The Cold Anniversary

The clock on the living room wall ticked loudly. It was 11:30 PM.

Kiara sat alone at the long dining table. The large crystal chandelier above her was turned off. Only a small side lamp gave some light in the huge, empty house. The food on the table was completely cold now. Her favorite chicken curry, the expensive wine, the chocolate cake—everything was ruined.

Today was her third wedding anniversary. Three years of being Mrs. Aryan Singhania.

Kiara looked down at her hands. She was wearing a simple red dress. It was Aryan's favorite color. Or at least, she thought it was. For the past three years, she did everything a perfect wife should do. She cooked for him. She waited for him every night. She never complained when he came home late with the smell of alcohol on his shirts. She just smiled and took care of him.

She was the perfect wife. But for Aryan, she was just a ghost living in his house.

Suddenly, the sound of a car engine broke the silence outside. Kiara's heart did a small jump. She quickly stood up and smoothed her red dress. She took a deep breath. Maybe today he remembered. Maybe today he would actually look at her and smile.

The front door opened with a loud click.

Aryan walked in. He looked tired but very handsome in his dark grey business suit. He took off his tie and threw it on the sofa.

Kiara forced a small smile on her face and took a step forward. "You are late," she said softly. "The food got cold. I can heat it up for you if you want."

But her smile died instantly.

Aryan was not alone. Someone else stepped into the house right behind him. It was a woman. She had long, perfect blonde hair and she was wearing a very short black dress. She wrapped her arm around Aryan's arm tightly.

Rhea.

Kiara felt a cold pain in her chest. She knew exactly who this woman was. Rhea was Aryan's first love. She went to Paris five years ago to become a top model and left Aryan broken. Kiara knew this because every time Aryan got heavily drunk, he called out Rhea's name in his sleep. Not Kiara's.

Rhea looked at Kiara from top to bottom. She gave a nasty, mocking smile. "Oh, look at her. She is still awake, Aryan. I told you she would wait for you like a good little puppy."

Aryan didn't even look at Kiara's face. He gently pulled his arm away from Rhea and walked towards the dining table. He looked at the cold food, the candles, and the cake. He didn't look guilty at all. He just looked annoyed.

He put his hand in his coat pocket and took out a thick brown envelope. He threw it on the table. It landed right next to the anniversary cake.

"Sign them," Aryan said. His voice was flat and cold. There was no emotion in his dark eyes.

Kiara looked at the brown envelope. Her hands suddenly felt numb. She didn't want to touch it. "What is this, Aryan?" she asked, her voice shaking just a little bit.

"Divorce papers," Aryan replied easily, like he was talking about the weather. "Rhea is back in the country. She is the only woman I ever loved, and I am going to marry her. You knew this from the start, Kiara. Our marriage was just a business deal for my sick grandfather. He is dead now. The deal is over. I don't need to play this boring game with you anymore."

Rhea walked up and stood next to Aryan. She laughed softly. "Don't cry now, Kiara. Aryan is being very generous. He is giving you a million dollars in the divorce settlement. For a poor orphan like you, that is a lot of money. You can go buy a small house somewhere and live comfortably."

Kiara looked at Rhea, and then at Aryan. For three years, she gave this man her heart, her time, and her respect. And he was throwing her away like garbage. He thought she was just a poor, helpless girl who was lucky to marry a billionaire.

Aryan crossed his arms. "Take the money, sign the papers, and pack your bags. I want you out of my house by tomorrow morning. Rhea will be moving in."

He expected Kiara to cry. He expected her to fall on her knees and beg him not to leave her.

But Kiara didn't cry. Not a single tear fell from her eyes. The soft, loving wife vanished. Instead, she stood up straight. She picked up a pen from the side table. Without reading a single page, she signed her name on the bottom of the papers.

Aryan frowned. He looked a bit surprised. "You are not going to read the terms?"

"I don't need your dirty money, Aryan," Kiara said. Her voice was no longer soft. It was colder than ice.

She turned around and walked up the stairs to her room. She didn't pack her clothes. She didn't take the expensive jewelry Aryan's family gave her. She only took her phone, her passport, and a small black card.

When she came back downstairs, Aryan and Rhea were sitting on the sofa, drinking the wine she had bought for the anniversary. Kiara walked past them without looking back. She opened the front door and stepped out into the cold night.

As soon as she was outside the gate, she took out her phone. She dialed a number she hadn't called in three years.

It rang twice before a deep, respectful voice answered. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Uncle Vikram," Kiara said softly. "It's me. Kiara."

There was a loud gasp on the other side of the phone. "Princess? My god, Princess Kiara! Is that really you? The old master has been looking for you everywhere!"

"I'm done hiding, Uncle Vikram," Kiara said, looking back at the huge Singhania mansion one last time. "Send the cars. Tell my grandfather... the Heiress of the Rathore Empire is coming home."