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**Chapter 23: A Shadow in the Mist**
Aanya's life in London was structured, disciplined—precisely how she liked it. Each morning began with a quick jog through Russell Square, a strong cup of black coffee, and back-to-back lectures. By evening, she immersed herself in group projects or lost herself in the quietude of the university library. Her schedule was full, her calendar packed—everything aligned with her goal of breaking free, finding herself, and building the life she had once dared to dream before marriage became her detour.
Here, she wasn't someone's wife. She was just Aanya Sharma, MBA student. Independent. Ambitious. Unapologetic.
And yet… sometimes, when she returned to her small flat, slipped out of her heels, and rested against the window sill with a cup of chamomile tea, her mind wandered to him.
She hadn't heard from Arjun in a week. No texts. No calls. Not even an email.
Strangely, that silence felt louder than any argument they'd had before.
Maybe he was finally letting go.
---
Elsewhere in the city—unbeknownst to her—Arjun Mehta stood inside a glass conference room in Shoreditch, pitching his startup's UK expansion strategy to a potential investor. His voice was steady, polished. But his mind? Scattered.
He had landed in London two weeks ago.
He hadn't told her.
He knew she wouldn't welcome the news. So he waited. Set up a temporary base for his team. Hired local support. Started attending sessions with a therapist recommended by Shruti.
He told himself it was about the company. But deep down, he knew better.
He needed to be close. Even if she didn't want him around, the thought of being in the same city gave him a strange, desperate comfort.
---
On a chilly Thursday afternoon, Aanya was walking down Oxford Street with her classmate, Eva, after a branding workshop.
Eva was mid-rant about British weather when she stopped suddenly and pointed across the street. "Hey, wait… is that someone you know?"
Aanya followed her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat.
Across the street, standing near a Pret a Manger, was Arjun.
*No. No, that can't be him.*
But it was.
Tall frame. Familiar jacket. The way he tilted his head while reading something on his phone—it was unmistakable.
Her breath caught. "That's… my husband."
Eva blinked. "I thought you said you were separated?"
"I—I didn't know he was here."
She barely heard Eva's response as she crossed the street, legs moving on instinct.
"Arjun!"
He looked up, startled. His face drained of color for a second before it filled with something more complicated—guilt, relief, and unspoken longing.
"Aanya…"
She stopped two feet from him, trying to process the sight. "What the hell are you doing in London?"
He opened his mouth, hesitated, then said softly, "I'm… expanding the company here."
Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't tell me."
"I didn't think you'd want to know."
"That's not your decision to make," she said, her voice rising. "You followed me?"
"I didn't follow you. I came for work. But yes, I chose *London* because you're here. I won't lie."
She stared at him, disoriented. The street noise blurred. All she could hear was the thundering beat of her own heart.
"You don't get to do this, Arjun. Show up in a city I came to for space."
"I'm not here to crowd you," he said, voice even. "I've stayed away. I haven't reached out. I'm trying to give you time."
"Then *why* are you here?"
He took a breath. "Because I couldn't stay behind knowing we were breaking. I needed to be close—not to control you, but to understand you. I've started therapy. I'm trying to fix the parts of me that drove you away."
Aanya felt the wind knock out of her lungs. She didn't know what stunned her more—his confession or the sheer weight of how far he'd gone.
"Therapy?"
He nodded. "Twice a week. No lectures or guilt trips. Just… me trying to understand what I became."
She turned her face away, unsure whether to scream or cry.
"I didn't ask you to do all this," she whispered.
"No," he agreed. "But I couldn't just sit in Hyderabad pretending we were okay."
"Arjun…" she ran a hand through her hair, her voice cracking, "I met with a solicitor last week. For divorce."
His jaw clenched, but he didn't flinch. "I figured."
"You should've let me go."
"I'm not here to stop you," he said gently. "Just to remind you that I'm still trying."
---
That night, Aanya sat on her bed, staring at the cup of coffee he had handed her before they parted ways. She hadn't touched it.
She couldn't believe he was in London. That he was in therapy. That despite everything—despite her distance, her silence, her coldness—he was still trying.
And for the first time, she didn't feel anger. She felt… confusion.
Had she made him this way?
Or was he finally becoming the man she once wished he had been?
---
Meanwhile, Arjun walked back to his temporary apartment, heart aching but strangely calm. She had seen him. She hadn't screamed. She hadn't walked away.
That was something.
Progress, maybe.
He sat in front of his laptop and pulled up his next therapy assignment: *Write a letter to your partner without sending it.*
So he began.
*Dear Aanya,
You don't owe me anything—not love, not forgiveness, not a second chance.
But I owe you everything—an apology, honesty, and the man I failed to be.*
*I came to London not to haunt you, but to heal myself.
And if that healing leads us back to each other—someday—then maybe, just maybe, we'll start something real.*
He hit save. Closed his laptop. And waited—for her next move.
---
**[End of Chapter 23]**