But Nandkumar was wrong about one thing.
The mess he had made was not finished.
It was only beginning.
Three weeks after he came to see Gaurika at the hospital, I received a call from Advika.
“Meera, I need you to come to my office.”
Her voice was unusually serious.
“Is something wrong?”
“There is another transaction.”
My stomach tightened.
“What transaction?”
“Money moved out of the medical account before the Goa booking.”
I sat down.
“How much?”
“₹3,75,000.”
I closed my eyes.
“That can’t be right. We already knew about the Goa payments.”
“This is different.”
She sent me the statement.
I stared at the screen.
The money had been transferred to an account belonging to a company called **Nandini Lifestyle Ventures**.
I had never heard of it.
“Who owns it?”
“That is what I need you to see.”
The next afternoon, I went to Advika’s office.
She placed a folder on the table.
“Look at the directors.”
I opened it.
The company had been registered eighteen months earlier.
There were two directors.
One was Nandkumar.
The other was a woman named Ishwari Khanna.
I felt something cold move through me.
“I don’t know her.”
“I assumed you didn’t.”
“Who is she?”
Advika pushed another document toward me.
A rental agreement.
The address was in Ahmedabad.
The same apartment where Nandkumar had stayed before our marriage.
I stared at the name again.
“Ishwari.”
“Yes.”
“Is she connected to his friends?”
Advika nodded.
“She appears to be.”
“His affair?”
“We can’t assume that yet.”
She pointed to the company records.
“But we can establish that she was financially connected to him.”
I remembered his Goa photographs.
The expensive hotel.
The new watch.
The restaurant.
The rented car.
The things he had called harmless.
Then I remembered the medical account.
₹8,40,000.
Money meant for our daughter.
Money he had looked me in the eye and promised to protect.
“Why would he transfer ₹3,75,000 to a company?”
Advika opened another document.
“Because he wasn’t just paying for a vacation.”
I looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“He was investing.”
“In what?”
She slid the final paper across the table.
A property booking agreement.
The purchaser was Nandini Lifestyle Ventures.
The booking amount was ₹11,50,000.
My hands went cold.
“Where is this property?”
“Ahmedabad.”
“Who was it for?”
Advika looked at me.
“We don’t know yet.”
I stared at the document.
Then something clicked.
Nandkumar had never been bad with money.
Not really.
He had always known exactly where money was going.
He knew which account held our savings.
He knew when my tailoring business had a good month.
He knew how much I had put aside for Gaurika.
He knew the value of our house.
He knew the date of her treatment.
And he had still taken the money.
Maybe the Goa trip had never been the real reason.
Maybe it had been a distraction.
“Advika,” I said slowly.
“Yes?”
“What if the vacation wasn’t what he was spending the money on?”
She leaned forward.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the trip was just the part I was supposed to see?”
She became very still.
We spent the next two days going through every transaction.
The pattern was frightening.
Hotel payments.
Jewellery.
Restaurants.
A luxury car rental.
Then transfers to the company.
Then cash withdrawals.
Then payments to a property developer.
And something else.
Payments to a school.
I froze.
“Why is he paying a school?”
Advika enlarged the statement.
The school was in Ahmedabad.
The student name was listed.
**Gaurika Nandkumar Sharma.**
My heart stopped.
“What?”
The payment was for our daughter’s school fees.
But the amount was not from our normal account.
It had come from the company.
Nandini Lifestyle Ventures.
“Why would he pay her school fees through a company?”
Advika shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at the screen.
Then another thought struck me.
“Check the medical payments.”
She searched.
There were two.
Both made through the same company.
I leaned back.
The company wasn’t simply hiding money.
It was being used to move family expenses around.
But why?
The answer came three days later.
Nandkumar’s lawyer contacted Advika.
He wanted to settle.
Not the divorce.
The financial dispute.
He offered ₹4 lakh.
Advika laughed when she told me.
“Four lakh?”
“Yes.”
“That is less than what he took from the medical account.”
“I know.”
“Why would he offer that?”
“Because he wants this over quickly.”
I thought about it.
“Then he is afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of us finding something.”
Advika nodded.
“Exactly.”
We refused.
Two weeks later, Nandkumar requested a private meeting.
I agreed.
Not alone.
Advika came with me.
We met at a quiet office.
He looked exhausted.
His expensive clothes were gone.
His hair was uncombed.
