Two months after I signed our divorce papers, I found my ex-wife sitting alone in a hospital corridor, thin and shivering with an IV in her arm—and suddenly every reason I’d left her dissolved into regret.

I ran down the stairs.

Rohit was already there, standing in front of the lobby doors, holding Lakshmi and Priya back.

A news camera was rolling.

A reporter held a microphone out to Lakshmi.

“—our poor daughter,” Lakshmi was saying, fake tears streaming down her face.

“This man, Arjun, he kidnapped her after the divorce. He won’t let us see her. We’ve been worried sick for months. We just want to take our baby home.”

Priya nodded, wiping fake tears from her eyes.

“She’s our sister. We love her. We just want to help her through her cancer.”

I saw red.

I marched up to the camera.

Stood right in front of it.

“Turn that camera off,” I said.

My voice was low, dangerous.

The reporter blinked.

“Sir, we’re just doing a story—”

“I said turn it off. Or I’ll sue every single one of you for defamation. You have no idea what these women have done.”

I turned to Lakshmi and Priya.

The whole lobby was watching now.

Patients, nurses, doctors.

All staring.

“You want to tell the truth?” I snarled.

“Or should I?”

Lakshmi’s face hardened.

“Arjun, don’t make a scene. Let us see Maya.”

“Make a scene? You brought a news crew to a cancer ward to pretend you care about the daughter you called a curse two months ago. You refused to donate bone marrow to save her life. You told her not to come crawling back when she was dying alone.”

I pulled out my phone.

Pulled up the text Lakshmi had sent Maya.

Held it up to the camera.

“Read it. ‘Don’t come crawling back. You brought this curse on yourself. We have no daughter anymore.’ That’s what you sent her when she told you she had cancer. That’s the truth.”

The reporter’s eyes went wide.

The camera kept rolling.

Lakshmi’s face turned red.

“That’s a fake!” she screamed.

“He made that up! He’s poisoning our daughter against us!”

“Is it?” I said.

I pulled up the call log from the day I’d asked for Priya’s bone marrow.

Hit speaker.

Lakshmi’s voice filled the lobby.

Cold, sharp, clear as day.

“You want Priya to donate bone marrow? To her? After everything she’s done to this family? No. Priya is getting married next month. We can’t have her laid up, sick, for a curse. The answer is no. Don’t ever call this number again.”

The lobby went silent.

You could hear a pin drop.

Lakshmi and Priya stared at the phone.

White as sheets.

Then the crowd started to boo.

“Shame!” someone yelled.

“How could you do that to your own daughter?”

“Get out of here!”

The reporter turned the camera off.

Shook her head at Lakshmi.

“We’re not running this story. You two should leave. Now.”

Lakshmi opened her mouth to argue.

Then she saw the crowd closing in.

Grabbed Priya’s arm.

Ran for the doors.

I turned to the crowd.

“Thank you,” I said.

“All of you. For listening.”

Rohit clapped me on the back.

“Nice work, man.”

I ran back up to Maya’s room.

She was standing by the door.

She’d heard everything.

Tears streaming down her face.

But they weren’t sad tears.

They were angry.

And relieved.

“Give me the phone,” she said.

I handed it to her.

She called Lakshmi.

Put it on speaker.

Lakshmi answered, screaming.

“—you little traitor! You’ll pay for this! You’ve ruined this family—”

“Shut up.”

Maya’s voice was steady.

Strong.

Stronger than I’d ever heard it.

“You are not my family. Family doesn’t call their sick daughter a curse. Family doesn’t let her die alone. You did that. You and Priya both. I never want to hear from you again. If you ever come near me, near Arjun, near this hospital again, I will get a restraining order. I will press charges for harassment. Do you understand me?”

Lakshmi sputtered.

“Maya, you don’t mean that—”

“I do. You lost me the day you sent that text. I have a real family now. People who love me. Who fight for me. You’re dead to me.”

She hung up.

Blocked the number.

Handed me the phone.

Then she collapsed into my arms.

Sobbing, but lighter.

Like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her shoulders.

“It’s over,” she whispered.

“They can’t hurt me anymore.”

I held her tight.