Ranjish

chapter 57 /??

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Sagar's words landed with the weight of a falling stone.

Without ceremony, he slid a stack of papers across the table, the crisp shuffle of paper sounding louder than it should have in the quiet room.
Kanak stared at them.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Divorce papers.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, the breath in her lungs catching as she tried to process what was right in front of her. Her mind reeled, a storm of confusion and heartbreak swelling within her chest. She hadn't seen it coming—not like this. Not so sudden. Not so... final.

Across the table, Vikram's reaction was more controlled, but no less intense. He gripped his spoon tightly, the metal creaking slightly under the pressure of his hand. His knuckles whitened, the veins in his arm taut with restrained emotion.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
But his silence said more than words ever could.

Sagar, standing at the head of it all, flicked a glance at Vikram—quick, calculating. He saw the shift. The crack in the mask.

Kanak forced herself to speak, though her voice trembled like a leaf in the wind.

"I'll sign them after dinner."

The words hung in the air, heavy as lead. No one responded. No one moved. The atmosphere in the room had turned unbearably dense, as if grief itself had pulled up a chair at the table.

Kanak tried to continue eating, but the food on her plate had lost all meaning. Her eyes drifted to Vikram again.
To the way he wouldn't look at her.
To the way his silence screamed.

The silence of the night was almost sacred.

Kanak sat alone on the balcony, her bare feet tucked beneath her, the divorce papers trembling slightly in her hands. The city lay hushed below her, lights flickering in distant windows, unaware of the storm raging quietly in her chest.

Above, the stars sparkled with careless beauty—cold, distant, eternal.

She stared at the papers, the printed words swimming on the page. Legal terms. Dates. Signatures. It was all there in black and white. But none of it made sense anymore. None of it felt real.

Not compared to the weight in her chest.

Not compared to the way Vikram's eyes had darkened when Sagar placed the documents on the table.

She could still see it—that flicker of something. It wasn't shock. It wasn't anger. It was... sorrow. Or maybe longing. Maybe something else entirely.

Why would it matter to him? if he dont remember anything.........

The thought looped endlessly in her head.

He had been distant for so long. Cold, even. Like the past between them was just a shadow neither of them wanted to walk through. But today—today had cracked that armor, even if just for a moment.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the papers, but she didn't move to sign. Not yet.

The wind whispered through the trees, soft and insistent, carrying the scent of night jasmine and something older—something unspoken.

Kanak leaned back in her chair, eyes searching the stars, as if they might offer an answer. Instead, they offered silence.

But in that silence, the night seemed to speak in riddles.

Of memories buried and half-remembered.
Of glances held too long.
Of words unsaid.
Of love—lost, forgotten, or simply misunderstood.

And Kanak, still clutching the papers, wondered if it was too late to understand what Vikram wasn't saying.

The morning light spilled across the marble floor, cold and indifferent, as Kanak walked into the study. In her hands were the papers—signed, sealed, final.

She handed them to Sagar without a word.

He took them with a nod, not looking at her, not thanking her. Just folded them back into the folder like it was any other document. But Vikram, seated on the edge of the nearby couch, didn't hide his reaction.

His eyes snapped to her, sharp with disbelief. Then he looked away just as quickly, jaw tightening, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

She didn't expect a protest.
She didn't want one.
But part of her still felt the sting.

The silence dragged on too long before Vikram finally spoke, his voice low and clipped.
"I'm healthy now," he said. "I want to leave this house."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request. It was a statement, final and firm.

Sagar straightened slightly, his face calm, but his tone carried weight.
"Wait two more days," he said. "It's Kanak's birthday."

The words landed like a slap in the room.

Kanak looked up, surprised by the mention. She hadn't expected anyone to remember—least of all Sagar. Vikram, on the other hand, went still. His fists clenched at his sides, his mouth a tight line.

His gaze flicked toward her, just briefly.

Then, with visible restraint, he gave a stiff nod.
"Fine."

But the tension didn't leave his body. It clung to him like a shadow. Even as he stood and walked out of the room, Kanak could feel the storm still raging behind his calm exterior.

He would stay.
But he wasn't at peace.
And neither was she.

Somewhere, tangled beneath the anger and silence, were feelings neither of them could quite name—let alone face.