Anushka sat alone in her dimly lit office, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy burden. Tears streamed down her cheeks unnoticed, her hands trembled as she tried in vain to stem the tide of emotion threatening to engulf her.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear the soft click of the door opening or the quiet footsteps that approached her desk. It was only when a gentle hand brushed against her cheek that she looked up, startled, to see Virat standing before her, his expression filled with concern.

"Mona Lisa," he said softly, his voice laced with worry. "Are you alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. She tried to speak, to find the words to convey the overwhelming turmoil swirling within her, but all she could manage was a choked sob.

Without a word, he pulled a hanky from his pocket and held it out to her.

Anushka's throat was tight with emotion as she took it gratefully. Shaking her head, she huffed, ignoring her ex's questioning look. "Don't" she warned, "Don't look at me like that, like you have the right to worry about me when another man hurts my feelings".

"Anush-".

The slam of the door cut him off, the clickety-clack of her heels against the marble floor the only response he was going to get.

***

It was later that night when she finally got home. Kicking her heels off, she grabbed the bottle of vodka from the side and threw herself onto the sofa, surfing through channels until something caught her attention.

"Little has been revealed about Mr Aditya Hooda's part to play in his wife's murder, but it's clear the police have their main suspect".

An image crackled onto the screen, one that made Anushka's heart skip a beat. There she was, Zoya, a woman who looked like a mirror reflection of the woman now wide-eyed and staring into the TV.

Caramel-toned hair, dark brown eyes and a slender figure that matched in every way, and God, she wished that was all, but the only differences were a silver ring in Zoya's nose and the fact her hair was wavy while her own was straight.

Shock coursed through her veins as she studied the image, her eyes tracing the features that mirrored her own over and over again with unsettling precision. Suddenly, it all made sense; Aditya's anger, his sadness, his absolution that she was his wife, for a second even she'd believed it after seeing herself in his wife the way she just had.

How it was possible that she and Zoya could look so alike, down to the smallest detail, she did not know. It was as if fate itself had conspired to blur the lines between them, weaving a tangled web of confusion and uncertainty.

Torn between disbelief and a growing sense of dread, she struggled to make sense of the revelation before her. What did it mean? And more importantly, what did it mean for Aditya, who sat in a jail cell accused of a crime he may not have committed?

***

Anushka sat at her desk, pouring over the thick stack of case files spread out before her. The harsh fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the room, their cold glare reflecting the turmoil churning within her. As she flipped through page after page, her eyes fell upon a detail that made her blood run cold.

Aditya's first wife had cheated on him.

The words stared back at her from the page, stark and unforgiving. A wave of empathy washed over her as she imagined the pain and betrayal Aditya must have felt upon discovering his wife's infidelity. It was a wound that ran deep, leaving scars that may never fully heal. It was one she knew all too well.

As she read on, another memory surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome. It was a scene she had tried to forget, buried beneath layers of hurt and resentment.

She was with Virat, her heart full of love and trust when she stumbled upon the truth – he had been unfaithful, his betrayal cutting her to the core. The pain of that discovery had been a dagger to her heart, tearing apart the foundation of their relationship and leaving her adrift in a sea of doubt and despair.

Her vision blurred with tears, hands trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. The wounds of the past were reopened with a cruel and merciless force, the pain as raw and visceral as the day it had first been inflicted.

As if second nature, she dragged open her desk drawer, yanked out the small bottle of vodka and downed it like her life depended on it, this was the only burn she welcomed, the only fire she happily burnt in.

***

Anushka stood before Aditya, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him sift through the documents she had provided – her birth certificate, passport, and family photos. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on her, his silence more deafening than any words could be.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cold and detached. "It appears I was mistaken".

Her heart sank at the lack of warmth in his tone, the distance he had erected between them like an impenetrable wall. "Mr Hooda, why do you seem so angry? I thought you'd be happy to know your wife wasn't part of this plan to frame you?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

He laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls of the room like a cruel mockery. "Why am I angry?" he repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Well, if you're not Zoya, that means she really is dead, doesn't it? So not only am I a widow for the second time in my life before I've even hit forty, but I'm also apparently a murderer, let's just pop open the champagne now, shall we? Which achievement shall we celebrate first?"

Anushka's breath caught in her throat at his words. In her rush to prove she wasn't his wife, she'd forgotten what that revelation would mean. Fuck. She really was dense sometimes. Closing her eyes and releasing a languid breath, she edged closer "I understand that this is difficult for you,"

"You understand nothing!" He roared, pinching the brim of his nose, he exhaled roughly. "You gave me hope only to dash it away, do you know what that does to someone like me? Hope is such a dangerous thing, it keeps me alive and that's the worst thing you can give me" his teeth ground down, "The worst".

Feeling her heart sink at the biting tone of his words, she grimaced. "Mr Hooda, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm just trying to help."

He scoffed, the sound filled with bitterness. "Help?" he repeated, his tone laced with disdain. "Tell me how it helps to know my wife is dead? Oh, that's right, it does help you, now the scary murderer won't be looking at you like you put the stars in the sky anymore, fan-fucking-tastic" his words dripped with sarcasm.

She felt her cheeks burn with humiliation, the sting of his words a sharp reminder of the coldness of the situation. "I understand you're angry" she ignored his scowl in favour of continuing, "But that doesn't mean you take it out on me, too many times have I been the woman that must always bend until she breaks to feed a man's ego, I will never be that again, perhaps that's what you're used to but-".

Aditya rose like a storm "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"N-nothing just that-".

"Zoya is, was" he shut his eyes as he corrected himself, "Not only kind and beautiful, she was the smartest woman in the room, her light so bright it blinded me, we worked together for a while, managing events, believe me when I tell you that almost every idea was hers and you best believe she got the credit for it, and that was before we even became friends".

"I had no idea, I-".

Cutting her off once more, he chuckled coldly. "Course you didn't, how could you? You assumed, just like everyone else. Perhaps the boys you know make you feel less than you are to make themselves feel better, bigger somehow, but I am a man and that's the difference here, I am not fearful of a woman's success, even if it is more than mine, even if it outshines mine, because do you know what I learnt? When a woman shines, only a fool hides his eyes from the light".

With a dropped jaw, she felt her body lull backwards as he shoved past her shoulder to ask for a guard to return him to his holding cell. Turning to watch him leave, she swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat harshly, only one thought in her mind; he quite possibly could have been the first real man she'd ever met, the first murderer too.