“Are you sure. I mean he’s your husband, father to your child”?

Simi stood ramrod straight, her hands firmly clasped behind her back, her eyes a cold, granite stare. When she spoke, it was as if a harsh winter morning had just smashed through the windows sills and dislodged the autumnal warmth of a late October that was resolutely refusing to die out.

‘One hundred per cent freaking sure. There’s no going back. He deserves to die.’

Completely shaken by the sheer nauseating malice in her hate fuelled voice, Akshay withdrew a couple of steps, pushing himself further into the room.

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