Chapter 2: The Agreement

The day I agreed to the divorce was just an ordinary afternoon.

It was the kind of hot, sticky day when the overhead fan does nothing and sweat clings to the back of your neck. I’d just finished folding clothes when I decided, enough – today’s the day. I dialled Arjun’s number, hands only slightly trembling.

I dialled Arjun’s number, but the one who answered was Priya.

The first time I heard her voice on the line, I felt my stomach drop – that sickening rush of jealousy and humiliation. But today, there was only a hollow numbness.

"Hello?"

"I’m looking for Arjun."

There was a short pause, followed by a slight smirk I could sense even over the phone.

"He’s taking a shower. If you have anything to say, just tell me."

Her voice was as charming and bold as ever, full of ownership and pride.

I could almost imagine her twirling her hair as she spoke, probably pacing barefoot on Arjun’s cool marble floors, the air conditioner humming in the background. Not a hint of apology or hesitation – as if she had every right to answer his calls.

If it had been before, I would have screamed, hysterically demanding Priya get lost so I could speak to Arjun.

In those early months, I’d lost count of the number of times I’d yelled at her, called her names, threatened her with everything from curses to police complaints. My throat would ache from crying, my dignity dissolving with every desperate plea.

But now, I knew very well—only Priya could find him.

The realisation stung for a long time, but now it only made me tired. I felt like an outsider in my own story, watching another woman direct the script.

I couldn’t let her hang up on me like before, leaving me alone like a madwoman.

The memory of those one-sided conversations – endless, ringing phone lines, unanswered WhatsApp messages turning from blue ticks to grey – it still hurt, but today, I was determined not to lose control.

"Didn’t he say before that he wanted a divorce? I agree."

My voice came out cool, even. It surprised even me—like a judge pronouncing a verdict.

I said what I needed to, calmly.

Priya was silent for a second, then repeated in disbelief,

"You agreed to the divorce?"

Her voice faltered, just a bit. I could almost hear her shifting the phone from one hand to another, as if uncertain whether she’d won or lost.

"Mm."

As soon as I finished speaking, I heard some shuffling sounds.

It sounded like the phone being passed quickly, a few murmured words in the background. Maybe Arjun had emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung around his neck, water dripping onto the floor.

The phone must have been taken by Arjun.

Soon, his low, indifferent voice sounded in my ear.

"It’s me."

He didn’t say hello, didn’t bother with any formalities. It was just that cold, flat tone I’d grown so used to.

I knew.

Hearing his voice, I felt a little dazed. After all, ever since he’d moved out of the flat half a year ago to be with Priya, we hadn’t contacted each other at all.

I remembered the day he left – his suitcase bumping against the threshold, the silence that settled after the front door slammed shut. Since then, my flat had felt emptier than ever, his slippers still by the door, untouched.

The last thing he said to me back then was:

"Meera, let’s divorce. If you won’t agree, I’ll move out and file a case."

He’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if discussing what to have for dinner, not tearing apart years of life together.

Now, half a year had passed. I’d given in.

The ache had dulled to a persistent throb, no longer the sharp agony it once was.

"Priya said you want to divorce me?"

Seeing I was silent, Arjun spoke first. He probably said this with a frown, his tone tinged with confusion.

I pictured his face – that slightly furrowed brow, lips pressed into a thin line. It struck me as absurd: after everything, now he was confused?

I didn’t even understand where his confusion came from. Wasn’t he the one who brought up the divorce?

The irony wasn’t lost on me. All those months of silence, and now he acted like I was the unpredictable one.

But now, I didn’t want to argue with him about who started it.

There was no point keeping score anymore – we had both lost too much already.

I gave a soft reply.

"If you have time, let’s meet and sign the divorce agreement."

After that, I hung up.

My hand trembled slightly as I placed the phone back on the table. For the first time in ages, I felt strangely light.