Page 58 of Mrs. Rathore

I slammed my hand on the alarm clock and reached for the bottle beside my bed, chugging down the rest of the water like it might wash away everything burning inside me.

It was five in the damn morning.

The sky outside was still dark, painted in the heavy grey of pre-dawn silence. I threw on my workout shorts and an old academy t-shirt, tugged my sneakers on, and stepped outside into the biting morning air. The chill hit me like a slap. It was refreshing and punishing.

That's exactly what I needed.

I usually ran a couple of miles every morning. Not today.

Today, I doubled it.

I pushed my legs harder and faster until every muscle screamed, and my lungs begged for mercy. I didn’t give a shit. The pain was welcome. The pain was good. Pain was honest, more honest than anything else in my life right now.

I was irritated. I was furious. I was hurting.

And most of all I was tired of thinking. Thinking about Ira. Thinking about Avni. The less idle time I gave my mind, the easier it was to shut them out.

At least for a while.

But every goddamn morning, like clockwork, they came crawling back into my head, Avni, with her soft eyes and her broken grace. Ira, with her fire and fury. Their names alone twisted like barbed wire around my heart. Ever since Avni came crashing into my life, nothing had made sense. Nothing had been clean. I hated her for wearing the title of my wife, for being tethered to me by a mistake. I hated her for her silence, her shame, and her fragility.

But I hated myself more for caring.

Ira… fuck. Ira hadn't looked at me since she woke up. No words. No glances. Not even her usual disdain. Just silence - cold, heavy, soul-crushing silence. She thought I’d betrayed her. That message, the one I never sent, was my way of telling her she was nothing to me. According to that text, I asked her to move on.

I never told her who actually had sent her that message.

I could’ve. God knows, I wanted to.

But if telling her the truth meant she'd hate Avni even more… I couldn’t do it. I didn't want to make this mess worse. So, I stayed the villain.

Maybe that’s what I’d always been.

The villain in two women’s stories.

But you know what? Sometimes it was easier to be the monster. At least then, you didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t have to keep everyone happy while your own soul rotted. I didn’t have tosmile for Avni. I didn’t have to beg Ira for forgiveness. They were doing just fine without me.

Good.

I paused at a bend in the road, chest heaving, heart racing like a war drum in my ribs. My body ached. My shirt clung to my back with sweat. The sun was barely a smear of orange at the horizon, but I wasn’t done. Not yet.

I turned my path toward the defense academy.

The guards at the gate stiffened when they saw me. Their backs straightened, hands raised.

“Jai Hind, sir!”

I nodded curtly, barely slowing my pace. My feet carried me across familiar grounds: dirt, discipline, and duty. This was my real home. Not the mansion filled with ghosts. Not the silence between three broken people.

This was real.

The sounds of grunts and commands reached my ears as I entered the training field. A batch of soldiers was being drilled in hand-to-hand combat. Their instructor paused when he saw me. So did the men. The energy shifted. Some looked nervous. Others looked excited.

They all knew what was coming.

I rolled up my sleeves. The sun was rising higher now, casting gold streaks across the arena. Sweat was already pooling at my temples, but it had nothing to do with the heat.

“Pair up,” I barked, walking into the center. “I need three of you.”

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