Unfinished (Some love stories don’t end. They just wait to be written right) - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Bloom Before the Storm

The grand hall shimmered in soft golden lights, glittering like a dream. Fresh white lilies and peach roses were delicately woven into every corner of the decor. Crystals hung from the chandelier like frozen teardrops, catching the mellow tune of the violinists playing in the background. This was no ordinary evening—it was their third wedding anniversary.

Aditi stood near the entrance, her silk saree flowing like moonlight over water, the soft lavender shade enhancing her quiet grace. She held a bouquet of white tulips—Aditya’s favorite. Her eyes, once always bubbling with laughter, were calm tonight—expectant, hopeful.

She checked her watch.

8:00 PM.
He promised he’d be here by 7:30.

She smiled gently, brushing the strand of hair behind her ear.

"Maybe traffic… or a meeting ran late. He’s always been bad with time."
She tried convincing herself, letting the soft music fill the hollow ache forming in her chest.

People were arriving, relatives, friends, associates—everyone asking, “Where is Aditya?”
And she kept repeating, “He’ll be here soon,” even though the certainty in her voice slowly began to crumble.

She stood at the center of it all, but suddenly felt… alone.

The violinists played on.

And then—
The music stopped.

A well-dressed man entered, holding a leather folder in his hand. He didn’t smile. He didn’t greet. He walked straight toward Aditi.

“Mrs. Aditi Khanna?”
She nodded, confused.

“I’m Mr. Sinha from Khanna Legal Associates. Mr. Aditya Khanna sent me on his behalf. These are for you.”

He handed her a brown envelope.

She opened it.

Her fingers trembled. Her breath caught.

Divorce Papers.
Her name and Aditya's… typed neatly.

Already signed by him.

The bouquet slipped from her hand.

The flowers lay crumpled at her feet, petals slowly separating.

Her world stood still.

"What... what is this?" she whispered, eyes darting over the document.
She looked up. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been instructed not to answer any personal questions. My job was only to deliver this,” the lawyer said, his tone cold.

Phones rang. Her family rushed forward. Aditya’s family stood frozen in disbelief.

"Aditi!" her father gasped, catching her just as she stumbled.

But she shook him off, numb.

No tears. No questions.

Just silence.

The lawyer began to turn. She suddenly bent, picked up the divorce papers, straightened her shoulders, and walked toward him.

“Give me your pen,” she said.

He blinked, surprised.

She signed them.

“Tell Mr. Khanna, I received the papers. And I’ve signed them.”
Her voice was steady. Flat. Final.

She handed the file back, turned—and walked out of the hall.

"Aditi!" her mother cried.

Everyone followed, calling after her. But Aditi moved faster, as if something inside her had snapped loose. Her heels clicked sharply on marble, echoing in the corridor.

By the time anyone reached outside—she was gone.

Vanished into the night.