Chapter 2: Scandals, Barrages, and Broken Ties

My marriage to Priya had been a mistake, but it wasn’t the first one I’d made.

Five years ago, ever since an impoverished intern named Sneha joined the company, my previously smooth life turned upside down.

It was as if someone had done kala jadu on my good luck. From the day Sneha entered, the peon stopped greeting me, the boss stopped nodding approvingly at my PowerPoints, and even the canteen aunty started serving me watery chai. Mum would sigh and say, 'Beta, you have to adjust. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon.'

My childhood sweetheart, who once promised to care for me forever, changed her heart, broke off our engagement at a family function, and left me utterly humiliated.

The sangeet was in full swing—dhol beats thumping, cousins dancing in borrowed sherwanis, the smell of marigold and sweat thick in the air—when Meera pulled me aside and ended things in front of half the mohalla. My uncles stared, my aunties whispered. I felt every pair of eyes burning a hole through my kurta.

Even my doting parents, for the first time ever, sided with Sneha.

I watched, numb, as Ma put her hand on Sneha’s head, murmuring, 'God bless you, beti.' Papa nodded gravely, a sight I never thought I’d see.

Driven mad with jealousy and desperate to prove I wasn’t unwanted, I married Priya—the rumoured cold and ruthless CEO everyone avoided.

The next day, I showed up at Priya’s office in a wrinkled shirt, with my hair still smelling of last night’s whisky, and proposed. She agreed, signing the papers like she was authorising a new budget. People called me crazy, but at least I wasn’t alone.

For three years after our marriage, I clashed with Sneha at every turn, but always lost.

If not stopped by Priya in advance, then by some cruel twist of fate, I’d always end up shooting myself in the foot.

It became a running joke among the office staff: 'Arrey, Rohan is planning something? Sneha will get a promotion for sure.' Priya watched from the sidelines, never saying much, just fixing me with that straight face over her laptop.

Until recently, when my plot to frame Sneha was exposed, and I was completely ruined—friends cutting ties left and right.

Even the family WhatsApp group went quiet, except for the odd forwarded video from Chacha. My so-called best friend Rajesh started posting selfies with Sneha at Barista. My phone felt heavier every time it buzzed.

I knew Priya hated my dirty tricks and favoured Sneha. So instead of waiting for her to kick me while I was down, I figured I’d dump her first—at least I’d look cool.

When I messaged her about the divorce, Priya was in an important board meeting. But she called back almost instantly.

The phone rang barely three seconds later, her voice crisp as a new banknote.

“Reason,” she said, her voice cold through the phone.

I laughed bitterly. “Last time, you didn’t close the bathroom door, and I accidentally saw your... tail. All slippery. It was really disgusting.”

The lie came out sharper than I’d meant. In truth, my voice cracked slightly, but Priya kept her face straight, but her hands gave her away—fingers tightening on the edge of the table. Even now, I could recall the way she’d frozen, her face drained of colour as she rushed out, muttering something about 'medication.'

So now, when I say I ‘can’t leave her,’ not even Priya would believe it. Heck, even I don’t believe it...