Chapter 6: Accusations and Ultimatums

“Arjun, did you blacklist me? You won’t let me work?” My voice shook as I faced him, the walls closing in.

He sneered. “Meera, stop pretending. Isn’t this what you wanted? To live an easy life as Mrs. Malhotra?”

His words were a slap. The Malhotra name felt heavier than ever.

I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

His eyes narrowed. “After our marriage, I overheard you and your friend. She said you landed a golden bachelor, that you’d get a big settlement in divorce or at least a payout. You didn’t deny it. You just said ‘okay’.”

“Meera, you married me for my money, didn’t you? No wonder you fought the prenup.”

I was stunned—he’d twisted a silly joke into betrayal. I remembered that day: a playful chat over golgappas. He’d turned it into a crime.

“Arjun, we were just joking.”

He wouldn’t listen, his mind already made up. He turned away, jaw set.

“Meera, we’re married, there’s no prenup, you got what you wanted. Why pretend to want a job?”

His words stung deeper than any wound. I clenched my fists, fighting tears.

“Arjun, let’s divorce. I’ll leave with nothing. Will that satisfy you?”

He shot me a cold look. “Can’t wait to get divorced already? Or is this your plan—pretend to leave with nothing so we’ll pay you to keep quiet?”

His suspicion was poison. “I won’t divorce you. Give up.”

For a moment, I felt lost. The clang of the pressure cooker from the kitchen sounded like a distant alarm. Was this really the man I’d loved?

I searched his face, hoping for the Arjun who made me laugh over cold samosas in the library. Instead, his hand trembled around his pen.

“I said, I won’t agree to a divorce. I used to think I could trust you, but it turns out you planned all this from the start.”

After that, everything froze. He refused to let me work, handed me that same ₹10,000 envelope—always tossed onto the table, as cold and untouched as our marriage.

I was Mrs. Malhotra in name only, invisible in my own home.