She cried and slept; she slept and cried. She cried in her sleep and slept while she cried.

Did it make a difference? No.

The clock ticked on. The folder sat on her side table and watched her serenely. It called her; tempted her to pick it up, but she stubbornly stayed put.

“Go away!” she glared and pulled her covers to her chin. The folder smiled a serene smile.

“Come here! Sign me! You want your freedom, right?”

She chewed her bottom lip. Yes, she wanted her freedom, but the price was too steep. She wasn’t ready to pay it. She couldn’t let go of the only person in her life who mattered to her. Beyond him, her life felt worthless. Not fit for living.

“But you are rich. You can afford it.” the voice cooed. “You can point your finger at any random man and he’d be at your feet. What’s so great about Darsh Rathore?”

Yeah, what was so great about him? He was an arrogant, hot-tempered, boorish git who did not have an ounce of tenderness inside him. He was just a chauvinist pig. All he knew was to take, take, take, and never to give anything in return.

“But he is giving you your freedom,” the voice breathed. “Maybe it’s a sign he’s changed?”

Her eyes burned again. Well, if he had changed, this was a fine way of showing it. It just stressed further that he didn’t give a damn. His behavior, even forgetting the one before their marriage, was abominable. First, he’d tried to force himself on her (well maybe she was too rude to him that night but even then, he had crossed his line), then he had been ghastly with Gaurav (well, maybe she should have picked his calls or at least left a message but even then, he had no business being rude to her friend,) and now he was being high-handed again, and forcing her out of his life. Well, her breakdown this last week must have scared the living daylights out of him. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. Maybe he did care, after all, not a lot, but just an incy-wincy-tincy bit.

She pursed her lips as her irritation built up. Why was she making excuses for him? He didn't deserve it after what he had done, after the countless despicable things she had suffered at his hands. She shouldn’t leave this chance to get rid of him. It was a god-sent, her only way out of this mess.

“I don’t care if he is changed or not!” she gritted through her teeth. “And my freedom is mine to take, not his to give.”

“Then come and sign me.” The folder sounded bored. “What are you waiting for? Your freedom is just a signature away. Come and take it.”

She stalked to the side table and flipped the blasted folder open. As expected, it was beautiful. The top page was a perfect summary in the neat hand of her husband. It contained the premise, the problem, and the potential solutions with the pros and cons of each. Then in the end was his recommendation - the darned annulment, which again was underlined with a red pen. She shook her head in grudging admiration. So Mr. Rathore was not lying. This was a habit of his - to be so perfect, precise, clinical, and cut-throat. Blue pen for normal text, red for highlighting. The neat curvy letters mocked her as her face contorted with distaste.

Well, he could take his neatness and stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine. Her freedom was hers to take, not his to give. It was not a charity. She would take it on her terms, the way it suited her best.

Pulling a drawer open, she extracted her reddest-of-the-reds lipstick, then proceeded to draw a big cross on the page. Right from the top-left to the bottom-right and then the other way. Underneath was the actual annulment application with his signature. It too received the same treatment. She used her mascara to blackface it before mutilating it further.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

There. Now it looked perfect, just the way she liked it.

This is what she would give him - a middle finger. That was what he deserved. If he thought it was so easy to get rid of her, he could think again.

*****

She cursed the folder to her heart’s content, then clipped her toenails on it. Her heart filled with a divine serenity as she carried it to the bin when her husband stopped her in the lounge.

“What is that?” He frowned at the folder suspiciously, then shot forward, looking aghast. “Is that my folder?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s the same folder. So?”

"So what are you doing with it? Have you… cut your nails on it?"

“Yes,” she pouted, enjoying his reaction. “I put it to the best use I could. And now it’s going to the dustbin.”

“That’s enough!” He thundered as he snatched it from her and flipped it open. Aditi smiled as his face paled. He looked dumbstruck, just as she had expected him to be.

“Do you like my handiwork?” She asked solicitously, tilting her head. He looked lost for words.

“How dare you, Aditi? Do you know how long it took me to prepare it? How could you be so careless?”

“I am not careless. If you can throw our relationship in the dustbin, I can throw your folder. It’s called tit-for-tat.”

“It’s called stupidity. This is not child’s play. This is a serious matter. I am letting you go. You can have your life back and you…”

“I am not going anywhere and I am not letting you let me go. It’s my choice, Darsh. I think it’s time you gave me at least some say in the matter.”

He stared at her ashen-faced, that nerve again thudding erratically. She straightened her back and crossed her arms as she accepted his challenge. They glared at each other, eye to eye, husband to wife. As expected, she won. He flushed and looked away.

“I am giving you a choice. I should have done it long before, even before I proposed marriage. I should have come clean then, but I was blind enough not to. I am just rectifying my mistake, Aditi. Just sign and go. You can have your life back. You won’t have to suffer because of me.”

If ever there was a clueless man, it was here. Didn’t he understand it was too late? She kept her eye contact but felt the burn rising. It was hard not to blink and let the tears fall.

“As I said, it’s my choice. And I have already made my decision. I’ll stay as long as I want and go when I think I want to. You don’t get a say in it, Darsh, not anymore.”

*****

A door thudded then the lock turned as his wife disappeared into her room. Darsh stared after her, then at his poor folder. The way it had died its death was horrible. He hadn't expected his delicate wife to be so savage.

Sighing, he dumped it in the bin. He could have gotten more copies, but it was no use. They were all destined for the bin unless she changed her mind.

An insane laughter bubbled in his throat. Did this really happen? Had his wife just foiled his big plan with strokes of her makeup?

This was ridiculous. This was insane, This was just... too good to be true!

His brain felt blinded as all the lights suddenly turned on. He blinked rapidly. She was staying. She was staying. She was not leaving him, was it even possible?

He rushed to the kitchen and hugged his Ma, giving her the good news. She just raised her eyebrows as if she knew it all along.

“She is giving you a chance, Beta. Make sure you don’t break her heart again.”

He became solemn as he nodded, then skipped to his room, grinning like a teenager. Yes, it was a chance, something to look forward to, something he'd hoped for desperately. After years, his star was shining brightly. This time, he would make sure nothing went wrong. This time, he would make sure he did everything perfectly just as his wife wanted.

He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her safe. And more than everything, he wanted her to be with him forever and ever and ever.

*****

The next morning Aditi woke up to find Karuna Ma gone. She had some urgent matter again at her NGO, her husband told her while smiling as he served her breakfast. Shanta bai, too, had disappeared. It seemed one of her distant relatives had suddenly taken ill.

Aditi flushed as she gobbled her food, wishing she had never come out of her room. It was so obvious what they were thinking. It was so obvious, what her husband was thinking that it made her go red.

She pursed her lips and shot him a scathing look. He was whistling. Whistling, while he washed up at the sink.

“I need to go somewhere,” she said as he turned back. “Wonder if you would like to play the chauffeur?”

“Sure. I am at your service, Princess.”

“Don’t overact.” she curled her lip. “And think again. You’ll have to stay with me the whole day, do as I say, take me wherever I want to go. And all this without saying a word, that's the main condition.”

His smile stayed. “Your wish is my command, Princess. I’ll be a good chauffeur and the best dumb husband ever.”

She smiled sweetly. “Good. I hope it's not too much of an effort. Now go get ready. We are leaving in twenty minutes.”

***** *****