𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆- 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆

𝟓𝟐. 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒

Author's Pov

The restaurant was quiet, the soft hum of families chatting filling the warm air.

Vidya sat in the corner booth, glancing at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time. What’s taking him so long? she wondered.

Today, Randhir had invited her for dinner — a quiet celebration, as he put it  to mark the end of his marriage and freedom from Kanishka’s false allegations of abuse.

She reached into her handbag, searching for her phone, when she saw him striding toward her — tall, confident, a familiar warmth in his smile. Dressed in a simple navy-blue polo and cargos, he looked nothing like the polished prince the public knew.

That smile, the one he only reserved for his family, never for cameras or crowds.

He slumped into the seat opposite her with a sigh of relief, waving at the waiter. “I’m starving. Those reporters can suck the life out of anyone,” he muttered.

Vidya chuckled softly. “Press conference went that bad?”

“Worse,” he groaned, mimicking a reporter’s voice. “‘Randhir sa, are you planning to remarry?’ or ‘Can you still rule after a divorce?’ — idiots! I'd rather die than remarry.”

Vidya smiled faintly. “You handled it well, I’m sure.”

He shrugged, “Tried to. But honestly, bhabhi sa, since Jay bhai left the throne, things haven’t been the same.”

Their conversation drifted from politics to family — to Mrityunjay, to his work, and his sudden visit to Delhi. Dinner passed with quiet laughter and easy silences, the kind that felt like family.

When it was time to leave, Randhir wiped his mouth, then looked at her earnestly.
“Bhabhi sa… wapas aa jaiye. Do saal ho gaye. Haveli bohot khaali lagti hai aap dono ke bina.”

Vidya’s eyes softened, her voice low. “Jay nahi manega, Randhir.”

“Aap manayengi toh maan jayenge,” he pressed.

She shook her head gently. “Hum use manana nahi chahte. Jab bhi haveli ki baat aati hai, wo udaas ho jaata hai… aur hum use udaas nahi dekh sakte.”

Randhir leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Aur humari udaasi ka kya, bhabhi sa? Do saal se chup hai hum… socha time sab sahi kar dega, par kuch sahi nahi hua. Agar koi sab sahi kar sakta hai, toh wo aap hai.”

Vidya exhaled deeply, then said quietly, “Thik hai. Hum koshish karenge. Par ek shart hai — agar tum Rajgaddi par baithoge tabhi.”

Randhir froze, his jaw tightening. “Hum us jagah apni parchhai bhi nahi padne denge, jaha Jay bhai ka adhikaar ho.”

He stood, bowing respectfully to seek her blessing.
“Please, bhai ko samjhaiye… apne Randhir bhai ke liye.”

And with that, he turned and walked away — his back straight, his loyalty unshaken, leaving Vidya staring after him with a mix of pride and sorrow in her eyes.

She sighed, collecting her purse and walking out of the restaurant. The night air was cool, Banaras shimmering in the distance, the ghats alive with lamps and chants. Her car was waiting, she sit inside immediately.
.
.
.
She walked inside the apartment and her gaze instantly shifted left — to the glass-walled gym across the corridor.
A bunch of girls stood outside the gym, peeking through the transparent glass, giggling like teenagers, phones in hand, some even fixing their hair.