Chapter 2: The Relationship Is Torn Apart

Aisha lowered her head, unable to meet Sarita Seth’s pleading eyes.

Since marrying Robin, her mother-in-law Sarita had treated her like a daughter, showering her with care and kindness beyond what Aisha had ever known. Sarita’s warmth had been a constant, even when Aisha’s ambition pulled her away from their small family.

Now, guilt gnawed at her. She shouldn’t have listened to Vikram Malhotra and pushed Robin to sign the divorce papers today, on Sarita’s 60th birthday. The air in their upscale Banjara Hills apartment still carried the fading scents of Hyderabadi dum biryani, seekh kebabs, and sheer khurma, now cold on the silver trays. The chocolate cake sat untouched, its icing sagging under the LED chandelier. Outside, Hyderabad’s monsoon rains pounded the glass walls, muffling the distant hum of HITEC City’s traffic.

"Aisha, don’t waver. I’ve got your back! Some people play the emotional card—don’t fall for it! This is for your happiness!" Vikram said, his voice smooth but smug, his eyes flicking to Robin with a triumphant glint.

Vikram and Robin had history. Back at Hyderabad University, Vikram was the campus heartthrob—until Robin, then a rising underworld figure, humbled him over a drunken altercation at one of his bars. Vikram lost face, and the grudge festered. Now, seeing Aisha’s beauty and wealth, Vikram burned with regret. How had he missed her potential back then? How had Robin, of all people, won her? It wasn’t too late, though. Aisha was his, always had been. Her fortune, her empire—Vikram wanted it all. And he’d take everything from Robin.

He smirked, barely hiding his excitement.

"Aisha, if Robin’s done something wrong, tell me. I’ll set him straight! Don’t jump to divorce!" Sarita’s voice trembled, her frail hands clutching the edge of the table.

"Ma, I..." Aisha faltered, her throat tight.

"Ma, please don’t leave Papa!" Tara’s eyes welled up, her small hands grabbing Aisha’s lehenga as she sobbed.

Tara’s cries hit Aisha like a wave, stirring memories of her first meeting with Robin. She was eighteen, working at his bar near Hussain Sagar, when a leering drunk harassed her. Robin appeared like a storm, his -trained strikes swift and precise, sending the man sprawling. From that day, no one dared touch her. Her life soared—salons, clubs, Tollywood deals, until she became a billionaire, one of Hyderabad’s elite. She thought it was her brilliance, her destiny.

But deep down, she’d always looked down on Robin, the former gangster. Her heart clung to Vikram, her teenage “First Love,” the poet under Charminar’s arches. Marrying Robin was gratitude, not love. She’d convinced herself he’d stolen a piece of her youth.

"Good job, Robin! Using your kid now? You’ve always been a manipulator! How low can you get?" Daniel Fernandes sneered, his gold watch glinting as he leaned forward.

"Aisha di, don’t fall for this! Robin’s a washed-up thug—his tricks are filthy! Marrying him was a mistake. Cut him off now!" Clara Fernandes added, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Aisha, you’re too soft-hearted. Listen to me this time! Sign the divorce papers today. Your career’s just taking off—you can’t let this man hold you back!" Margaret Fernandes urged, nudging her husband. "Joseph, talk to her!"

"Joseph ji, you pushed for Robin and Aisha’s marriage back then. It was a rash decision. Please, convince her to stay..." Sarita’s voice broke into sobs.

Joseph Fernandes adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but cold. "Times have changed. We gave Robin a chance, but they’re not in the same league anymore. This marriage needs to end."

He fixed Aisha with a stern look. "Aisha, if you don’t decide now, you’ll regret it later."

"Aisha, listen to your parents. No more hesitating!" Vikram chimed in, barely containing his glee.

"Ma kneels to you, Aisha! For Tara’s sake, don’t divorce Robin! He loves you more than anything. He told me marrying you was his greatest honor. He’d give up everything for you and Tara—his whole world is this family!" Sarita cried, starting to lower herself to her knees.

Robin and Aisha lunged to stop her, Robin’s hand steadying her frail frame.

"Like mother, like son! Aisha, see their true colors—playing the victim to guilt-trip you! If you give in, they’ll bleed our family dry forever!" Margaret’s face twisted with disgust.

Vikram seized the moment. "Aisha, don’t worry—I’m here. I’ll protect you with everything I’ve got. I won’t let this mother and son bully you!"

Joseph’s voice hardened. "Aisha, get the divorce papers. Make Robin sign."

"Aisha di, what’s there to think about? Robin’s a nobody, a leech! He should’ve been kicked out of our lives ages ago!" Daniel scoffed.

"Daniel, shut up!" Anna Fernandes, Aisha’s younger sister, who’d been silent in shock, finally spoke. Her voice shook with urgency. "Di, why are you so set on divorcing Robin? He’s a good man! No one else could’ve done what he has for you. Don’t be rash—you’ll regret this!"

Anna’s eyes flashed. "Di, you’re blind to what Robin’s sacrificed. You don’t see how much you owe him. Vikram? He’s not worth Robin’s shadow!"

"Anna! How dare you talk about Vikram like that? He’s better than Robin in every way!" Aisha snapped.

Aisha exhaled slowly, the conflict in her eyes fading. She pulled the divorce papers from her purse, prepared months ago, and slid them toward Robin. "Sign it now. Let’s end this with dignity. I’ll give you five crore and ensure you’re set for life. Tara stays with me, but you can see her anytime."

The words “Divorce Agreement” burned in bold black ink.

“How could this be…” Sarita gasped, her eyes glazing over as she collapsed to the floor.

“Ma!” Robin’s heart clenched, rage surging like a monsoon flood.

He dialed an ambulance, easing Sarita flat on the ground. His smartwatch buzzed, syncing with his AI-driven Ayurvedic app, its sensors reading her pulse. Robin’s fingers, guided by years of modernized Ayurvedic training, pressed precise pressure points to stabilize her heart. The app’s biofeedback confirmed she was stable—no immediate danger. He exhaled, his mind racing but controlled.

“Ma…” Aisha stepped forward, her voice trembling.

Robin pushed her back, his touch cold, deliberate.

Aisha stumbled, catching herself, her eyes wide with shock. In all their years, Robin had never been so distant, never pushed her away. The chasm between them felt like the Musi River in flood—impassable, final.

"Robin, I didn’t mean it. I know a cardiologist at Apollo Hospital. I’ll get him to see Ma right away," Aisha said, her voice frantic.

"No need."

"And from now on, you don’t get to call her Ma. You’ve lost that right."

Robin’s voice was ice, devoid of the warmth Aisha once took for granted. When Sarita fainted, his love for Aisha died. The man who’d modernized Kalaripayattu—the art that birthed Kung Fu and Karate —into a lethal blend of VR-trained strikes and parkour agility, stood unyielding. His Ayurvedic mastery, now a fusion of ancient wisdom and AI diagnostics, had saved Sarita tonight. But Aisha? She’d never know the depth of his power.

The Fernandes family shouted, Tara sobbed, and Vikram’s smirk widened. Robin ignored them, his smartwatch vibrating with alerts. The ambulance was minutes away. Tomorrow, he’d sign. Soon, they’d all learn what they’d lost.

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