She divorced me looking at my property,

parties, passed around like cold wine in hushed tones. "Did you hear? S

here

account full enough, the cracks in your soul will magically fill themselves. I can tell you

re in Hyderabad, and after a few high-profile projects, I became the golden boy of luxury real estate. My friends called me the "Modern Maharaja.

rrived-Kia

a real estate investor's dinner, though she wasn't technically part of the industry. Her uncle was, and she was visiting from Mumbai. She stood by the open bar, si

ntrigu

lieve in glass houses?" I asked, gesturing to the massive

y if the people living in t

didn't. I liked

with. When I asked her what she did, she said she was "between truths"-a poetic way of saying she was still figuring life out. I told her I had it

together, sometimes talk until the sun came up. She'd sit on the ledge of my balcony, feet dangling, asking me strange, bea

urse. I didn't see the t

gether when she said it. "Ayaan,

. God help me,

tasteful, small. I didn't want to show off. My father always said, "The more private the love, the stronger it grows." H

folds. She wore a white and gold saree, no diamonds, no extra ornaments. Just

ife. But even then, a small, nagging voice

ch

o love you. Some want to leave a mar

in every dream we painted that night. She said she wanted to help me build, to be part of my world. She

property "for investment safety." Or when she wanted me to add her name as a partner on Mehra Designs "to help with

ed thre

g wallpaper peel. Subtle shifts. Her touch got colder, her eyes drifted more often toward her p

"Shouldn

swer ha

. No confrontation. Just an envelope

ands. She wanted the Hyderabad penthouse, joint ownership of the Dubai property to

again and again, thinking it had to be a joke. Some cruel prank. But

Her number was blocked. He

wasn't interested in speaking. "This is a clean legal

tio

all I h

t first. I spiraled. I went into hiding. Stopped showing up to meetings. Ignored emails. I drank

orst

med m

money. If my success had overshadowed my love. If somewhere along t

th? She nev

me. The architect. T

he portrait, she tore the canvas