Divorced for five months, I brought my new girlfriend home to tease my ex-wife, never expecting the scene that awaited me as soon as I opened the door…
My name is Rahul, 35 years old, I separated from my wife Priya exactly five months ago. Our marriage lasted six years, then collapsed from trivial arguments that developed into a permanent rift. Walking out of Lucknow court that day, I felt released, believing I had left that “suffocating” existence.
Weeks later, I met Neha – seven years younger, charming, and lively. Neha’s presence made me feel reborn, as if I were reliving lost youth. In a rash impulse, I thought of showing her to Priya, to prove that my “new beginning” was brighter.
That afternoon, the weather turned cool in late autumn. I dressed neatly and took Neha to Priya’s old house. Neha hesitated, muttering:
“Do you really need to do this? Honestly… it feels odd.”
I chuckled:
“What’s odd? I just want her to see that losing me was like losing everything.”
We stopped the car at the gate. My heart pounded hard, not with anxiety, but with swelling triumph. I rang the bell. Familiar footsteps echoed inside. The door opened… and I froze instantly.
The sight struck me cold.
Priya was not alone at the doorway. Beside her stood a small girl, about four years old, clutching her mother’s skirt, wide eyes fixed on me. What shattered me most was the man behind them – tall, plainly dressed, with warm eyes – casually resting his hand on Priya’s shoulder, like they had long belonged together.
Priya met my gaze, her tone calm, unshaken:
– “Rahul, why are you here?”
I faltered:
– “This… this…?”
The man stepped forward, providing his hand:
– “I’m Amit, Priya’s fiancé. And this is my daughter. She already calls Priya her mother.”
My cheeks burned. The word “fiancé” pierced my pride like a blade. I forced a smile, but my throat locked tight, speechless.
Neha stood beside me, stunned. She tugged gently at my hand, urging me to leave, yet I stood rooted, nailed in place. I couldn’t accept that the woman I once thought fragile and lost after divorce – now appeared radiant, steady, fulfilled.
Sh0ck gripped me.
Priya spoke softly, yet every word hi:t clearly:
“Rahul, you don’t need to prove anything. Both of us have new lives now, and I wish you peace.”
She then lifted the little girl and smiled tenderly at Amit.
In that instant, I understood – she had freed herself from the past, while I was trapped in arrogance and vanity.
Turning away, fists clenched, I felt an emptiness rising inside – not envy, but a hollow ache. On the drive back, Neha stayed silent, and only my pounding heart echoed louder and louder.
A late awakening
That night, sleep never came. Priya’s serene eyes and her smile beside Amit haunted me relentlessly. And I realized one truth:
Happiness is not a trophy to flaunt or a weapon to “mock” someone, but something precious to nurture while it lasts.
And I had lost it for good.
