Page 26 of Lawfully Yours

She didn’t care about the fact that half of them expected this to turn into the most explosive divorce trial in recent history.

She only cared about one thing—winning.

Reaching her designated seat at the petitioner’s table, she placed her case files down.

And then, as if on instinct, her eyes flickered toward the entrance. She shouldn’t have looked.

But she did.

The doors swung open, and in walked the man who had perfected the art of making an entrance. Kushal Nair.

Dressed in his crisp white shirt, a black waistcoat beneath his perfectly tailored black lawyer’s coat, and slim black trousers, he looked as effortlessly commanding as ever.

Kushal’s gaze swept across the room as he moved inside with his signature self-assured arrogance, until his eyes landed on her. And for a fraction of a second, he paused. Arundhati refused to react. She turned her focus back to the judge’s seat, but she could feel his eyes still on her. A second later, when she dared to steal one glance back at him, to her absolute irritation, he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He had already moved past her, settling into his seat at the respondent’s table.

“All rise.”

The room stood as the judge entered, and all the murmurs died down. The judge settled in his chair, flipping through the case file before glancing up.

“This court is now in session. We are here to hear the case of Arundhati Nair versus Kushal Nair. The petitioner, Mrs. Nair, has filed for divorce on the grounds of a marriage of convenience, lack of emotional commitment, and irretrievable breakdown of the relationship. The respondent, Mr. Nair, contests the divorce and claims the marriage is still salvageable.”

Judge Mehta continued, looking between both parties.

“Before we proceed with the evidence and witness testimonies, we will begin with opening statements. Mrs. Nair, as the petitioner, you may proceed first.”

Arundhati rose to her feet.

“Your Honour, my marriage to Mr. Nair was built on professional convenience rather than personal commitment. It was a decision influenced by his career prospects, and by expectations that had nothing to do with mutual understanding or emotional compatibility.”

She cast a brief glance at Kushal, who was watching her with a maddeningly unreadable expression.

“While I tried to give this marriage a fair chance, it was only after 4-5 months that I got to know why he married me in the first place – for his interest in Verma & Associates law firm. It became evident that it was nothing more than a professional arrangement. Love, companionship, and the foundation of a real marriage were never present. And without that foundation, this marriage is not just unhappy, it is untenable.”

She turned back to the judge.

“Mr. Nair, despite all of this, has refused to sign the divorce papers, dragging out a marriage that has long since ceased to exist. It’s already been nine months since we have been living separately. Today, I will establish that this marriage was never one of genuine commitment and that there is no hope for reconciliation. I request this honourable court to grant me the divorce so that we can both move forward independently.”

With that, she returned to her seat, her heart steady but her blood simmering.

Kushal rose from his seat.

“Your Honour,” he began, “my wife believes that our marriage was built solely on convenience. That there was never anything more to it. That it was a decision made only in the interest of our careers and futures, rather than emotions.”

He let the words sink in, then tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to Arundhati.

“And yet,” he continued, voice dropping just a notch lower, “she spent five months as my wife. Lived in my house. Sat across from me at dinner. Shared my space. And even today, after everything, when I walked into this courtroom, she still looked atmefirst.”

The room stilled.

Arundhati sucked in a sharp breath, anger flaring in her veins as Kushal turned back to the judge.

“My wife has some serious misunderstandings and one-sided beliefs that this marriage is beyond repair. While I don’t claim our marriage was perfect, I refuse to accept that it was nothing at all. I contest this divorce because I believe that walking away from something without fully understanding what it could have been is a mistake. And if my wife is so certain this marriage is beyond repair, I ask her to prove it with more than just words.”

With that, he took his seat.

The judge nodded.

“Very well. We will now proceed with the petitioner’s case. Mrs. Nair, you may call your first witness.”