Page 147 of Mrs. Rathore

It wasn’t her.

It was Ira, standing there in her uniform, giving me a nervous smile.

“Good morning, Sir,” she said, her voice tinged with irony. “And congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, stepping back and letting her inside.

She hesitated for a moment before entering, scanning the place with watchful eyes. “I just came to check on you… to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” I answered quickly, brushing past her and walking into my room to grab a T-shirt.

“It’s your day off today,” she added, as if I didn’t know. “And… I heard Avni left last night.”

My jaw clenched.

When I came out, she was seated on the couch, holding the divorce papers in her hand. I hadn’t expected her to touch them.

Shock flashed across her face as she looked at me. “Life played such a cruel game, Aryan,” she said quietly. “I waited six years to be transferred to the same unit as you. And now, we’re finally in the same unit… but you’re married.”

She smiled faintly, almost to herself. “No doubt you were the best boyfriend I ever had. You were supportive, protective, caring… but not loving.”

She looked straight into my eyes, as if daring me to disagree.

“You were never in love with me, Aryan. We did love each other but not the way people fall in love. We loved each other like best friends, like comrades, like two soldiers sharing the same battlefield. But not like you love Avni.”

She glanced away. “If you had ever been in love with me, you wouldn’t have married Avni on the very day we were supposed to marry. And if I had truly loved you that way, I would’ve fought harder. But I just let you go.”

“Ira…” I said softly.

“I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now,” she whispered, “but I want to see you happy. And you’re not. You can’t let go of her, can you?”

“We better not talk about that,” I replied coldly, the warning clear in my tone.

She ignored it. “Don’t divorce her,” she said gently. “I know you love her. I’ve seen it…the way you look at her. I’ve always wished someone would look at me like that.”

Ira’s words settled heavily between us.

I couldn’t speak. My throat was dry. My jaw clenched again, this time from the ache of regret building in my chest.

Ira stood, smoothing her uniform. Her eyes were kind, but her voice was resolute.

“Don’t lose something people spend their whole lives searching for,” she said softly, turning to the door.

“Ira…” I called out, just as she reached the threshold. She paused, one brow raised.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice rough. “For everything. For hurting you.”

She gave me the smallest smile she could manage. “You didn’t hurt me, Aryan. Life just didn’t turn out the way we imagined.”

Her voice was calm now, almost peaceful, like she had finally let go.

“But that doesn’t mean you stop fighting for what matters,” she said and then walked out, quietly closing the door behind her.

I stared at the closed door for a long moment.

The room was silent again.

Her scent was already fading, but Avni’s scent lingered in the air, clinging to the broken perfume bottle on the floor like a ghost I couldn’t exorcise.