"Robin, let’s end this cleanly and sign the divorce papers."

"Aisha, it’s Ma’s 60th birthday today. Her heart’s weak. Can we talk tonight, please?"

"When I beg you, Robin!"

Robin Seth looked at the woman he’d loved for ten years, his voice low, steady, but laced with hurt.

The rich aroma of Hyderabadi dum biryani, sizzling seekh kebabs, and sweet sheer khurma wafted through their upscale Banjara Hills apartment. The dining table sparkled with silver trays, a towering chocolate cake at its heart, its icing gleaming under the LED chandelier. Outside, Hyderabad’s monsoon rains lashed the glass walls, blurring the neon glow of HITEC City’s skyscrapers.

Around the table sat Aisha’s refined parents, Joseph and Margaret Fernandes, her cocky brother Daniel and sharp-tongued sister Clara, alongside Robin’s mother, Sarita Seth, in a simple cotton saree, and their five-year-old daughter, Tara, her eyes glued to the cake’s gooey layers.

Then there was Vikram Malhotra, Aisha’s old flame—her “First Love”—fresh off a flight from London, whom she’d picked up from Rajiv Gandhi International Airport hours ago.

Aisha’s kohl-rimmed eyes flickered with doubt, but she shook her head. "We need to sign now, Robin."

"Robin beta, Aisha, what’s with the whispering? Come, let’s eat!" Sarita called, her voice warm but frail, her hands trembling from her heart condition.

"Papa, Mummy, Tara’s hungry!"

Robin glanced at his mother and daughter, his chest tightening. "You want a divorce, fine, but can we at least get through Ma’s Birthday meal first?"

Aisha’s manicured brows arched, a hint of disappointment flashing as she saw Robin’s calm, almost too-rational demeanor. He wasn’t the fierce young man she’d known. Or so she believed.

Ten years ago,

Robin Seth was a whirlwind. At twenty, he ruled Hyderabad’s underworld, running betting dens and pearl smuggling from the Old City’s maze to Secunderabad’s docks. His sharp mind outsmarted rivals and cops, his name a whisper of fear and respect.

Aisha, then eighteen, was a college freshman, working shifts at one of Robin’s swanky bars near Hussain Sagar to fund her dreams, her eyes alight with ambition under Hyderabad’s neon glow.

Now,

Aisha ran Fernandes Enterprises—a glittering empire of luxury salons, trendy clubs, and Tollywood production deals, mingling with Hyderabad’s elite at rooftop bashes in Gachibowli. Her face graced billboards, her Insta reels racking up millions of likes.

Robin? After Operation Clean Sweep crushed Hyderabad’s gangs in the late 2000s, he’d faded out. Now a stay-at-home dad, he drove Tara to school in their old I10, cooked dal, and scrolled X for cricket updates. To the world, he was a nobody, left behind by Hyderabad’s tech boom.

But Robin was no ordinary man. Beneath his casual tee and easy smile, he was a modern genius who’d fused ancient wisdom with cutting-edge tech. His mastery of Ayurveda went beyond herbs—he’d built an AI-driven health app, blending ancient diagnostics with smartphone sensors to read vitals like pulse and stress, masking it as a “hobby” side project. His Kalaripayattu, the ancient martial art that birthed Kung Fu and Karate through Bodhidharma’s journey to China, wasn’t just tradition. Robin had modernized it, merging its fluid strikes with HIIT, parkour, and VR combat simulations, training in secret to achieve Siddhi—perfection—where mind, body, and tech became one.

They were worlds apart, Aisha thought.

Worse, her first love, Vikram, was back. The man who’d filled her teenage heart with poetry under Charminar’s arches had returned. She’d vowed to end this rushed, family-pressured marriage the moment he landed.

What Aisha didn’t know was that her empire rested on Robin’s shoulders. His old underworld ties secured her business permits, his quiet calls to politicos blocked tax raids, his hidden moves crushed her rivals—like the competitor who tried to sabotage her flagship salon in Jubilee Hills. She thought she was Hyderabad’s destined queen, that Robin was a weight dragging her down.

"Robin, you’re stalling. It’s pointless. I’ve decided."

"On Ma’s birthday? Not even one day’s wait?"

"Yes!"

Robin’s fingers twitched, then steadied. His smartwatch vibrated, syncing with his app to monitor Sarita’s pulse discreetly. "Fine, I’ll sign, but one condition."

"What?"

"Tara stays with me."

"Impossible!"

His voice dropped, eyes sharp. "You want to chase your old flame and live your dream. I won’t let Tara suffer with a stepfather."

Aisha’s face flushed. "Vikram and I just met today—there’s nothing there! Even if we end up together, Tara would never be hurt!"

"Nothing? Then why drag him to Ma’s birthday dinner? Aisha, what am I to you?"

"You’re wrong. I didn’t bring Vikram to shame you. He just landed, had nowhere to stay, so I let him crash here..."

"Nowhere to stay..."

"Divorce, fine, but Tara’s mine. No deal otherwise."

"Robin! You’re selfish. You’re jobless, broke! Tara with you will struggle. With me, she’ll have top schools, trips to Dubai, everything!"

Robin’s lips curved faintly, his smartwatch buzzing with a stress alert for Sarita.

"Papa, Mummy, why’re you whispering? Tara wants cake! Tara wants to blow candles with Dadi!"

"Tara beta, Mummy’s coming."

"Tara, chill. Your mom’s sorting out a divorce with your dad. Cake comes after."

Vikram’s smug voice sliced through like monsoon thunder.

"Divorce?"

Sarita shot up, her face ashen. "Robin beta, what’s this? Don’t scare me!"

"Ma, relax. It’s just a spat with Aisha. We’re good."

Robin steadied her, his fingers subtly pressing an Ayurvedic pressure point, guided by his app’s biofeedback, to calm her racing heart. Sarita’s condition, worsened by years in their village, couldn’t take shocks.

"Really?"

Sarita’s breaths rasped. "Aisha, tell me, what’s happening?"

Aisha glared at Vikram. "Sorry, I thought it was out there. My mistake..."

"But truth comes out, right? Better now than never."

"Shut it!"

Robin’s gaze, lethal as a bullet strike, pinned Vikram. The man froze, unable to meet those blazing eyes.

Aisha bit her lip, wavering.

"Ma, don’t worry. Aisha and I aren’t divorcing. It’s your Birthday—let’s eat."

Robin smiled, guiding Sarita back.

"Robin! Why drag this out?"

Margaret Fernandes stood, her silk dress rustling. "Short pain’s better than long torture. Sign the divorce now. We’re all here to witness."

"Aunty ji..."

"Sarita ji, their marriage is done. They don’t fit anymore. Divorce today!"

Margaret’s tone was iron.

"Ma, no rush..." Aisha whispered, seeing Sarita’s pallor, guilt flickering.

"Beti, you’re too kind, but some men exploit that! Celebrate, but settle the divorce first. Don’t let Robin trap you. A woman’s youth is short!" Margaret snapped.

"Exactly, di! This loser’s beneath you. Divorced, you can have anyone! Vikram bhai’s solid!" Daniel sneered, his gold watch flashing.

"Aisha di, you’re meant for better! Sign now, file tomorrow. After the cooling-off month, you’re free of this nakko!" Clara added.

Aisha’s face twisted, guilt battling resolve. She hadn’t wanted this public mess, but Robin’s refusal forced her hand.

"Beta, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me... Couples fight, they fix things..." Sarita’s voice broke, lips pale.

"Ma, sit."

"Aisha, tell me—you and Robin aren’t divorcing, right?"

"Ma, Robin and I..." Aisha faltered, glancing at her family, then Robin’s steady gaze. The room stilled, rain pounding outside, food untouched. She sighed. "We have to. It’s over."

Sarita clutched her chest, gasping. "No... my family..."

"Ma!" Robin caught her as she swayed, Tara wailed, and the Fernandes family erupted. Vikram smirked. Robin’s fingers worked another Ayurvedic point, his app buzzing with alerts. Tomorrow, the papers. Soon, they’d see the modern master he’d become.

Aisha lowered her head, unable to meet Sarita Seth’s pleading eyes.

Since marrying Robin, her mother-in-law Sarita had treated her like a daughter, showering her with care and kindness beyond what Aisha had ever known. Sarita’s warmth had been a constant, even when Aisha’s ambition pulled her away from their small family.

Now, guilt gnawed at her. She shouldn’t have listened to Vikram Malhotra and pushed Robin to sign the divorce papers today, on Sarita’s 60th birthday. The air in their upscale Banjara Hills apartment still carried the fading scents of Hyderabadi dum biryani, seekh kebabs, and sheer khurma, now cold on the silver trays. The chocolate cake sat untouched, its icing sagging under the LED chandelier. Outside, Hyderabad’s monsoon rains pounded the glass walls, muffling the distant hum of HITEC City’s traffic.

"Aisha, don’t waver. I’ve got your back! Some people play the emotional card—don’t fall for it! This is for your happiness!" Vikram said, his voice smooth but smug, his eyes flicking to Robin with a triumphant glint.

Vikram and Robin had history. Back at Hyderabad University, Vikram was the campus heartthrob—until Robin, then a rising underworld figure, humbled him over a drunken altercation at one of his bars. Vikram lost face, and the grudge festered. Now, seeing Aisha’s beauty and wealth, Vikram burned with regret. How had he missed her potential back then? How had Robin, of all people, won her? It wasn’t too late, though. Aisha was his, always had been. Her fortune, her empire—Vikram wanted it all. And he’d take everything from Robin.

He smirked, barely hiding his excitement.

"Aisha, if Robin’s done something wrong, tell me. I’ll set him straight! Don’t jump to divorce!" Sarita’s voice trembled, her frail hands clutching the edge of the table.

"Ma, I..." Aisha faltered, her throat tight.

"Ma, please don’t leave Papa!" Tara’s eyes welled up, her small hands grabbing Aisha’s lehenga as she sobbed.

Tara’s cries hit Aisha like a wave, stirring memories of her first meeting with Robin. She was eighteen, working at his bar near Hussain Sagar, when a leering drunk harassed her. Robin appeared like a storm, his -trained strikes swift and precise, sending the man sprawling. From that day, no one dared touch her. Her life soared—salons, clubs, Tollywood deals, until she became a billionaire, one of Hyderabad’s elite. She thought it was her brilliance, her destiny.

But deep down, she’d always looked down on Robin, the former gangster. Her heart clung to Vikram, her teenage “First Love,” the poet under Charminar’s arches. Marrying Robin was gratitude, not love. She’d convinced herself he’d stolen a piece of her youth.

"Good job, Robin! Using your kid now? You’ve always been a manipulator! How low can you get?" Daniel Fernandes sneered, his gold watch glinting as he leaned forward.

"Aisha di, don’t fall for this! Robin’s a washed-up thug—his tricks are filthy! Marrying him was a mistake. Cut him off now!" Clara Fernandes added, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Aisha, you’re too soft-hearted. Listen to me this time! Sign the divorce papers today. Your career’s just taking off—you can’t let this man hold you back!" Margaret Fernandes urged, nudging her husband. "Joseph, talk to her!"

"Joseph ji, you pushed for Robin and Aisha’s marriage back then. It was a rash decision. Please, convince her to stay..." Sarita’s voice broke into sobs.

Joseph Fernandes adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but cold. "Times have changed. We gave Robin a chance, but they’re not in the same league anymore. This marriage needs to end."

He fixed Aisha with a stern look. "Aisha, if you don’t decide now, you’ll regret it later."

"Aisha, listen to your parents. No more hesitating!" Vikram chimed in, barely containing his glee.

"Ma kneels to you, Aisha! For Tara’s sake, don’t divorce Robin! He loves you more than anything. He told me marrying you was his greatest honor. He’d give up everything for you and Tara—his whole world is this family!" Sarita cried, starting to lower herself to her knees.

Robin and Aisha lunged to stop her, Robin’s hand steadying her frail frame.

"Like mother, like son! Aisha, see their true colors—playing the victim to guilt-trip you! If you give in, they’ll bleed our family dry forever!" Margaret’s face twisted with disgust.

Vikram seized the moment. "Aisha, don’t worry—I’m here. I’ll protect you with everything I’ve got. I won’t let this mother and son bully you!"

Joseph’s voice hardened. "Aisha, get the divorce papers. Make Robin sign."

"Aisha di, what’s there to think about? Robin’s a nobody, a leech! He should’ve been kicked out of our lives ages ago!" Daniel scoffed.

"Daniel, shut up!" Anna Fernandes, Aisha’s younger sister, who’d been silent in shock, finally spoke. Her voice shook with urgency. "Di, why are you so set on divorcing Robin? He’s a good man! No one else could’ve done what he has for you. Don’t be rash—you’ll regret this!"

Anna’s eyes flashed. "Di, you’re blind to what Robin’s sacrificed. You don’t see how much you owe him. Vikram? He’s not worth Robin’s shadow!"

"Anna! How dare you talk about Vikram like that? He’s better than Robin in every way!" Aisha snapped.

Aisha exhaled slowly, the conflict in her eyes fading. She pulled the divorce papers from her purse, prepared months ago, and slid them toward Robin. "Sign it now. Let’s end this with dignity. I’ll give you five crore and ensure you’re set for life. Tara stays with me, but you can see her anytime."

The words “Divorce Agreement” burned in bold black ink.

“How could this be…” Sarita gasped, her eyes glazing over as she collapsed to the floor.

“Ma!” Robin’s heart clenched, rage surging like a monsoon flood.

He dialed an ambulance, easing Sarita flat on the ground. His smartwatch buzzed, syncing with his AI-driven Ayurvedic app, its sensors reading her pulse. Robin’s fingers, guided by years of modernized Ayurvedic training, pressed precise pressure points to stabilize her heart. The app’s biofeedback confirmed she was stable—no immediate danger. He exhaled, his mind racing but controlled.

“Ma…” Aisha stepped forward, her voice trembling.

Robin pushed her back, his touch cold, deliberate.

Aisha stumbled, catching herself, her eyes wide with shock. In all their years, Robin had never been so distant, never pushed her away. The chasm between them felt like the Musi River in flood—impassable, final.

"Robin, I didn’t mean it. I know a cardiologist at Apollo Hospital. I’ll get him to see Ma right away," Aisha said, her voice frantic.

"No need."

"And from now on, you don’t get to call her Ma. You’ve lost that right."

Robin’s voice was ice, devoid of the warmth Aisha once took for granted. When Sarita fainted, his love for Aisha died. The man who’d modernized Kalaripayattu—the art that birthed Kung Fu and Karate —into a lethal blend of VR-trained strikes and parkour agility, stood unyielding. His Ayurvedic mastery, now a fusion of ancient wisdom and AI diagnostics, had saved Sarita tonight. But Aisha? She’d never know the depth of his power.

The Fernandes family shouted, Tara sobbed, and Vikram’s smirk widened. Robin ignored them, his smartwatch vibrating with alerts. The ambulance was minutes away. Tomorrow, he’d sign. Soon, they’d all learn what they’d lost.

Aisha stood frozen, stunned by Robin’s icy words. He’d never spoken to her so harshly before.

The man before her seemed transformed—unyielding, distant, a stranger.

"Robin, how dare you be so ungrateful! Let’s be clear: if anything happens to your mother, it’s not our fault! This has nothing to do with us!" Margaret Fernandes snapped, her voice dripping with disdain.

The monsoon rain pounded outside the Banjara Hills apartment, soaking the pavement where the ambulance waited. The air still held traces of biryani and sheer khurma, now stale, as the untouched chocolate cake sagged on the dining table under the LED chandelier.

"Ma, enough!" Aisha pleaded, her voice soft.

"What’s wrong with speaking the truth? Good thing you registered your property before marriage, or dividing it now would be a mess!" Margaret retorted, folding her arms.

Aisha sighed, turning to Robin. "If you sign the divorce papers, you can ask for anything except Tara. Whatever I can give, I will—generously. Let’s end this cleanly, Robin. Maybe… we can still be friends."

"Di, what are you saying?" Anna Fernandes cried, her eyes wide with panic. "Have you forgotten how Robin gave you the startup funds for your first club in Jubilee Hills? Or how he faced down those goons alone when your company was targeted, nearly dying to fix it? Or how he—"

"Anna, stop! That’s ancient history!" Aisha cut her off, her tone firm. "Robin helped me, sure, but I’ve repaid him over the years. Five crore is more than enough to settle his kindness!"

"Di, how can you be like this? Have you forgotten everything? Without Robin, would you be the CEO of Fernandes Enterprises? Would our family be where we are? How can you be so heartless?" Anna’s voice cracked.

"Enough, Anna! You’re stuck in the past. We need to live in the present, look to the future!" Aisha’s gaze softened as it landed on Vikram Malhotra. She believed her First Love was her true destiny, not Robin, who she thought had trapped her youth in a mistake.

"Di, if you divorce Robin, you’ll regret it! You don’t even know your own heart!" Anna pleaded.

"I’ll never regret it!" Aisha shot back, though a strange pang tugged at her chest. "Even if I do, I’ll own it!"

Looking at Robin, she felt something slipping away, like sand through her fingers.

"Five crore? This guy’s getting a steal!" Vikram muttered, his eyes narrowing. To him, Aisha’s wealth was already his. Handing Robin five crore felt like losing his own money. He’d find a way to claw it back later—Fernandes Enterprises was his future prize.

"Papa, Mummy… please don’t fight, don’t divorce!" Tara’s tears spilled over, her small hands clutching Aisha’s lehenga.

"Anna, take Tara inside," Margaret ordered, frowning. She feared Aisha might soften, and she’d despised Robin for years. Once useful with his underworld ties, he was now a relic, useless to their thriving family. Aisha’s empire—salons, clubs, Tollywood deals—had outgrown him.

Anna scooped up Tara, then turned to Robin. "Brother-in-law, Di’s been misled. She’s confused. Give her time—she’ll see her mistake."

"Anna…" Robin’s voice was low, final. "Your sister and I are done."

He grabbed the divorce papers, barely glancing at the clauses. His eyes locked on Tara’s custody section. "I’ve said it before: divorce is fine, I don’t want your money, but I won’t give up Tara."

"Robin, in your state—jobless, broke—you can’t care for Tara properly. If you want her happiness, let her stay with me," Aisha said, pausing. "I won’t change her surname. You’ll always be her father."

"Aisha, do you really think everything you have is yours alone?" Robin’s tone was sharp, his smartwatch vibrating with Sarita’s pulse data from his AI-driven Ayurvedic app.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Aisha frowned.

"Here’s my deal: add a clause to Tara’s custody. One year from now, whoever has more assets gets her. For this year, Tara stays with you, but no one else—especially him—gets near her." Robin’s gaze pierced Vikram.

"Who’re you calling ‘no one’?" Vikram snapped, bristling.

"Fine! I agree! I’ll have the agreement revised. We’ll file at the registry tomorrow, and after the one-month cooling-off period, we’re done!" Aisha said without hesitation. In her mind, Robin could never surpass her empire—not in a year, not in a lifetime. She was no longer the helpless girl who needed his protection.

"Di, brother-in-law…" Anna clutched Tara, tears in her eyes.

"Anna, look after Tara. I’ll visit her twice a week. In a year, I’ll take her," Robin said calmly, his voice steady but laced with resolve.

"Brother-in-law, is there no chance for you and Di?"

"When love’s thrown away, there’s no point holding on. You can be a fool once, not forever."

The ambulance siren wailed closer, cutting through Hyderabad’s rain-soaked streets. Robin gently lifted Sarita onto his back, her frail form limp. To Tara, still sobbing, he said, "Be good, beta. Papa’s taking Dadi to the doctor. Eat well, sleep well, and wait for Papa, okay?"

"Okay! Tara promises Papa!" Tara nodded, wiping her tears.

"Here’s a cheque for five crore, cashable at any bank." Aisha handed him the cheque and the revised divorce agreement.

Robin took the cheque, tore it to shreds, and let the pieces scatter in the rain. He signed the agreement, kept his copy, and sneered, "Aisha, I turned you from nothing into Hyderabad’s top CEO. I can turn you back to nothing just as easily."

"Robin! Still clinging to your ego? Drop your pathetic pride. With five crore, you can live decently. Your old tricks don’t work anymore!" Aisha’s voice dripped with disappointment.

"Aisha, you understand nothing. Soon, you’ll regret this for life."

Robin turned, striding toward the ambulance, his silhouette sharp against the rain. Love was a dream he’d woken from. Years ago, Aisha’s smile at his Hussain Sagar bar had been his world. For her, he’d abandoned his underworld empire, protecting her silently. Now, only disgust remained.

He settled Sarita in the ambulance, his app confirming her vitals were stable, thanks to his modernized Ayurvedic techniques—pressure points guided by AI diagnostics.

"Robin, take my car to Apollo Hospital. I’ve called Dr. Rao—he’ll have a bed ready. I won’t let anything happen to Ma," Aisha said, stepping forward.

"If it weren’t for you, Ma wouldn’t have collapsed. Don’t fake concern now—it’s sickening. Stay here with your precious First Love," Robin shot back. "And I told you: stop calling her Ma. Didn’t you hear?"

Aisha’s face hardened. "Robin, how did you become this way? Even if we’re not husband and wife, we can be friends. You’re still Tara’s father. If you need help, I’ll do what I can."

"No need."

"Robin, you’re such a disappointment."

Aisha felt vindicated choosing Vikram over Robin’s stubborn pride.

"Some people don’t deserve pity. Let them rot. Let’s go eat—their mess isn’t our problem anymore," Vikram said, smirking.

"No, Sarita was good to me. I messed up today," Aisha admitted. "Vikram, I can’t host you now. I’m going to the hospital."

"I’ll come with you!" Vikram offered.

"Thanks, Vikram." Aisha’s voice softened.

Robin’s expression didn’t flicker. His heart was done with Aisha. His Kalaripayattu mastery—modernized with VR simulations—made him untouchable. His AI-driven Ayurveda had saved Sarita tonight. Aisha would never grasp his power.

"Aisha, remember: keep Vikram away from Tara. If he gets near her, I’ll take her immediately. If I want something done, you can’t stop me," Robin warned, his tone cold.

Aisha frowned. "Robin, why this hostility toward Vikram? My divorce isn’t about him."

Robin waved her off. "Just remember what I said."

"Why bother with him? Outside this apartment, he’s nothing!" Vikram scoffed.

Aisha nodded, turning to leave with Vikram. Just then, a sleek convertible Porsche roared through the rain, screeching to a stop before Robin. The door opened, and a striking woman in a simple white top and fitted jeans stepped out, her long hair swaying gently in the monsoon breeze. Priya Reddy’s understated elegance made her stand out, her warm smile lighting up the rain-soaked street. "Robin, heading to the hospital? Hop in—I’ll drive."

"Priya Reddy? What are you doing here?" Aisha gasped, her eyes wide.