Page 156 of Lawfully Yours

Today was Anant and Sadhna’s first court session.

Arundhati stepped out of the guest room, wearing a black pantsuit, with laptop and case files tucked neatly under her arm. She looked every bit the confident lawyer, but her heart still carried the pain of the night before.

From the opposite end, Kushal emerged from their bedroom, dressed in his sharp suit, phone pressed to his ear. He was speaking to Anant, reassuring him not to panic and to follow the instructions they’d laid out the previous day.

The moment he dropped the call, Arundhati approached him.

“I made breakfast for us,” she said, waiting for his acknowledgment.

He paused, visibly surprised, though he masked it quickly. “I don’t have time to eat,” he said curtly.

She forced a small smile anyway. “Fine. Maybe not here, but I’ve packed them. We can eat on the way.”

She was assuming they would drive together. Like a married couple. Like partners.

But his reply cut that thought down. “I’m not going straight to court. I have another short meeting before that. I’ll see you directly there.” He didn’t wait for her response; he simply picked up his files and walked out.

She stood there for a moment, clutching the sandwich box she had so carefully prepared. She had thought, just maybe, now that they were under the same roof again, they could at least share a car ride. But Kushal had made his point too clear.

It dawned on her then how often he must have felt this same sting. All those times in the past when he had offered to drop her home after long hours at work, and she had refused, always choosing her cab, her car, her independence. How small and distant he must have felt then, the way she felt now.

Maybe this was his way of showing her what it felt like to be shut out. Maybe this was his way of making her live every mistake she had made until she repented each one.

She steadied herself. No more tears. She tucked the sandwiches into her bag, straightened her shoulders, and with as much composure as she could muster, walked out to drive herself to court.

****************

An hour later

Kushal pulled into the courthouse parking lot, slid his car into a space, and stepped out. To his surprise, he spottedRaj Verma leaning casually against another car, a half-eaten sandwich in hand.

“Sir?” Kushal frowned, walking toward him. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to attend Anant’s session today. You had that meeting at the firm.”

Raj nodded, chewing before replying. “I still have the meeting. I just came to drop Aru.”

Kushal stilled. “Drop her? What happened to her car?”

Raj caught the confusion written plainly on his face and clarified, “Her tyres gave out. Right there, at your tower’s parking. She was already on the phone with me when it happened, so I told her not to bother with a cab. I was passing by, so I picked her up.”

Something twisted in Kushal’s chest. If he had known… he would have let her ride with him. He realised she had wanted that. And instead, he had pushed her away with the excuse of a “meeting” that didn’t exist.

His eyes dropped to the sandwich in Raj’s hand, and before Kushal could ask, Raj smirked knowingly. “Aru made these. She packed a whole box for me. They’re really good… but I’m sure you already know, right? She told me you two had breakfast together at home.”

That was a lie. He hadn’t eaten with her. After leaving home, he’d grabbed a coffee and croissant at a café on the way instead. Which only meant one thing—Arundhati hadn’t eaten at all. She had offered the sandwiches to her uncle, masking the fact that she herself had skipped breakfast.Because of him.

Raj popped the last bite into his mouth, dusted his hands, and checked his watch. “Alright. I need to head out now. Keep me updated about what happens inside, will you? See you two at the firm.”

Sliding into his car, he drove away.

Kushal exhaled hard, feeling guilty. But he had no time for this. Squaring his shoulders, he strode toward the family court hall. The press swarmed outside the doors like vultures. The moment they saw Kushal, microphones and cameras were shoved at his face.

Reporter 1:“Mr. Nair! Is it true your client is refusing all alimony demands?”

Reporter 2:“Sir, what do you say about the abuse allegations against Mr. Mukherjee?”

Reporter 3:“Do you think this case will damage your own firm’s reputation?”

Kushal didn’t pause. He kept walking ahead, ignoring every question, and cut through the chaos. The security barely kept the crowd at bay. He finally walked inside the court hall, and the thick wooden doors closed behind him, shutting out the frenzy.