Page 197 of Lawfully Yours

Epilogue

Seven Years Later

Verma & Associates had changed in many ways, but the soul of the firm remained untouched…sharp minds, relentless cases, brutal cross-examinations, and an unshakeable commitment to justice. Whathadchanged, however, was the pair now standing at its helm.

KUSHAL NAIR & ARUNDHATI NAIR.

In the last seven years, their reputation had not just grown, it had multiplied. Every major publication had featured them. Every high-profile client wanted them specifically. And every big law school in the country had cited Verma & Associates as the firm that had redefined modern litigation.

Kushal, with his razor-sharp instincts, was still the strategist everyone feared in court. He could dismantle a fabricated claim with a single question, twist an argument so cleanly that opposing counsel often needed a moment to breathe.

Arundhati’s cross-examinations were still the stuff of legends. She could pick apart a lie without raising her voice, without losing grace. Judges respected her. Clients adored her. Opponents dreaded her.

Together, they had doubled the firm’s client base, diversified into three new legal divisions, and expanded Verma & Associates across two cities, each branch carrying their strong and ethical imprint.

Raj Verma had now gloriously retired from active practice, more silver-haired, slightly slower in movement, but far more mischievous than before. Every morning, without fail, he still walked into the office and settled into his favourite leather chair, the one placed right by the window in the corner office. He wasn’t the firm’s head anymore, but his presence was like oxygen. He offered the kind of wisdom no classroom, no courtroom, no textbook could replicate. He corrected drafts, gave finishing touches to arguments, pointed out loopholes Kushal had missed, and occasionally gave Arundhati a knowing look when she overworked herself.

In short, he refused to let go entirely, and Kushal and Arundhati didn’t want him to. After all, his presence anchored the entire firm. He was their foundation, their mentor,their family.

And now, seven years later, the firm he had built with his sweat and brilliance was soaring higher than ever, under the leadership of the two people he trusted the most.

Today’s morning meeting at the conference room of Verma & Associates wasn’t routine. Files lay open on the long oak table, screens projected timelines and evidence charts, and ten of their brightest associates sat looking at the power duo, Kushal and Arundhati, who discussed the Batra Divorce case with the team.

The case was so volatile, so public, and so deeply emotional that every lawyer in the room felt the pressure of it. Mrs. Batra, their client, was a well-known businesswoman with a strong, stubborn spine. She had only one demand—sole custody of her child. No joint custody. No shared parenting. Not even alternate weekends. She was willing to grant her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Kabir Batra, a high-profile politician with influence in every corridor of power, only“occasional meets.”

A proposition the court was already frowning upon.

The media was circling like vultures, speculating everything from domestic abuse to extramarital affairs to political cover-ups. Every headline had the potential to become a weapon in court. Every move could shift public sympathy.

Kushal leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, as he addressed. “We need to stop reacting to their moves and start dictating the tempo,” he said.

Arundhati agreed. “Mrs. Batra refuses to budge,” she said calmly. “She’s clear that Kabir isn’t getting even fifty percent custody.”

One of the associates, a young lawyer named Priyansh, hesitated. “But ma’am… Kabir Batra has never been proven unfit as a father. The court won’t take away equal custody just because the mother wants it.”

“Which is why we don’t argue with sentiment,” she replied. “We argue with facts.”

Kushal nodded once. “And our strongest fact is—Kabir Batra hasn’t spent more than four to five consecutive days with his kid in any given month for the last three years. His schedule is merciless. His public life consumes him.”

He gestured to the associate across the table, and a screen lit up with calendar entries, travel logs, and security movement charts of Kabir Batra. Every date stamped. Every gap documented.

Arundhati took over seamlessly.

“We can build a narrative of inconsistency, not incompetence. Kabir is not a bad father. But he is an absent one. And courts don’t like giving children to ghosts.”

The team of lawyers nodded in unison.

“However,” Kushal added, sighing, “we cannot paint Kabir as a villain. He’s a public figure with political goodwill. The moment we attack him, he’ll retaliate with twice the force.”

Arundhati nodded. “Which means our strategy should be simple. We’ll argue what’s in the best emotional and psychological interest of the child.”

She flipped another page and continued, “Mrs. Batra’s demand for sole custody is extreme. We need to convince her to soften it, at least on paper. Because if we enter the next hearing with an all-or-nothing approach, the judge may give her nothing.”

Kushal leaned back in his chair, tapping the table lightly. “Let’s prepare for two fronts: A courtroom strategy strong enough to counter a politician’s influence. And a diplomatic approach for the media, because one wrong headline can sway public perception.”

He turned to the team.

“We need every interview Kabir has done in the last five years. Every live debate, every press conference, every statement where he has admitted his commitments outweighing his personal life.”