Journey of two broken souls.
ADHIRAJ RANA -future CM of Rajasthan and king of Udaipur
Dr. TRANIKA RAJVANSH- IAS officer
"I am your fucking wife, Adhiraj, treat me like one," I said, my voice shaking with emotion. "The wife you forced into this mar...
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The pictures Mahima had shown me were burned into my mind. Tranika, my wife, with another man.
I couldn't believe my eyes, but I needed answers. I couldn't let this pass—not after all the lies, the silence, and the distance.
I knew Tranika too well—her strength, her pride. To get the truth out of her, I had to strip her of both. I needed her to break, to shatter so completely that the truth would spill from her lips, whether she wanted it to or not.
That's why I stopped the NGO work. That building, that cause, meant the world to her. It was her sanctuary, her pride. If she didn't explain herself today, I would destroy it. And if she couldn't give me a satisfactory answer, I would destroy her.
"Sir, the papers," my lawyer said, placing the divorce documents in my hands.
I stared at them. Divorce.
I wasn't going to go through with it—not yet. But this was my weapon, my leverage. If Tranika couldn't explain the pictures, if she didn't prove to me that I wasn't some fool being played, I would leave her.
But deep down, the thought of leaving her made my chest tighten. She wasn't just my wife. She was the woman who would bear my children, the mother of my legacy. And I would not allow my children to be raised by a woman like her.
I folded the papers and shoved them into my jacket pocket.
When I arrived at the NGO building, Mahima Chaudhary was already waiting for me.
This woman had crossed her limits. How dare she show me those pictures? How dare she try to manipulate me into believing her? And worse, how dare she propose marriage?
"Hello, Mr. Rana," she said with a smug smile, her voice too sweet for the venom it carried.
I didn't reply. My jaw clenched, my fists curling at my sides. I wasn't here to entertain her games. I was here for the truth.
I leaned against my car, arms crossed, and waited.
Waited for her.
And then she came.
I saw the sleek black car approach, its engine roaring softly as it came to a halt in front of the NGO building. The door opened, and she stepped out.
Tranika.
She wore a black suit, her blazer draped over her shoulders like a queen's mantle. High black heels clicked against the pavement as she walked, her long, straight hair cascading down her back.
She was bold. Beautiful. Unshaken.
This wasn't the woman I had spent days emotionally cornering. This wasn't the fragile, broken person I had tried to push into submission.
This was the old Tranika Rajvansh.
For a moment, I felt a flicker of fear.
Her aura carried so much power, it was almost suffocating. This wasn't someone you could intimidate or manipulate. This was someone who could burn you alive if you weren't careful.
