**Chapter 3: Desperate Measures**
The clock ticked slowly in the background as Aanya sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop open in front of her. MBA application acknowledgments, college brochures, and sample essays cluttered the screen. But her focus was elsewhere.
She stared at the blank document labeled: **"Divorce Plan."**
Her stomach twisted at the title.
It had been ten days since the wedding. Ten long, suffocating days in a house that felt too silent, too calculated. Arjun had been nothing but civil—helpful, even—but his presence always lingered. In the kitchen. Outside her room. In the hallway when she got out of the shower.
He never touched her. Never raised his voice. But his eyes... they watched. Always.
He wasn't violent. He wasn't cruel.
He was *there*.
And somehow, that was worse.
Her phone buzzed.
**"You reached safely at your parents' place?" — Arjun**
Aanya stared at the message, then tossed the phone aside.
She hadn't told him she was visiting her parents for the weekend. He found out anyway. Of course he did.
Possessive wasn't a strong enough word. He tracked her without tracking her. Watched her without watching her. She could feel him in the way she checked over her shoulder now, the way she hesitated before unlocking her phone, or sending an email.
It was driving her insane.
She opened a new tab and typed: **"Divorce lawyer Bangalore confidential."**
***
By Monday, she was seated in a small, sunlit office tucked into a corner of Indiranagar. The lawyer looked professional, calm, and just judgmental enough to make her uncomfortable.
"You've been married… two weeks?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.
"Twelve days."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's… fast."
"I want out," she said firmly. "It was a forced marriage. I never agreed."
"But you didn't say no."
"I tried. No one listened."
The lawyer nodded slowly. "Was there any abuse?"
"No. Nothing physical."
"Emotional?"
She hesitated. "It's hard to explain. He's… everywhere. I feel suffocated. Watched. Controlled."
The lawyer sighed. "We can file, of course. But without mutual consent or solid grounds, it can take a long time. Years, even. And if your husband refuses to cooperate—"
"He will," she said quickly.
The lawyer looked unconvinced. "Most men who refuse to divorce, especially without clear abuse, tend to make the process… difficult."
Aanya clenched her fists. "I'll make it difficult too."
He gave her a small, polite smile. "Let me draw up the papers."
***
She came back home late that evening, hoping he wouldn't be there. The lights were off, but the front door was unlocked.
As she stepped in, she heard his voice from the kitchen.
"You met a lawyer today."
Her heart stopped. "How do you—"
"I had a feeling. Your tone changed this morning. You were... too polite. You never are."
She stepped into the kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter, arms folded.
"I don't owe you an explanation."
"No," he said, his voice low, "you don't. But you still gave me one, just by going."
"You promised me a few months," she snapped.
"I also promised I wouldn't stop you from pursuing your MBA."
"This isn't about the MBA anymore, Arjun. This is about *me*. I don't want to live with you. I don't want to play house with someone I never chose!"
His jaw tightened. "You think I chose this either? You think I wanted to marry a woman who looked at me like I'm the villain in her story every single day?"
"Then let me go!"
He looked away, something flickering in his eyes. "I can't."
Her voice broke. "Why not?"
"Because," he said quietly, "I already lost too much before I even had you. I won't lose you too."
His voice was so soft, so desperate, that it sent a shiver down her spine.
She took a step back. "That's not love. That's obsession."
He looked at her then. Really looked. "Maybe. Or maybe it's fear."
She didn't say a word. Just turned and walked into her room, locking the door behind her.
But she didn't sleep that night.
And she knew he didn't either.
***
The next day, his mother called.
"Aanya beta," she said sweetly. "What have you done to my son?"
"What do you mean?"
"He barely comes home now. He doesn't call. He sits in his room staring at the wall when he does visit. He used to be so lively, so obedient before marriage. And now—" she paused dramatically "—he barely even listens to me."
Aanya said nothing.
"I know it's new for both of you," his mother continued. "But maybe tone it down a little? You're his wife now."
Aanya clenched her teeth. "You mean I should stop thinking for myself?"
"Beta, being a wife is about compromise."
"No," she said quietly, "it's about consent."
The line went silent.
Then a cold, clipped goodbye.
***
That weekend, her cousin visited.
"You two look so good together," she gushed. "Tall, hot, quiet guy with a sassy girl? It's like Netflix material."
Aanya snorted. "You don't know the half of it."
"Seriously, though," her cousin leaned in. "People are jealous, you know. He's rich, smart, and he's *only* ever had eyes for you. No exes, no scandals. You should feel lucky."
Aanya looked at her, feeling a strange mix of nausea and bitterness.
Everyone thought she was lucky.
But inside, she was unraveling.
Slowly.
***
That night, she stepped into the living room, where Arjun was reading.
"I want to live with my parents for a while."
He didn't look up. "How long is 'a while'?"
"I don't know."
Still, no reaction.
She added, "Please don't follow me."
He turned the page. "Okay."
That startled her.
"You're agreeing?"
He looked up. "You want space. I get that. But I'll still call. Text. You can ignore it. But I won't stop."
She stared at him, a lump in her throat.
This wasn't going to be easy.
Nothing about this ever would be.
---
**[End of Chapter 3]**