TARA's POV

The gigantic party poppers blasted, and I flinched, standing in the middle of a crowd of teenagers and twenty-somethings. My heart crumbled at the sight of the celebration in full swing.

My sister-in-law, Jaya Patel, had organized the party to celebrate my upcoming divorce. Thirty days were still left until it was finalized, but Jaya was eager to throw a farewell party for me at the Divan mansion.

Jaya wanted me out of the Divan family, which was why she hosted the party. Nikhil and Rachana, the eldest couple in the Divan family, stood silently in a corner, understanding my pain. I gave them a strained smile, knowing they were not happy about what was happening in my life.

Two men approached me—Dhruv Pathak and Rivan Gupta, my biggest supporters.

"Look at the 'Sun' team; they're dancing happily. We, the 'Star' team, need to dance better than them and prove we're the best," my best friend, Dhruv, declared.

"I agree," my twin brother, Rivan, added, patting Dhruv's shoulder.

Dhruv, Rivan, and I had one thing in common: the meaning of our names was 'star.' Dhruv's mother and my mother had been best friends, and Dhruv had been a charming presence in our lives since childhood.

I glanced at the members of the Star team. Dhruv and Rivan gestured for me to join them on the dance floor, but I wasn't interested. I didn't want this party to happen, but everything was unfolding because of Jaya's insistence.

"Thank God my brother is divorcing you!" Jaya shouted into the microphone, her voice brimming with joy.

"Good decision, Tara!" Mahira Pathak, Dhruv's sister, chimed in, standing beside Jaya.

Mahira and Jaya belonged to the 'Sun' team. Their names both meant 'sun,' and the head of their team was my husband, who was notably absent from the party. Jaya and Mahira's friends had already arrived, and the dance floor was chaotic with their enthusiasm.

On the other side of the garden, Jaya and Mahira's photoshoot session with the photographers irritated me. I tried to control my emotions, feeling overwhelmed by my life.

Even though the 'Sun' and 'Star' teams had been enemies since childhood, I had secretly had a crush on my husband for as long as I could remember. Every year, from childhood to now, my husband and I had celebrated our birthday together since we shared the same birthdate.

Our teenage years had been filled with playful fights and arguments between the two teams. Most of the time, the disputes were fun, but there was one rare occasion when things escalated into a physical fight between my husband and Dhruv.

On my husband's 18th birthday, he changed from an extrovert to an introvert, and I was baffled by the sudden shift in his personality.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Rivan brushed my shoulder. My silence was making Dhruv and Rivan feel uneasy. I extended my fist toward them with a genuine smile. Dhruv and Rivan responded by bumping their fists against mine. It was a symbol of our Star team.

"We, the Star team, will shine brighter than the Sun team," I announced, hiding my pain from them.

We joined the dance floor reluctantly, the party taking place in the garden area of the Divan mansion. As I danced half-heartedly to a jazz song, Mahira placed a white satin sash over my shoulder. I glared at her and tried to remove it, but Jaya ordered me not to.

"Divorcee-to-be!" Jaya read the words on the sash with glee.

"Your creativity is amazing!" Mahira praised Jaya's idea.

"Nonsense!" Rivan snapped, reaching to remove the sash, but Dhruv stopped him.

"Rivan, it's just a game. Let's play along," Dhruv said, trying to diffuse the situation.

I hated everyone around me. No one seemed to care about the anguish and pain I was experiencing. I saw Jaya grab the microphone from someone in the crowd.

"To our soon-to-be divorcee, Tara Divan, who's becoming Tara Gupta again, say it with me, friends. Hip, hip!" Jaya's voice blared through the speakers.

"Hooray!" Mahira, Dhruv, and Rivan shouted together.

I stood frozen in the crowd, remembering my wedding to my husband three years ago. It had been a simple and strange affair, with my mother on her deathbed, urging me to sign the marriage papers with Mr. Divan.

I hated myself as everyone around me celebrated my divorce. No one seemed to care about my pain or anxiety. Rage boiled inside me as I struggled to keep my emotions in check.

"Hip, hip!" Jaya shouted again.

"Hooray!" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I lowered my head, tears stinging my eyes.

I didn't even know why my anger always turned into tears. A single drop of salty water slid down my cheek and fell to the ground.

"Come on, stop crying. You need to say 'hooray,'" Jaya whispered near my ear.

"Hip, hip!" Jaya continued.

"Hooray!" I muttered, along with my brother and friends, my gaze still fixed on the ground.

"Hip, Hi..." Jaya's voice suddenly cut off as the microphone slipped from her hand.

The crowd didn't finish the cheer. Silence filled the party—the kind of silence I had longed for. I lifted my head to see why everyone had gone quiet.

I met his hazel eyes, and a flame sparked in my heart. The crowd had fallen silent because my husband had arrived. Did I mention that my husband has intermittent explosive disorder? Yes, he does.

"Ishaan!" Jaya called out to him in a falsely innocent voice.

"Not a word!" Ishaan roared.

He looked incredibly alluring, as always, in his black tuxedo and white shirt with a black tie. He had to be the sexiest man alive.

"Everyone, out of my house!" Ishaan thundered, directing his fury at Jaya and Mahira's friends.

Abjit Patel, Jaya's husband, who had arrived with Ishaan, helped usher the crowd out of the garden.

I noticed Ishaan's knuckles turning white with frustration.

"Tara, go to our bedroom. Now," Ishaan commanded in his usual booming voice.

I trailed from the garden area to the mansion. My pace slowed as I entered the living area, heading towards the bedroom.

Opening the door, I started packing my important belongings from the closet. I paused when I saw his things near mine.

Ishaan shared his bedroom with me but not his heart, body, or soul. I sighed and continued gathering my stuff.

"What the hell was going on in the garden?" Ishaan's sudden question made me flinch as he marched into the room, his face grim.

"A party for our divorce," I replied, watching him remove his black tuxedo.

"Whose stupid idea was that?" Ishaan asked, throwing the tuxedo onto the sofa.

I wasn't ready to create conflict between Jaya and Ishaan, so I decided to take the blame.

"It was my idea," I exhaled, walking towards the sofa.

Ishaan grunted as I lied. I folded the tuxedo and placed it in the laundry bag.

"You're lying. You didn't do that," Ishaan murmured as I returned to the closet.

"Mr. Divan, the party is over. Can we talk about something else?" I tried to change the topic, frustratedly pushing things from the closet into my suitcase.

"Did Jaya organize the party?" Ishaan asked, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

I didn't reply, distracted by the veins bulging on his arms. He looked striking. I am a crazy person who adores my husband whom I am going to divorce.

Silently, I moved from the closet to the bed in the corner of the room.

In one swift motion, Ishaan pinned me against the wall. I hadn't expected that from him. The closeness between us made my heart pound.

"Jaya did it, didn't she?" he asked again, the veins on his forehead bulging this time.

Stop being so attractive, Ishaan, I thought, trying to recollect what he said.

"No, I did," I lied once more, and he believed me.

"Why?" he snorted.

My heart raced as his hand moved toward my chest. I communicated silently with my eyes, begging him not to touch me.

"Why did you organize a party for our divorce?" Ishaan questioned, his fingers brushing the satin band across my chest, which read "Divorcee-to-be."

Only then did I realize that his hand had been reaching for the sash, not me.

"To celebrate our divorce," I confessed, as Ishaan tore the satin sash in half with his strong hands.

I felt pity—not for Ishaan, but for the torn satin sash now prostrate at my feet.

"Seriously? You're absurd. I hate you," Ishaan mocked.

"When you're grumpy, I can be absurd. I hate you too," I retorted.

Ishaan glared at me, and the tension between us grew thicker.

"You wanted a divorce. I'm ready for it. That's why I organized the celebration," I murmured.

I knew I was provoking him, but I couldn't control my tongue. It wanted an argument.

"I even wanted to celebrate it with you," Ishaan scoffed, leaning his face closer to mine, leaving me speechless.

"Only with you," he confessed, his eyes lingering on my lips.

My breathing quickened as I felt his breath on my face. His lips pressed against mine, catching me completely off guard. He kissed me deeply, fueled by frustration.

I raised my hands in shock, as though surrendering like a criminal caught by the police.

This was our first kiss in three years of marriage. I parted my lips, allowing him full access to my mouth. Though his kiss began roughly, it softened as he explored every inch of my lips, making me curl my toes.

His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me from my stomach to my heart. I grazed his trimmed beard with my hands, savoring every moment. Our fingers interlocked as we lost ourselves in the kiss.

To be honest, his lips were soft. I had always imagined them to be rough. His soft kisses on my lips gave me an ethereal moment with Ishaan.

The sound of the door opening caused us to pull apart quickly. My eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the person standing at the threshold.

Though our lips were no longer touching, Ishaan's proximity remained unchanged. I glanced at my husband, who didn't seem to care about the presence of the person standing at the doorway.

Who was standing outside the bedroom?

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The second chapter will be out tomorrow. Bye.