Ved's past had already landed on Indian soil—
and he had no idea.
Kashvi checked into the hotel quietly. She and Kriday shared one room, while Krish stayed in another. That evening, they were scheduled to visit Ved's office. The same day, some of Ved's most important clients were arriving from London.
What Ved didn't know—
those clients were Kashvi Mehra herself.
Exactly at 5 p.m., Kashvi and Krish arrived at Oberoi Enterprises. This time, Kashvi wasn't stepping into that building as Ved's wife.
She walked in as a CEO.
"Sir, they've arrived," Gaurav informed Ved.
"Escort them to the meeting room with full respect," Ved said firmly. "They're extremely important clients."
Gaurav moved toward the entrance. The moment Kashvi stepped out of the car, he froze. Words abandoned him. For a second, he forgot how to breathe. Still, professionalism forced him back to reality, and he led Kashvi and Krish toward the meeting room.
Moments later, Ved entered.
Seeing Krish, he frowned slightly.
"Mr. Verma? What are you doing here? Our clients were supposed to arrive from London today."
At that moment, the chair at the head of the table slowly turned.
Kashvi Mehra sat there.
"Hello, Mr. Oberoi," she said, a sharp, sarcastic smile playing on her lips. "Nice to meet you again."
The air left Ved's lungs.
"K–Kashvi… you? What are you doing here?" he asked, a trace of happiness slipping into his voice despite himself.
She raised an eyebrow coolly.
"Mr. Oberoi, where are your etiquettes? Do you address your client by her first name?"
A pause.
"I'm Mrs. Mehra."
Ved stiffened.
"Kash— I mean, Mrs. Mehra… you're the client who came from London?"
Kashvi stood, extending her hand for a handshake—confident, composed, untouchable.
"Yes, Mr. Oberoi. And I believe you already know Mr. Krish Verma," she added smoothly.
"He's my co-founder."
The meeting continued.
Ved couldn't stop looking at her. Seeing Kashvi made him happy—and restless. His mind refused to understand how she was sitting across from him, striking deals, ruling the room with authority. Five years in London, and she had climbed heights he had never imagined.
She was no longer behind him.
She was facing him.
The meeting ended.
As Kashvi gathered her files, she spoke without looking at him.
"Mr. Oberoi, now that the professional discussion is over, let's move to our personal lives."
She met his eyes—cold, final.
"Tomorrow morning, 10 a.m. Come to this hotel. We need to sign the divorce papers."
The word divorce wiped every trace of a smile from Ved's face.
But before he could say anything—
before he could stop her—
Kashvi turned away and walked out of the room with a powerful, commanding stride.
Leaving him behind.