much…”

For a moment, the world outside—the traffic, the gossip, the past—just faded away. It was just us, tangled up in old pain and new hope.