Chapter 3: The New Bride and Old Grudges

No one outside knew how ugly our breakup was.

Even now, at the reunion, nobody dared mention those days—everyone pretended ours was just another failed college romance. Someone nudged me toward Arjun, teasing, "Boss Arjun used to love Ananya so much he would’ve jumped off the hostel roof for her. How could he let her go?"

Their words sizzled like oil in a frying pan. The old gang, always hungry for drama, egged each other on, their laughter drowning out the pounding in my chest.

Arjun’s friend Kunal shot me a sneer, then declared, "Aye, what kind of nakhre is this? Who is Ananya? Boss Arjun can get any girl, yaar. Why should he still think about her?"

He went on about the woman Arjun had been with for three years.

She was gentler and prettier than me, more suitable for Arjun.

Arjun’s friends called her Bhabhi, saying the wedding was around the corner.

The laughter died down. Only Kunal kept grinning, waving a wedding invitation in the air and tossing it onto my lap.

I looked down and saw Arjun’s name beside another girl’s—Meera.

Meera. The name itself fit a puja thali or a glass office cabin. I thought, she must be more sensible and obedient than I ever was, better at making Arjun happy, less likely to break his heart.

Six years apart, seeing Arjun thriving—that should’ve been enough for me.

I blinked away the tears stinging my eyes, looked up, and forced out, "Congratulations."

Arjun stared at me. At my words, he crushed out his cigarette, his voice suddenly cold: "Ananya, don’t come to the wedding."

"If my wife sees you, she’ll be unhappy. If she’s unhappy, I’ll feel bad."

The maroon invitation trembled in my hand. For a second, I thought I might tear it in half. The letters blurred as my eyes filled. I smiled, nodded, and whispered, "Okay."