His diary and her love

Prologue and author's note

Tara's POV

My hand was steady, clutching the spoon between my thumb and index finger, ready to swirl it in the glass of juice. I watched as a small twirl formed, its spiraling motion reminding me of the storm that had upended my life three years ago.

Back then! Before three years, my hand wasn't holding a spoon but a pen. I wasn't sitting in an exam hall but in a sub-registrar's office. Hours earlier, I wore a vibrant red bridal attire for a wedding I hadn't chosen. I had just turned eighteen.

My mother was on her deathbed, and my family, desperate to fulfill her last wish, arranged my marriage without even consulting me. As I stared at the marriage document, the weight of the pen in my hand felt unbearable. My heart pounded in my chest. Every beat of my heart reminded me of the decision that would change my life.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the panic. I felt trapped, suffocated by the expectations surrounding me. Then, a sharp sound of fingers snapping broke through the silence, jolting me back to reality. My eyes flew open.

There he was—my childhood rival, my secret teenage crush—Ishaan Divan, standing before me. He was dressed entirely in black, a sharp blazer, perfectly tailored pants, and polished leather shoes. It was so him to show up like this.

Who wears all black to a wedding?

I tried to focus on the document in front of me, but my gaze kept drifting to the line where his signature already graced the paper with elegant and bold handwriting. If I signed, I would become Mrs. Ishaan Divan.

"Enough of daydreaming, Sign the papers," his voice cut through the room, low and commanding. 

"I don't have all day." He added adjusting his blazers

I glanced at my mother. She lay weak, her breathing labored, but her lips curved into a smile. That smile—the first I'd seen in months after so much pain—made my heart ache. It was enough to break my resistance. I had to do this for her.

The pen moved smoothly across the paper, sealing my fate. My wedding, which I had once dreamed of as a grand celebration, was reduced to this—a quiet, emotionless ceremony attended by only a handful of people.

As the formalities concluded, I exited the office with my new husband, who was walking ahead of me.

"Take her to the mansion," he instructed his security guards, his tone cold and detached. "I have a meeting."

He didn't look at me.

He didn't speak to me.

Was he even aware that I was now his wife?

"Ishaan," I called out as he reached his car, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

He paused but didn't turn around. "Do as I say," he said, his voice icy. "We'll talk when there's something worth saying." He spoke hoarsely.

The sharpness of his words stung more than I'd expected. Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me standing alone in a new reality I wasn't ready to face.

The memory faded as Dhruv, my childhood best friend, plucked the juice glass from my hand.

"Hey, snap out of it!" he shouted, trying to be heard over the blaring jazz music. "You're divorcing that ogre in thirty days. This party's for you, remember?"

I managed a fake smile. My wedding had been simple and understated, but my divorce—just thirty days away—was turning into a grand celebration, whether I liked it or not.

  ✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Dearest Readers,

Thank you for choosing to dive into my story! Before we begin, there are just a few things I'd like to mention-

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sweety27