Chapter 1: The Spark of a Second Chance

Andheri, Mumbai.

Cafe coffee day.

“If there’s no issue with the divorce agreement, sign it,” Meera said, sliding the papers across the table to Arjun Sharma.

Meera, in her forties, flaunted a Vero Moda bag, a Forever 21 knit dress, and MANGO heels hugging her curvy legs. Her polished look screamed money—money Arjun had earned.

Arjun, opposite her, sported stubble, cheap clothes, and messy hair. At 1.85 meters, his slightly balding head betrayed his 45 years. He muttered, “I’ve got ₹500,000 in cash. You can take it all. Leave me the flat and the Maruti 800.”

“You want that junk car? Fine, take it. What else do you want? Don’t push it!” Meera shot him a disdainful glare, her voice dripping with contempt. Twenty years with this loser, she thought, fuming. He wasted my youth!

Arjun signed the papers, exhaling heavily. His marriage was over, his money gone. Born in 1980, part of Mumbai’s first ’80s generation, he’d barely caught the economic boom’s tail. His daughter, Priya, now 20 and just entering college, had recently submitted her admission forms. Over the years, Arjun’s ₹50,000 monthly salary went straight to Meera. Want a beer, a cigarette, or dinner with friends? He had to check Meera’s mood first.

The ₹500,000, his layoff compensation, now sat with Meera. Arjun had just ₹3,000 left. But damn, it felt good to be free!

He’d slaved away while Meera stayed home, “managing the household.” Priya, meanwhile, didn’t care about their divorce—she was focused on her new college life.

Meera snatched the papers, stuffing them into her bag. “Let’s go! civil court, final step.”

Arjun offered to drive her one last time, but Meera, without a word, flagged an auto-rickshaw and vanished. She never loved me, he thought. I was just a wallet when I had a job. Now I’m jobless, I’m nothing to her.

Dark clouds loomed over Mumbai, but Arjun’s weather app promised no rain. At the civil court, the divorce took a minute, though the queue ate up half an hour. As they left, Arjun thought of Priya. “Will Priya stay with me or you?”

“You got the flat, and you want me to raise her too?” Meera snapped. Twenty years ago, she was a struggling clerk, bullied at work, and financially helpless. Now, she was ruthless, her cruelty a stark contrast to her old vulnerability.

“I gave you all the money. How do I pay Priya’s college fees?” Arjun pressed.

Rain poured suddenly, a perfect backdrop to Meera’s roar. “You’re useless! Figure it out!”

“Drive me back!” she demanded, as if they were still married.

Arjun laughed. “Fifty bucks for the ride.”

Meera’s face twisted in rage. “You dare charge me? You’re unbelievable!”

“It’s less than five kilometers to your place. Why should I drive you for free?”

“This car…” Meera froze, remembering the Maruti 800 was his in the agreement.

Arjun slid into the driver’s seat and peeled away, leaving Meera cursing in the rain. “Arjun , you heartless dog!” she screamed, slipping in a puddle as she tried to kick the car.

Exploit me after the divorce? No chance, Arjun thought.

At 45, his life had been grim. His role at home? A wallet. His job? Earn ₹50,000 a month, hand it over. Meera spent ₹10,000 on herself—designer clothes, luxury bags—while most of the rest went to Priya. Household expenses? A few thousand. Arjun? He got less than their pet dog, eating whatever scraps remained.

He’d endured for a “complete family.” But with social media’s rise, Meera’s spending skyrocketed—luxury purchases draining their savings. She posted glamorous photos online, her curvy figure drawing 99+ DMs, calling herself a “thirty-something girl” at 43. Their fights grew constant.

This year, Arjun’s company downsized, replacing him with younger, hungrier workers. With no income, Meera saw no future with him. She pushed for divorce, but Arjun waited until Priya’s college forms were done. On July 7, it was final.

Online, people raved about women’s “awakening.” Arjun felt he was the one waking up.

At 18, he’d entered Mumbai University. At 22, he pursued a master’s there. At 24, he joined a tech firm, earning ₹20,000 a month. At 25, he met Meera, a junior employee at a subsidiary, and married her. At 26, Priya was born; Meera stayed home, and Arjun worked harder. By 35, his salary hit ₹50,000, but Meera’s spending stressed him out. At 45, he was laid off, giving all his compensation to Meera.

His phone buzzed: “Midlife Mastery System activated. With just ₹3000, you’ll become healthy and wealthy.”

System Benefits: Wealth Without Chains. No exploitation—every job you do yields 100% profit.

Temporary Task: You’re driving a Maruti 800. Run a few Ola orders. Complete 25 rides for ₹10,000.

Current Task Progress: 0/25

Maruti, you beauty! Arjun grinned.

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