This update is not for the Independence Day. Because what kind of freedom are we celebrating in a country where women still have to glance over their shoulders when walking down a lone street? This update is to urge you guys to talk, share and post as much as you can about 2024 Kolkata rape and murder incident. She deserves justice and we, as women, deserve reformed laws that protect us better.

-• under the rainy sky •-

Yuvraaj Singh Chauhan

Monsoon starts with a great vigour in my city. Instead of heads, umbrellas now bobble in public places, displayed in all sorts of colours and sizes. Traffic jams the damp roads early in the mornings.

I drum my fingers on the steering, resting my head back on the seat as I stare ahead at the road in front of me. I should have taken the overpass instead. The municipality stops all the construction work during the rainy season, thus inconveniencing the civilians. I didn't even bring the car that has a royal seal on it. It would have been easier for me to get out of this growing traffic.

Slowly, the traffic clears out and I carefully navigate through the dispersing cars, gradually picking up the speed. A groan escapes me when I hit the red light almost immediately. Pressing on the brakes, I rest my elbow on the window edge, tapping my bottom lip with the back of my index, waiting impatiently for the light to turn green.

Ignoring the pedestrians crossing the road, I lean in to change the radio channel. The woman hosting the show has been constantly rambling about the romantic nature of monsoon season. It's starting to get on my nerves. How pathetic do you have to be that you put on red tinted glasses to view the world's biggest inconvenience as something romantic?

There's nothing romantic about monsoon. It's an annoyance. It makes you sick, is unnecessarily damp and cold, and has nothing to offer except problems and discomfort.

Classical instrumental music fills the small space and I lean back, stopping abruptly when I see her at the red light. Wearing white again, blurring out the rest of the world as she appears like a main protagonist in my line of vision. She throws the silky open locks behind her shoulders, holding the umbrella tightly in her hand while walking across the road. My fingers clench around the steering.

The woman next to her, carrying heavy bags of groceries, slips and loses them to the pull of gravity. Vegetables and fruits scatter around the road. People in the cars next to me express their disapproval and disappointment through grunts and swear words.

Sara stops, hesitates helping, then gives in when one of the school girls squats down to help the poor woman. The three ladies quickly try to clear the area. Caught up in the onslaught of strong winds, she struggles to hold the umbrella, hooking the shaft between her neck and shoulders as she leans to pick up the apples and oranges. But then she tilts her head and the umbrella flies off, landing a few feet away. She glances at it, then at the sky above, and gives up trying to save herself from the rain, instead focusing on picking up the fruits.

Twenty seconds remain. People start honking their horns. Those who know they can't evade them easily shout brazenly from their windows to be faster.

I turn in my place and reach for the umbrella in the backseat, snapping it open after I unlock the door. Rain patters down on the surface of it, sliding down the black canopy in smooth, uncut trails. I close the door of my car and carry my feet towards her. People stop shouting once they see me. She fails to notice the same, distracted by tossing the fruits in the woman's bags. The umbrella in my hand tilts, covering her from the harsh rain. She looks over her shoulder, at the umbrella, then at me and blinks slowly, the heavy lashes wet from the rain.

"Thank you so much!" The lady in distress expresses gratefully, picking up her bags and rushing across the road before the signal can turn green. The school student follows.

Sara gets up, turning around to face me, now sheltered by the umbrella, unlike I whom rain soaks mercilessly. The signal turns green. Cars zoom past us, nobody shouts or honks this time. She wraps her hand around the steel shaft of the umbrella, tilting it back so it covers me.

"You need it more."

Then she walks past me.

I turn around, holding up a hand so the cars stop. They obey. Once she has safely crossed the road, I wave the same hand so they resume going about their day. Crowd steals her out of my sight. She disappears behind hundreds of umbrellas shielding people from the rain. I stuff my hand in the pocket of my trousers, glancing one last time in the direction she disappeared into and head back to my car, closing the umbrella and getting in, continuing on my way to the office.

Strangely, the thought of her doesn't grate on my nerves anymore. She unsettles me still, makes my heart uneasy yes, but do I want to kill her now? No. Not after what I've done to her. I'm rather grateful I've some shame left that facing her makes me queasy and not annoyed. I was in the wrong this time. There's no way around it.

I wish to rebuild that palace and hand it to her, walking out of her life so I can control mine again. It's necessary for us to go separate ways so we don't cause each other anymore troubles. She was never in my fate. The divorce happened because it was meant to be. Not our marriage. She had left me confused and desperate once, I cannot allow her to do the same to me again, especially when she's not obligated to bear the responsibility for my feelings.

Parking my car in the designated spot, I cut off the engine and head towards the elevator. It opens directly in my office, revealing Zoya waiting for me at my desk side. I put my briefcase on the table and pull myself a chair, settling down.

"Did you get wet in the rain again?" She drops her hand holding the iPad, looking at me exasperatedly. I avoid the accusing pair of eyes by focusing on the computer. "What are you? A kid? You got discharged just yesterday!"

"It was inevitable."

"What? Getting soaked in the rain?" She deadpans.

I nod.

"Boss, this is very irresponsible of you. And it is very unlikely of you. Why are you acting like this?"

"I didn't do it intentionally." I look up at her incredulously. "I'm not a highschool kid to lose it at the sight of rain. Something happened, I had to get out of my car and I got wet. That's it."

"I specifically kept two umbrellas in your car for the very same reason. One in the backseat and one in the trunk. You didn't think of using at least one?"

"I used one."

"And you still-"

"What's in my schedule for today?"

She presses her lips together, disgruntled at my attitude. Sighing deeply, she lifts her hand, unlocks the iPad and reads off my schedule from the screen. I've four meetings today, one with the supply management department, another with our newly recruited brokers, and one more with the editorial department of Icon before an exclusive dinner meeting with Mr. Khatri at an Italian restaurant.

I breeze through them all for the entirety of the day. In the early evening, under the incandescent glow of the twilight sky, Zoya drives me to the Italian restaurant where I'm supposed to meet Mr. Khatri. The manager inside escorts us to the private cabin where the other party of the arrangement is already waiting for us. I shake hands with the man. He greets Zoya with a nod before we settle down in the chaise lounge.

We finish speaking regarding the deal in an hour and then order a three course meal to celebrate the occasion.

"Honestly, I was quiet surprised when you expressed your interest in buying the shares. While you're offering nothing more than the market price, but I'd rather deal with a known competitor than an unknown well wisher.

My fork stops scraping against the salad bowl. "Well wisher?"

Mr. Khatri looks up, nodding softly. "Yeah, your brother-in-law suggested someone who was interested in buying the shares from me."

I frown. "Rudra did?"

He nods again, resuming his dinner nonchalantly.

I glance towards Zoya who has stopped eating. She blinks subtly and slips out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. I've a person in my mind but I cannot be too confident. While I know she has a motive that she returned to achieve, I've decided to stop meddling into her affairs henceforth. If the person he's talking about was indeed her then unknowingly I did it again. Which already gives me an ominous feeling.

Zoya returns to the cabin, sits in her previous place and slides a folded paper napkin towards me. I open it discreetly.

It was Sara.

Fuck.

If she gets to know, she wouldn't express her anger openly but I know she'll be seething from inside. Shivam Khatri is Madhav Sehgal's best friend. He has to have some connection with their past. Meeting him under the guise of buying his shares would have been the easiest way to catch his attention.

I messed up again, didn't I?

Should I just call off the deal and leave? But my reputation? I've never cancelled a deal after finalising it. My decision holds an unshakeable influence in the business world. I cannot allow anyone to spread rumours that I'm growing fickle minded. Though I am, but in my personal life, not in my professional life.

"Is the food not of your taste?"

I blink out of the reverie. "No, it's good." I force a smile at him and eat a scoop of my salad, chewing on it half heartedly.

We part ways after dinner.

Zoya drives me to the Veer Mahal.

"Zoya, I think we made a mistake."

"I can tell that by looking at your face."

"Should I just ghost him? Don't attend any of his calls from now on."

"We can't do that. It's not professional." She replies.

"Then let's tell him the deal is off."

"You know he has a loud mouth. He'll humiliate you in his social circle." She sighs.

"How about I say I don't have enough money?" I lean in suggestively.

"You're the second richest man in the Asia."

I fall back on the seat with a thud. "Then let's go AWOL!"

She meets my eyes through the rear view mirror. I grit my teeth and snap my gaze towards the window, chasing the city lights as they glimmer distantly.

My phone starts ringing in my pocket. I fish it out and clear my throat before answering the call. "I know I made a mistake." I say before he can open his mouth and repeat it to me.

"Haven't you fucked up enough?"

"I didn't know!" I snap.

"Now you do. End that deal."

"I can't." I answer. "I want to. But I can't."

"The help that you mentioned? Whatever it is. I'm ready to do. Just end that deal."

"Rudra, c'mon, you cannot blackmail me like that. I've a reputation to maintain in the business world. I've built it with so much hardwork and dedication."

"Why did you approach him in the first place!?" He grunts. "Those two percent shares serve you no purpose!"

"I was going to buy them so I could use them to convince you!"

"Oh my God, sometimes you act like a man without a brain!"

"Did you-" I gasp, "did you just call me dumb?"

"No, I called you brainless."

I clench my jaw. "Same thing, you brat."

"Find a way to get out of this. Only then I'll help you with whatever you need." He hangs up.

I call him again.

"What!?" He barks.

"I hang up first." I quickly hang up and toss the phone aside.

"I did say buying those shares is a stupid decision."

"You said it's not a smart decision."

Her hands fly up dramatically. "Same thing!"

I rest my head back.

Why is it that every time I do something that's one way or the other connected to her, I do it all wrong? I wasn't trying to bother her this time. I don't even want to meet her before I've her palace ready so we can get out of each other's lives peacefully. I was only trying to correct my mistake. Yeah, I was a little desperate, clinging to an illusionary solution and mistaking it to be a ray of hope, but I had no malicious intentions in my heart. I'm not sure she'll think the same.

"Zoya, take me to Elite Enclave." I order.

Her gaze flits to the rear view. "Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Are you sure?"

"Zoya," I address sternly.

She nods and turns right at the next roundabout, driving us to the other end of the city. We reach the housing society in thirty minutes. She cuts off the engine at the gates. "You can go home." I tell her. She exits the car, booking herself a cab back home. I shift to the driver's seat and unlock my phone, opening the contact list where my thumb hovers over her name undecidedly. I take a leap of faith and press call. It rings. And rings and rings. She doesn't pick up. I try again. She doesn't answer.

I send her a text message.

Triumph curls the corner of my lips upward. I clear my throat to compose myself. A few minutes later, I see her exit the main gates, looking around for my car. I turn on the headlights. They glare sharply. She flinches slightly, holding up her arm to shield her eyes.

"Shit," I turn off the headlights immediately. Dropping her arm, she eyes me in irritation, approaching the car with long strides. The door to the passenger seat opens and she slides in. I take an involuntary deep breath. Her scent fills my lungs to the brim. I resist doing it again.

"What is it?"

"I met Mr. Khatri at-"

She sighs loudly. "Yuvraaj, I don't care. They were just shares."

"But you needed them to meet him."

She blinks, speechless for a second.

"I- I mean- I'm not prying into your things-"

She looks ahead and crosses her arms on the chest.

"Look, I cannot pretend I don't know anything just because I've decided to stop prodding into your affairs. But I've nothing to prove my doubts anyway. When I met Mr. Khatri, I had no idea you were willing to buy his shares. I didn't do it to bother you. I'll find a way to get out of this deal. Just give me some time."

"If that's all," she goes to open the door. Rain chooses that time to befall on us. She closes the door immediately, smacking her lips in displeasure.

"I've an umbrella in the trunk of my car." I open my door to get out.

"It's not necessary. I'll manage." She goes to leave when her phone starts blaring. Her attention shifts to the device. Vaidehi flashes on the screen. She answers the call. "Vaidehi, I'll call you-" whatever the woman on the other side days silences Sara abruptly. The colour drains from her face. She swallows. "What?"

"What's wrong?" I ask in worry.

"I'll be there." She hangs up.

"What is it?" I ask again.

"Nothing -" she tries to leave when I grab her hand.

"What is it?"

"Madhav tried to speak."

"What!?" I exclaim in disbelief.

Didn't the doctor say he'll never be able to move? He tried to speak!? How is that possible? My eyes shift to Sara and I see the fear clear as day on her face. I start the car.

We reach Sehgal mansion in the heavy rain. She opens the door to step out. I grab her wrist again. She looks at me impatiently, borderline annoyed. "Compose yourself. I'll give you a minute." Releasing her hand, I exit the car and close the door, waiting for her to fix her appearance. The door opens and she steps out, looking better than before. We step inside the mansion, taking stairs to head to the first floor.

She stops in front of Madhav's room, hesitant to open the door. I do it for her.

Madhav Sehgal lies in the centre of his large bed, struggling to breathe, mouthing breathy words that make no sense. To his close sits his younger brother Karan, nodding in encouragement so the man speaks more than a whisper, while Vaidehi stands at the end of the bed, clutching the end of her nuptial chain, ashen white as she watches the scene unfold. She senses our presence first and looks over her shoulder, her welled up eyes searching Sara's face. The aforementioned woman stands frozen next to me.

Madhav's eyes fall on us.

He starts to hyperventilate.

Karan follows, frowning when he notices us at the doorstep.

"Bhaiya, what happened?" He looks back at his brother. "You were telling me something! What was it?"

Madhav's eyes go wide, veins filling the sclera, his body trembles, as if experiencing a seizure. He tries to raise a shaky arm, unstable index unfurling with a struggle, trying to point towards us, trying to point towards Sara.

But then he suddenly drops it. Eyes avoiding us.

Karan panics. "Bhaiya? Bhaiya, what's wrong? Bhai-"

The man closes his eyes. Succumbs to his death.

"Bhaiya!"

When I look next to me, Sara isn't there, she's inside, a few steps away from me, standing behind Vishal, holding his shoulders firmly, now deadly calm. My breathe hitches when I see her swiftly put back the pocket knife inside her purse. I go stiff in shock.

Sara looks up from Vishal.

Lifeless, hollow, aureate eyes meet mine.

I storm in and grab her wrist, yanking her out of the room as the family grieves their recent loss. I drag her downstairs. She follows wordlessly. We stop outside in the backyard.

"What did you do?" I face her.

"What?"

"Did you-" I take a shaky breathe, "Did you use his child to threaten him?"

She stares into my eyes fiercely, unashamed, rather proud.

"What is wrong with you!?" I close the distance between us, my hands rattling her shoulders.

"Nothing." She shakes her head.

"This is not you, Sara." I grit out.

"Then who was me? The one who lost her mother the day she was born? The one whose sister was burnt alive? The one who couldn't sleep a night without having nightmares? The one who was married off to you forcefully? The one who accepted every misery life threw her way and decided it was her fate to always suffer? The one you regularly humiliated and fought with? I think this one's much better." She shrugs

My heart races, breaks apart, races again with those broken pieces. "How?" I whisper in a quivering voice.

"She no longer feels, Yuvraaj."