3. The Big Betrayal

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Banging the door behind me, I locked the door

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Banging the door behind me, I locked the door. Rather than throwing all the antique pieces of jewelry I wore for the wedding, I patiently got them off my body.

Spend hours in Brazilian waxing, got tons of cuts and sat through hours of bridal make up only for calling the wedding off.

Stripping off the blouse and lehenga that was initially my husband's responsibility to tear from my skin, I slipped into the amber palazzo set I had worn to the venue last night. Despite my mother's innumerable protests, I denied encaging myself in a saree on my wedding day. My prime reason was comfort. But now I am thankful to my conscience for not wearing a saree.

As I stuffed all the jewelry Aman parents had gifted me, a knock on the door resonated. The last thing on my list was consolidations and consolations.

With an irritated sigh, I yanked the door open. Stood in all his glory, my boss looked nervous. Had been in a stable mental condition, I would have invited him in. But for now, I rose one of my eyebrows in question.

"I'll drop you at your place, if you're ready to go." His voice was as deep as ever and as calm as one could picture him to be. With a nod, I collected my phone, my purse and the jewellery bag.

Walking out of the room, I found Trisha standing in the middle of the hallway. She wrapped her arms around my neck and collected me in a bone crushing hug.

I gave her the bag of jewelries. "Give this to his parents." I told her.

"Sure. Call me once you're home. I'll be back at your place once I am done with everything here."

I nodded my head in acknowledgement.

Following Mr. Rathore to his car, I waited patiently as Wahaj handled the security. Taking a seat in his luxurious royal car, I heaved a sigh.

This was not how I had pictured my d-day to go. I stuck my head to the window as the trees and buildings were left behind.

"Are you... okay?" I heard my boss ask.

"Surprisingly yes." I muttered after a long pause.

Basking in the peaceful silence of the car, I self- assessed my reaction. I should have felt upset. Sad. Angry. Something. But I am numb.

A long span of silence covered the car before another question was fired at me. "Are you hungry?" He asked me. I shrugged. "I skipped my lunch." I answered .

His eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you even do that?" He paused. "Skipping meals are never advised for any reason, Ms. Rudraksh."

"I feared about bloating. I wanted to fit into y lehenga without a bloated tummy." I chuckled before turning my gaze back to the window.

I could see him texting someone from the corner of my eyes. I really hope he was not texting his best friend, giving him updates about how miserable I was.

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