Chapter 7: New Beginnings, No Baggage

Discharged from hospital, I returned to my old Mumbai flat—monsoon rain streaking the windows, the flicker of a roadside vada pav stall below. I found my old phone, logged in, and blocked Arjun. I texted Shruti, my lawyer friend: "Divorce petition bana degi?" Her reply: "Of course, Meera. Proud of you."

Within minutes, the papers were ready. Shruti messaged: "Yaar, ab toh milne aa jaa, chai pe! It’s been too long."

I laughed, packing my favourite dupatta and old diaries. I placed the signed divorce agreement on the table and walked out, not looking back. The city buzzed outside—vendors calling, bhajans drifting, the wind sticky with possibility.

I logged into my old Instagram account, five lakh followers waiting. I posted:

"Jaldi se ek naya pati chahiye: sundar ho, baaton ka sikandar ho, khud par control ho, aur purushon ki sab qualities mein full marks ho. Mahine ka ek lakh pocket money, full benefits, jo pehle aaye uska."

This time, I snapped a selfie—wind in my hair, smile unburdened. Caption: "Naye shuruat, bina baggage ke. Let them laugh—this time, I’m laughing too."

My phone exploded with notifications—memes, aunties forwarding rishta jokes, old friends calling: "Pagli, ab toh milne aa jaa, chai pe!"

I was no longer alone. I was free, and the monsoon outside was just the beginning.