Not once.
Not her pain. Not her feelings.
Not where she was going.
Not how she would survive.
Not what she felt.
Every word was for him. About him.
And then, finally, she said something that broke him all over again.
“If letting me go helps you heal even a little, then losing me is worth it.”
The final pause she took was longer this time.
“Take care of yourself, Karan. Goodbye.”
The voice message ended, and the silence that followed was unbearable.
Karan lowered the phone slowly, his hands shaking as tears continued to fall. He pressed her mangalsutra to his chest like a lifeline, his shoulders finally giving way as a sob tore out of him.
This time, his tears were not for his past.
Not for his family.
Not even for his mother.
They were for the woman whose voice and words reached the part of his heart he had locked away for fifteen years.
For his wife Mishti!
CHAPTER 30
Ten Months later – London
The glass doors of the NGO‘Sahara Foundation’slid open at exactly nine.
“Morning, Mishti.”
“Good morning,” she replied, already walking hurriedly inside.
As theOperations and Programme Coordinatorat Sahara Foundation, Mishti was the spine of the organisation. From managing shelter allocations for homeless women and children to coordinating legal aid, hospital partnerships, and overseeing volunteers, the responsibility rested squarely on her shoulders.
Ten months ago, she had left India for good and flown straight to London after leaving behind that WhatsApp voice message and the photo album for Karan. That had been her last contact with him. The decision to walk away from her old life and begin again had not been an act of courage alone. It was survival. And she didn’t have to do it on her own. Someone had helped her.Komal.
The day Komal came to meet her at the Wadhwa mansion, after Mishti learned the true reason behind Karan’s revenge, Mishti had asked her for one favour.To help her leave Mumbai. To help her disappear, somewhere Karan wouldn’t find her easily. Somewhere, she could start a new life, away from him,and allow him to live in peace without her presence haunting him or reminding him of their bitter, connected past.
Fortunately for her, Komal arranged everything within a week. There was a medical conference in London, one that her hospital was attending. A few doctors were flying in as delegates. Komal added Mishti’s name under hospital management and quietly handled the visa process. Mishti flew to London with the team. She sat silently at the back during the sessions, barely listening, clutching her folder like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world she was trying not to fall apart in.
During that same conference week, she applied for a temporary management role at a local hospital. Scheduling. Coordination. Paperwork. Basic work, she knew how to do. Work that did not ask questions.
And from there, the path opened slowly.
Sahara Foundationin London needed someone who understood systems, people, and real pressure. Someone who could work with women carrying stories too heavy to speak aloud.
And Mishti, having lived through that kind of pain and solitude in her own marriage and family, became the perfect fit without trying. And somewhere along the way, she began to love the work.
