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𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕
Varun admitted to orchestrating my wife's fake death, and I did something which he deserved, I punched him in the face. But the infuriating part was his smug reaction even after that punch.
But he told me how my wife asked a favor from him. And the favor was to make sure I stayed safe.
Abhimaan has become noticeably quieter, often getting upset over minor things. In plain terms, he's gone mad. The usual smiles and carefree expressions are absent; instead, he wears a constant stoic face. It's strange and unsettling to witness this drastic shift in his behavior for the first time.
Kabir's behavior has taken a peculiar turn, becoming even more difficult to grasp than before. He was already weird before but now he has crossed all limits of his weirdness.
I've officially started living in my car parked in front of my wife's parents' house. It's been five days since she talked to me. Living in this cramped car feels pretty dumb, but love tends to make you do the silliest things, and I guess I'm the champion of stupid decisions because I'm madly in love with my wife.
If it means I have to stay in this car forever for her, I'm willing to do so. Even though I'll keep cursing this darn car in a thousand ways – let's face it, it's not the most comfortable place to be.
She didn't send me those divorce papers because I made sure that no fucking lawyer in this city can arrange those stupid and useless divorce papers. It was easy.
I've been in this car for five days. My wife probably thinks I don't notice her watching me from her bedroom window secretly. She cooks for me, and her sister-in-law, Roop, brings me the food. Roop is currently my favorite person in this Rajvansh family, cheering me on daily.
I started calling her Roop because she suggested it. Every morning, Roop brings me coffee made by my wife, and I give her flowers with a note for my wife.
"Good morning, Vivaan," Roop's voice interrupts my thoughts.
She stands there with a coffee mug and a small smile.
"Good morning," I nodded at her.
"I hope you are doing okay," she said, and I nod again.
"Here's your coffee," she hands me the cup.
"Thank you," I replied, passing her a bouquet of flowers.
"You can come inside if you want. This car must be uncomfortable," she suggested, but I shake my head.
I don't want Anaya to feel pressured because of my presence.
