Page 6 of Lawfully Yours

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Same Day - 04:00 p.m.

The lobby of Verma & Associates was packed with media personnel, cameras flashing, microphones at the ready. The reporters, journalists, and paparazzi all eagerly waited for the next scandalous headline.

Kushal strode to the lobby, realizing there was no sign of Arundhati yet. He checked his Rolex, his jaw tightening when he saw the time—4:02 PM.

Typical.

She would never take orders from him, would she?

Annoyance flickered through him as he slipped his phone from his pocket, his fingers moving swiftly to dial her number.

The call didn’t connect.

She had blocked him nine months ago when she started living separately. How could he forget that?

Arundhati had cut off all non-essential communication, except for when they were forced to cross paths at the firm.His irritation spiked further as the media personnel outside shifted impatiently, some already lifting their cameras, waiting to capture the moment.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and was about to summon a peon to call her down when the elevator doors slid open.

And there she was. Effortlessly late.Effortlessly breathtaking.

She stepped out, phone pressed to her ear, her face composed, as if she hadn’t just kept him waiting. She hadn’t even looked at him yet, but he felt her presence like a slow burn under his skin. The kind that started subtly, dangerously, before it consumed everything in its path.

For a second, he forgot why he was angry.

Then her gaze lifted, and their eyes locked.

Something always happened when they stared at each other for too long.

A slow, searing pull that neither of them acknowledged, but both refused to break. An undercurrent of something dark, something that never should have existed between two people at war.

And yet, it did.

Every damn time.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he.

His fingers flexed at his sides, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her approach with that same effortless confidence that had once drawn him in—before it had driven him insane.

By the time she reached him, she had wound up her call, slipping the phone into her bag.

“For God’s sake, unblock my number first,” he snapped before she could speak. “We have to communicate for this case.”

“What happened?” she taunted. “Did it hurt your ego to know you are still blocked?”

Kushal’s nostrils flared. “I don’t have time for your games, Arundhati.” He turned away from her with irritation. “Just unblock me.”

She fell into step beside him as they walked toward the glass doors leading to the media crowd outside.

“Fine,” she said, eyes fixed ahead. “But try keeping the communication professional. If you send me anything remotely personal, anything about our own divorce drama, I swear I’ll block you again.”

His teeth gritted.

But now wasn’t the time to fight about them.

The moment they stepped outside, blinding flashes erupted, and a dozen microphones extended toward them, journalists shouting over one another.