PART EIGHT
Abhira's heart pounded with nervous anticipation as she arrived at the Udaipur courthouse. She was unable to shake off the restless energy that pulsed through her veins. With each passing moment, her mind wandered to Armaan – how was he faring in the wake of their separation? What had become of him in the year since they last parted ways?
Questions swirled in her mind like a tempest, each one tugging at the edges of her consciousness with relentless force. It was clear that there had been a rift between the Poddars and Armaan, because he was no longer a part of the firm. Where was he living now? What had become of his career, his aspirations, his dreams?
Inevitably almost, her thoughts drifted to Armaan's personal life, even as she tried to stop herself... she reminded herself that she had never been his wife, except in name, and soon, they would no longer be bound by the confines of marriage and their relationship would be reduced to mere remnants of what once was. And yet, despite her best efforts to quell the rising tide of emotions, she couldn't help but wonder if, after breaking up with Ruhi, he had found solace in the arms of another. The thought gnawed at her insides, a painful reminder of the fragile threads that still connected them, despite her best efforts to sever all ties.
Chiding herself for indulging in such thoughts, Abhira forced herself to focus on the task at hand – the impending divorce hearing that would set things in motion and determine the fate of their relationship. There was only one acceptable outcome, she sternly reminded herself: divorce. She was standing on the threshold of a new chapter in her life, and she alone held the power to shape her own destiny. She could choose to bind herself once more in a relationship which had wounded her self-respect, or she could set herself free.
Armaan did not matter to her, she repeated to herself. He was nothing to her, kuch nahin.
And yet, she had taken hours to decide on what she would wear on that day. The crisp, tailored pinstripe pantsuit she had landed on, had been meticulously chosen, as a way to exude the power and confidence she wanted to project. Every detail, from her meticulously styled hair to the subtle elegance of her accessories, was aimed at affirming to herself, and to Armaan, that she was doing well for herself, that she had moved past the pain he had inflicted upon her.
Despite her best efforts to dismiss it, a small part of Abhira's mind couldn't help but entertain the fleeting thought – would Armaan find her attractive? The realization that Armaan had continued to harbor feelings for Ruhi, despite being married to her, had stirred a sense of insecurity within Abhira. She found herself questioning whether her own appearance measured up to Ruhi's stunning beauty.
But as quickly as the thought arose, Abhira admonished herself for indulging in such superficial concerns and pushed aside her petty insecurities. She was there for the divorce hearing, not to seek validation from Armaan or anyone else. As she walked across the compound of the courthouse, she reminded herself that her worth could not be defined by anyone else's perceptions.
Lost in her contemplations, she nearly collided with someone. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up and found herself face to face with Armaan. Those very same green eyes. Treacherous terrain, she had to remind herself.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. For a fleeting instant, Abhira's composure wavered as a surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Memories of their shared past flooded her mind, along with the unresolved feelings that still lingered beneath the surface.
But with a determined effort, Abhira composed herself, forcing her racing heart to steady and her expression to remain neutral. She offered Armaan a brief nod of acknowledgement before swiftly moving past him, unwilling to dwell on the momentary interruption.
"Abhira?" Armaan called out gently from behind her.
That very same voice. It had been so long.
Abhira turned. "Yes?"
Her face betrayed none of the stirrings that she felt. She was the perfect picture of the consummate professional, clinical in her dealings. Well-rehearsed.
"It's good to see you," he said, his voice constricted by emotion, struggling to believe that she was truly there, before his eyes. It had been so long.
Relief flooded him as he took in her appearance — she appeared well, one might say, outwardly at least. Yet, a longing stirred within him, for she seemed just as distant as before. He missed the warmth of her smile, which now felt like a distant memory.
"How have you been?" she asked, perfunctorily. As if she did not care. As if she had not spent the last year wondering about his whereabouts, his well-being.
"Fine," he replied. It was clear that he had lied. "And you?" he asked.
"Fine."
Another lie.
And they parted, until it was time for them to meet again, before the Family Judge, Justice Chopra, in his chambers.
Justice Chopra was a stern yet compassionate figure, his countenance weathered by the numerous cases he had presided over throughout his career. His eyes, though weary, held a discerning intelligence that seemed to pierce through the facades of those who stood before him. He surveyed the pair with a keen eye, observing the subtle tension and undercurrent of unresolved feelings between them, before he began to speak.
"Good afternoon. Please have a seat. I'll be asking a few questions to better understand the situation. Let's start with the basics. I see that you have both chosen to represent yourselves and not retain the services of lawyers. I have studied your file, your papers appear to be in order. Can you both confirm that you are seeking a divorce by mutual consent?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Armaan and Abhira said together.
"And can you briefly explain the reasons behind this decision?" the Judge probed further.
Abhira took a deep breath before responding. "Our marriage has irretrievably broken down, Your Honor. We've both come to the realization that we cannot continue our relationship."
"And yet, you had chosen to get married to each other?" the Judge enquired. Despite having heard countless cases, the notion that a union once forged in love could come to the point of divorce still struck him as unfortunate.
"No," Abhira said, "It was not our choice. It was the dying wish of my mother that we get married to each other."
"You were coerced?" the Judge addressed Armaan.
"No, Your Honor" Armaan said firmly, "I willingly accepted to take Abhira's responsibility, to take care of her and protect her. It has never been a burden for me to do whatever needed to be done for her well-being."
The Judge did not miss the tenderness in his eyes. He turned to Abhira, "And did he falter in his responsibilities towards you?"
"No, Your Honor" Abhira conceded before continuing, "But a marriage has to be based on more than just responsibilities. There could never be any love between us, because Armaan loved another person, from before the time that we got married."
The Judge sighed imperceptibly as he made a note in his papers - infidelity.
Abhira caught sight of the note and felt a surge of indignation rise within her at the Judge's presumptuous assumption of infidelity. Armaan was a man of principle, she thought fiercely. He had never strayed from their marriage vows, nor had he engaged in an extramarital affair with Ruhi. Yes, he had harbored feelings for Ruhi before their marriage, but loving someone was not a crime. It was unreasonable to expect him to erase those feelings completely after he had gotten married. It was true that he had hidden his feelings for Ruhi from Abhira, and he had failed to draw boundaries with Ruhi. But the complexities of their equation could not be boxed under the stereotypical label of infidelity.
"Not infidelity," Abhira blurted out, and the Judge raised an eyebrow at her.
"My apologies, Your Honor," Abhira said, remembering to maintain decorum, "I did not mean to speak out of turn."
The Judge nodded, acknowledging the apology. "Please continue," he said.
"If I may," Abhira said, her words measured, "What I mean to say is that Armaan never cheated on me. His fault was that he was not completely honest with me about his past, and that he allowed this other person to interfere in our marriage, time and again."
"And why, may I ask, did he allow this other person to interfere in your marriage, if he was not having an extra-marital affair with her?" the Judge asked.
The words left Abhira's lips of their own accord, "It was complicated. There had been a misunderstanding between them, during which her marriage was arranged with his brother. When the misunderstanding was cleared, he encouraged her to marry his brother, because he felt duty-bound towards his family and put his brother's happiness ahead of his own. When she was left alone, her husband having been presumed dead after an accident, he felt a sense of responsibility towards her, to restore happiness in her life. While he never crossed the line with her, he was unable to draw boundaries when she did. When she interfered in our marriage and our lives, he was unable to put her in her place. All because he has this compulsive need to please everyone and look out for their happiness, even at the cost of his own. He could not simply throw her out of his life, even if he no longer felt the same for her. Instead, he kept trying to navigate the two relationships and fulfilling his relationships towards me, towards her, towards his family, thinking that he could juggle through it all without hurting anyone. Eventually, he did break things off with her, but as far as our marriage goes, it was too late by then."
Armaan looked over at Abhira in surprise. Her words, several of them, had been taken from the email that he had written to her, the email that, clearly, she had read after all. The rest of her words came from her own assessment of his character, and he was astonished, and also strangely comforted, that she had been able to read him so well.
The Judge's lips curved ever so slightly. "Mr Poddar," he turned to Armaan, "Are you sure you did not retain the services of a lawyer to represent you?"
Abhira flushed deep red, but Armaan spoke up.
"Your Honor, Miss Sharma's words are only testament to the depth of her compassion and empathy. I have wronged her in failing to show her the respect that she deserved. We have given this decision a lot of thought and believe it's in the best interest of both parties. Miss Sharma has a stellar career ahead of her, and she should not continue to be bound by a marriage that she had never wanted in the first place, and that gave her so much pain."
The Judge leaned forward, his gaze shifting between Armaan and Abhira with a mix of concern and deliberation. "Miss Sharma, Mr Poddar," he began, his voice measured, "I must admit, your testimony, both of you, has given me pause. While it is evident that there have been significant challenges in your marriage, I cannot dismiss the thought that there may still be hope for reconciliation."
The Judge paused, his gaze lingering on the pair as he weighed his next words carefully.
"I urge you both to reconsider your decision carefully," he continued, his tone gentle yet firm. "Take some time to reflect on whether you've truly exhausted all possibilities for reconciliation before proceeding. This hearing will be adjourned. Before we conclude, do either of you have anything else to add?"
"Your Honor," Abhira said, "There can be no reconciliation in a loveless marriage."
"Miss Sharma," the Judge said kindly, aware that her words came from a place of pain, "The Court is not forcing you to stay married or to even stay together. But it is the Court's duty to ascertain that the marriage has indeed irretrievably broken down before proceeding. We do not take either marriages or divorces lightly."
Before she or Armaan could react, the Judge had stood up. Armaan and Abhira quickly stood up as well and bowed before him, as the Court usher announced the next date for the case, two months away.
As they walked out, Armaan could not shake the nagging doubt that perhaps the Judge's reservations echoed his own inner turmoil. Meanwhile, Abhira's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, dissecting every moment of the hearing. If only she had controlled her badbad-gadbad tendencies... How could she get carried away like that? And in front of a Judge, no less!
"Can we talk?" Armaan's voice broke through the tumult of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment.
She would have suggested the same, "Yes, we need to work together to ensure that the divorce is granted."
Armaan's heart sank at the resolve and finality in her tone. "That's what you want?" he asked.
"Is that not what you want?" she asked back.
"I want you to be happy," he replied simply.
"I want a divorce," she said softly, fighting back tears. There was so much more she wanted to say, but she had practised burying her feelings and thoughts for such a long time, that words failed her. Perhaps that was why when she did find her voice before the Judge, her words had spilled forth in a torrent, an overflow of pent-up emotions unleashed all at once.
Armaan's gaze softened with concern as he observed Abhira, recognizing the signs of inner turmoil written across her face. With a gentle gesture, he guided her towards a nearby bench, understanding that she was overwhelmed and needed a moment to collect herself. It was evident to him that Abhira's silence wasn't merely a lack of words but a reflection of the intricate battle within her — a tug-of-war between her desire to express herself and the difficulty she faced in putting her thoughts and emotions into words.
Abhira did not resist. Sitting beside Armaan, she found solace in the quietness that enveloped them, offering a brief respite from the turmoil raging within her.
Several minutes passed before Abhira finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "Our marriage," she began hesitantly, "was never a real marriage. The nameless relationship we shared was... nothing. It could not be friendship if you felt you could not share your innermost feelings with me. It could not be love if I felt like a burden in your life."
"Did I make you feel like a burden?" Armaan asked.
"No, but Ruhi..." Abhira's words faltered as she remembered the countless times Ruhi had taunted her.
"Ruhi should never have come between us," Armaan conceded, "That was my fault. But would you believe me if I told you that I did not share her opinion of your place in my life?"
Abhira changed the subject, "I messed up today before the Judge, didn't I? I don't know what came over me."
Armaan shook his head, "The Judge said that he had doubts after hearing both us. As for you defending me, that's just who you are, Abhira. Your courage to speak the truth always, your inability to stand down and watch as something you don't agree with is happening... these are your greatest strengths. Thank you for standing up for me. I was very touched."
Abhira's breath caught as she struggled to contain her emotions, tears welling up in her eyes. "You say this now," she said haltingly, between sobs, her voice trembling with pent-up anguish, "But when I was at Poddar mansion, I was made to feel that I was always wrong... Questions were raised on my upbringing, on my mumma's values. I was taunted for not having a family. And still, shamelessly, I stayed. I should have left long before. Nothing can be more important than my self-respect. I have realized that now, and I have no intention of turning back."
Armaan listened in silence, his heart heavy with the magnitude of Abhira's words and the ocean of pain that lay beneath them. Each of her words pierced through his own guilt, laying bare the enormity of his mistakes and faults. He felt a surge of regret wash over him for having failed to protect her from the cruelty of his family.
"I can only apologize for what my family said to you, and for the part that I played in failing to protect you," he confessed, his voice heavy with regret. "I don't need to tell you that they were wrong... that Akshara ma'am was an exemplary person, a person of unwavering integrity and moral fortitude beyond reproach. What I could not learn from her as a student, I learnt from you. You inspired in me the courage I needed to stand by my principles and live a life where I would be true to myself. To this day, when at a crossroad, I stop and ask myself, what would Abhira do... I admire and respect you deeply, Abhira. And for that reason, I will do everything in my power for you to be happy. If your happiness lies in the divorce, so be it."
For a long time, Abhira said nothing as she fought to quell the rising tide of sobs that threatened to break free from the confines of her chest.
When she finally composed herself, she found herself smiling, for the first time in days, as a semblance of solace washed over her.
"Thank you," she said, before she wiped her tears and got up to leave.
"Abhira," Armaan called as she was leaving, causing her to stop momentarily, "I am not saying this for you to forgive me, or to change your mind. But I really am sorry for everything, and I promise you, I will do everything in my power to mend what I have broken. If I stayed away from you this past year, it was only because I wanted to give you the space and time that you needed to heal. I did not want to cause you any more pain than I already had, and that is why I told you in that email, that you could reach out whenever you felt up to it. I am and will always be there for you. All you need to do is turn around."
Abhira turned, meeting Armaan's gaze with tenderness and understanding, as she said, "You can stop apologizing and beating yourself up, Armaan. What's done is done. I have moved on, and you should as well."
With a final nod, she turned away once more, her steps steady as she moved forward, leaving behind the echoes of their conversation. Despite her outward composure, a part of her heart still held onto the memories of their shared past, the laughter and the tears, the friendship and companionship. She couldn't deny the impact he had on her life, nor could she ignore the lingering traces of affection that remained. But she masked these sentiments with a serene smile, concealing her own pain for the sake of closure and moving forward.
Minutes later, as she was leaving the compound of the courthouse, her phone pinged. It was an email confirmation from her university that her request for community service placement at a legal aid clinic in Delhi had been approved. Taking a deep breath, she refocused her thoughts on the myriad tasks and the long path ahead of her, determined to prove herself and fulfill her dreams. She couldn't afford to dwell on the past.
..........
Part Nine
Edited by whimsical - 5 months ago
I would not want the story to become Armaan-centric either, so I will be mindful of that. Thank you once again!
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