Whose writ finally prevailed (886 words)

As I was leisurely enjoying my lunch at the restaurant, I saw my ex-husband, Sunil, walk in alone, scanning the hall for a seat. I instinctively lowered my head, hoping to avoid his gaze

My thoughts drifted back to him and our time together. Sunil—well-educated, well-employed, and undeniably handsome—was the kind of man many women dreamed of marrying. Ours had been an arranged marriage, so I hadn’t had much chance to get to know him beforehand.

But once the initial excitement wore off, I began to see cracks. Beneath his charm, there was a selfishness, a sense of entitlement, and a complete disregard for others’ feelings. Being an only child, he had grown up without ever having to share or compromise. He seemed to believe that whatever he wanted should happen, unquestioned. I tried to stay optimistic, thinking things would change as we settled into marriage.

But I resisted when Sunil insisted that his word should govern all aspects of our life together. It wasn’t just about decisions affecting him—he wanted control over every detail, even dictating when I could visit my parents or speak to friends. He expected me to cook elaborate meals, no matter how late he came home or how exhausted I was. He dragged me to his friends’ dull parties, even when I made it clear, I disliked some of them. Eventually, things became so stifling that I felt like I could breathe easier without him.

The breaking point came one day when, during an argument, he declared, “In this house, my word is law. Do as I say or find somewhere else to live.” I replied that I would leave rather live under such conditions.

“Get lost then! Don’t you ever think of coming back!” he thundered with an angry scowl on his face.

I walked out that day.  He tried to reach out a month later, but I wasn’t ready to listen. The wounds were still fresh, though I must admit I missed him at times. Despite everything, I hadn’t sought out anyone else. I busied myself by learning Japanese, trying to be busy during idle hours.

I was jolted back to the present by a familiar voice. “Swapna, what a surprise! Can I sit here? I want to talk.”

I looked up and replied, “Sure, have a seat.”

He sat down and glanced at me before saying, “How are you? You look a bit wan…a little tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though a part of me was pleased by his concern. Maybe he was remorseful, maybe he wanted to ask for forgiveness. If he genuinely apologized and showed he was willing to change, I wasn’t entirely opposed to giving our marriage another chance.

But as he sat there in silence, I prompted him. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” he began, hesitating. “I’m not sure how to say this… or how you’ll take it.”

“Since when have you ever worried about my feelings?” I shot back. “Just say what you came to say.”

He was silent for a short while and began with a sigh, “I have nothing against you. We both struggled to adjust, and we couldn’t see eye to eye on most things. You decided to leave.”

I interrupted, “That’s not how it happened. You told me to leave when I couldn’t accept your ‘my way or the highway’ attitude. I always believed marriage was a partnership between equals.”

“Maybe so,” he said, a little uncomfortably. “But we’re living apart now, and it’s time we take formal steps.”

“Then have your lawyer send the papers. Why drag this out? I have other things to do,” I replied curtly.

“There’s something else,” he continued. “You know Smitha? She’s the assistant manager in my department. We’ve been seeing each other, and she’s agreed to marry me once the divorce is finalised. But she wants to meet you first, to understand why we separated. She insists on hearing directly from you before making the final decision. You can help me get on with my life by facilitating this marriage to materialise. Will you do this favour?” he pleaded in a soft tone that was unlike him.”

I wished to scream, but I concealed my anger and kept my voice steady. “Sure, send her over. I’m leaving now.”

The next day, Smitha came to my house. I greeted her and offered her a drink.

“I know you work with Sunil. What is it you want to talk to me about?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yes,” she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “He is my boss. He’s asked me to marry him, but I need to know why you left him after just a year. Your answer will greatly help me to decide, though I promise not to divulge anything you say.”

I looked at her calmly. “It’s simple. Why do you think a woman would leave a well-educated, good-looking, successful man so soon after marriage?”

Her face paled slightly, and she whispered, “I think I know.”

I nodded. “He couldn’t consummate the marriage. The doctors said everything was normal, but he refused to acknowledge he had a problem.”

A fortnight later, I heard Smitha had resigned and left the city.

For once, it was my word that prevailed.