Chapter 6: The Last Word

My mood instantly soured, but since Papa was still receiving him, I could only let Meera help me to the living room.

She wrapped a shawl around my shoulders, fussing over my hair. The walls echoed with the sound of distant traffic, the city refusing to sleep.

Inside, Papa’s face was cold, while Kabir’s was full of guilt. If Papa was truly angry, it would be far worse than this.

Papa’s silence was thunderous. Even the wall clock seemed to hold its breath.

Kabir, what on earth did you say?

I wondered if he’d tried to justify himself—or if he even knew what he’d lost.

"Papa. Doctor Kabir." I sat down as if meeting him for the first time, my tone distant, as if we were strangers.

My words were clipped, my back straight. The gap between us yawned wider than ever.

Since I entered, his gaze never left me. Hearing my words, his eyes dimmed, his fists clenched at his sides.

I could see him struggling, wanting to bridge the gap but not knowing how. His hands trembled slightly.

All his helplessness condensed into one word: "Sorry."

The word hung between us, awkward and inadequate.

"Why has Doctor Kabir come? We’re already divorced. There’s no need for further contact." My voice was cold, but he was clearly unsettled.

Meera’s eyes darted between us, her mouth set in a hard line.

"Ananya, I never agreed to a divorce. I know you misunderstood something. I came to explain."

His voice was urgent, desperate. But I refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at the framed photo of Amma on the wall.

"Will you listen to me?" He stepped forward quickly, reaching for my hand, but Meera blocked him.

She stood between us, small but fierce, her loyalty unwavering.

"There’s nothing to say. I just want a divorce." That was my only request. I’m not a fool—misunderstanding or not, I see things clearly.

I wouldn’t be talked out of my own truth. The silence that followed was thick, oppressive.

"Doctor Kabir, my daughter is headstrong and unworthy of you. Let’s part peacefully." Papa spoke as if scolding me, but every word was in my favour.

His eyes met mine, shining with pride. For all his sternness, his love was fierce.

He didn’t know why I wanted a divorce, but he knew I was never wrong. He supported every decision I made.

He squeezed my hand under the table, a silent blessing.

"Uncle, Kabir knows his mistake. I hope Ananya will give me another chance. I’ll never let her suffer again." He was earnest. At some point, Meera stepped aside, letting him seize my hand.

His grip was warm, pleading. The words hung between us, fragile as spun sugar.

Just as I was about to shake him off, I suddenly found myself unable to control my own mouth: "Papa, I’ll go back with him first and hear his explanation."

The words burst out of me, alien and unwanted. My eyes flew wide in shock.

I glared at Kabir in horror, resentment boiling inside. He actually drugged me!

A flash of memory—last night’s water tasted faintly bitter. My fists clenched in anger, but I forced myself to stay calm.

But no matter how furious I was, I didn’t show it. He didn’t dare meet my eyes, only gripped my hand tighter and bid Papa farewell.

Papa’s eyes narrowed, but he let us go, trusting me to handle my own fate.

As I was about to be led out of the house, anxiety overwhelmed me and tears welled up.

My heart pounded, my vision swam. The world blurred as Kabir led me away, and I could only cling to the memory of Papa’s steady hand and Meera’s unwavering strength.

But as the door closed behind me, I knew—whatever Kabir said next could change everything, or nothing at all.