Bondita's heart broke into pieces when her Pati Babu married another woman. She stoned her heart and froze her broken heart afterwards.
Would Anirudh realise his mistake? Will he be able to pacify his little wife?
Will the broken hearts ever mend...
The grand hall of Lincoln's Inn was hushed now, emptied of applause and graduates. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting long shards of color across polished stone. She stood alone beneath the arched windows, her black robe flowing like ink around her feet, a soft smile resting at the corners of her lips. The scroll in her hand a silent testament to everything she had become. She traced the embossed gold lettering with her thumb—Bachelor of Laws, University of London. A piece of parchment, yes. But for her, it was something more. It was a promise she had kept to herself.
Seven years.
Seven years since she left behind the smell of sandalwood and betrayal. Seven years since she stood trembling in a house where love had turned into silence. Seven years since she walked away—not weak, but wounded.
And now?
Now the girl was gone.
In her place stood a woman of law, spine straight as scripture, eyes dark with memory and resolve. Her name was no longer whispered in pity or speculation. It was spoken with respect. With caution. She had earned it in courtrooms and libraries, in long nights and longer battles.
Her sari beneath the robe was ivory, silk from home—a quiet rebellion among the sea of Western black. She wore it like armor. Her hair, once braided with flowers, was pulled into a neat, severe bun.
Her robe swept gently with her steps as she walked through the corridor. Her posture was upright, not stiff but practiced.
Outside, London carried its usual chill. But she didn't pull her shawl tighter. She welcomed the cold—it reminded her she was alive, and far from the girl who once stood crying in a room she had to leave behind.
She had forgiven, in silence. Not because it was asked of her, but because she couldn't carry that weight forever. But forgetting? That was another matter.
A classmate called out her name. She turned with a gentle nod, the smile still there, warm, soft, unshaken. It was Raman. A fellow classmate and a familliar friend in the forieng land.
R:- Kidha bhaag rhi ho madam? graduation party me chlna hai na?
Bondita smiled and gently shook her head.
B:- Btaya to tha maine ki mei nhi aa paungi.
R:- Kyu yaar? tere bina maza nhi aega.
Bondita glanced at her bag. In her satchel lay a return ticket to Calcutta. She hadn't stepped foot on Indian soil in years. She missed being home. but she was unsure where her home lay now.
B:- kl subah calcutta ke lie nikalna hai. tayari bhi to krni hai.
R:- Oh right. jaa kr letter jarur likhna. aur haan, mei vapas jaate hi apni preeto se shadi krne wala hu. shadi mein zarur aana bhangda paenge.
Bondita chuckled at her cheeky friend and nodded.
B:- Zarur aungi. tumhe aur tumhari preeto ko advance me congrats.
R:- Congrates se kaam nhi chalega. shaadi me aana to apne barrister babu ko zarur lete ana. hum bhi to mile is mahan atma se...
B:- What?
R:- mera mtlb mahatma se... er...nevermind. bye!
Raman ran off making bondita shake her head. She turned around and walked to her dormitory. Taking off her robe and throwing it on bed along with other stuff. She took down her bun, her long hair cascading down her back.
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