Husband Demands Divorce, On Court Day, 7-Year-Old Daughter Asks Judge: “Sir, can I tell you a secret that Mom doesn’t know?” Leaving the Father Pale…
On Monday morning, the Mumbai sky was gloomy, as if someone had covered the windows of Courtroom 3 with a thin layer of dust. Arjun Sharma sat in the right-hand row, his white kurta wrinkled at the collar, his hand repeatedly clenching and releasing his switched-off phone. Opposite him was his wife, Priya Sharma, her face lightly made up but her eyes red and swollen, one hand clutching a stack of files, the other tightly holding her daughter’s hand.

The little girl, Anika Sharma, seven years old, had pigtails adorned with small pink bows. She looked around the courtroom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, then looked up at her father. Arjun quickly turned away, as if afraid that meeting those eyes would soften his heart.

Judge Rajeev Kapoor entered, his voice calm but cold: “Today the court hears Mr. Arjun’s divorce petition. The main dispute is child custody and alimony.” Arjun stood up, speaking quickly as if he had practiced all night: “I am seeking a divorce because my wife… no longer trusts me. She is controlling, suspicious without reason. I can’t stand it anymore.” Priya chuckled, her voice trembling but sharp: “Suspicious without reason? Who were you texting in the middle of the night? Were you on a business trip or with someone else? I have enough evidence.”

The atmosphere in the courtroom thickened. Arjun swallowed hard, his eyes glancing at the judge before looking down at the floor. Priya opened the file, pulling out printed text messages and hotel bills. Arjun reacted immediately: “It was all a misunderstanding. That person was just a business partner. The bill was paid by the company.”

The judge tapped his gavel lightly, turning to little Anika: “Do you have anything to say? Who do you want to live with?”

Anika clutched her mother’s saree, whispering, “I… I want you to stop crying.” Then, unexpectedly, she took a step forward, looking directly at the judge, her voice low but clear: “Sir, can I tell you a secret that my mother doesn’t know?”

The courtroom fell silent. Arjun froze. The color drained from his face so quickly that his cheeks were visibly pale. He instinctively jumped to his feet: “Anika—you… don’t say it…”

She didn’t turn to look at her father. She only looked at the judge, her clear, dark eyes serious as an adult’s. And then Anika nodded slightly, as if she had made up her mind.

Judge Kapoor leaned slightly, maintaining a calm, reassuring tone: “Okay, go ahead. But speak slowly. I’m listening.”

Anika took a breath, her small hand tightening its grip on the hem of her uniform. “That day… it was Friday night. My mother said she was working overtime, and I was staying home with my grandmother.” The little girl glanced at her grandmother, who was sitting at the back of the room, then continued, each word clear and distinct, as if recounting a story she had replayed many times in her head. “Grandma went to bed early. I stayed up watching cartoons. I heard the door open. I thought Mom was home, but she wasn’t.”

Arjun stammered, “Anika, you’re mistaken… I—”

The judge gestured for Arjun to sit down. “Arjun, let me speak.”

Anika swallowed hard. “I saw Dad come home. He didn’t turn on the lights. He walked very quietly. He spoke softly to a woman… she was wearing a red saree.” Priya snatched her daughter’s hand, her eyes widening, “What did you say?”

The little girl flinched but continued, her voice trembling slightly, “Dad and she went into the study. I heard laughter. I was curious, so… I went over. The door wasn’t closed properly. I peeked through the crack.” Anika lowered her head, as if ashamed for having peeked. “I saw Dad give her an envelope. She said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep the files. Priya won’t know.’”

Priya’s face turned pale, her lips moved but no words came out. Arjun sat frozen, his throat tightening.

Judge Kapoor frowned: “Do you remember who she was? Have you ever met her before?”

Anika nodded: “I’ve met her. She… often came to Dad’s workshop. The repair shop on Dadabhai Naoroji Road. She often talked to Dad. She often smiled. I remember she had a mole near her mouth.” She touched her finger to the corner of her lip to illustrate. The atmosphere in the courtroom shifted from tense to heavy, as if a rock had been dropped in the middle. Priya spun around to Arjun: “You brought someone home? Right when I was at work?” Her voice trembled with anger and pain. “An envelope? What files? What are you hiding from me?”

Arjun stood up, trying to regain his composure, but his words were jumbled: “No… it’s not what you think. Anika just overheard… She’s an employee—”

Priya burst out laughing, a harsh laugh: “What kind of employee comes into the house at night? A red saree? Do you think I’m stupid?”

Judge Kapoor looked at Arjun: “Mr. Arjun, your testimony relates to a ‘file.’ Can you explain?”

Arjun looked down at the floor, his hands trembling. He knew that in that moment, the “secret” was no longer just an affair. It touched upon something he had been trying to hide for so long: his debt and mortgage papers.

He gasped: “Your Honor… it’s true that someone came that day. But not what everyone thinks. Her name is Riya Verma, she works in paperwork services. I… I asked her to handle some files.”

Priya snarled, “What files?”

Arjun fell silent. For too long. Every passing second felt like a knife cutting into Priya’s heart.

Anika looked up, her eyes welling up with tears: “I… I also heard Riya say, ‘If Priya finds out, she’ll stop you from selling that car. You have to sign quickly.’” She turned to her mother, her voice pleading, “Mom, don’t be angry with me. I was afraid you’d be upset, so I hid it. But today the judge asked… I don’t want you to be deceived again.”

A child’s “deceived” hit the adult hard.

Priya took a step back, as if slapped. “Which car? Which car did you sell?” She turned to the judge, her voice choked but trying to sound clear: “Your Honor, my family only owns a small truck and a small car… the car is shared property. Arjun couldn’t have done it on his own—”

Arjun interrupted, as if in despair: “I did it to pay off debts! What do you know? If I don’t pay, they’ll take the whole workshop, the whole house!”

Priya stood speechless. “What debt? How much did you borrow? When?”

Arjun didn’t answer, only put his hand to his forehead. Judge Kapoor glanced at the clerk for a moment, then said slowly, “The court is adjourned to verify information regarding assets and liabilities. But first, I want to ask: Mr. Arjun, did you conceal your financial situation, shared assets, or engage in any asset transfers during the marriage?”

Arjun looked up. His eyes held a mixture of panic and exhaustion. He looked at his daughter, as if compelled by her tiny eyes to tell the truth.

When the court adjourned, Priya pulled Anika into the hallway, her hands still trembling. She knelt before her daughter, wanting to hug her but also afraid of hurting her. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Anika burst into tears, her tears streaming down her face: “I was afraid you’d cry like you did when you saw Dad’s message. I… I thought if I kept quiet, everyone would be happy again. I was wrong.”

Priya hugged her daughter tightly. In that moment, all anger towards Arjun was pushed aside by another pain: his seven-year-old daughter had taken on an adult secret, trying to be the “mediator” in the house.

Across the hallway, Arjun slumped into a chair, his elbows resting on his knees. He no longer had the tough demeanor he had displayed when entering the courtroom. He stared into space as if seeing a series of sleepless nights.

Judge Kapoor called both sides back in. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to bring everyone back on track: “The court continues. I request that Mr. Arjun clearly present the debt, its source, and supporting documents. And explain why he used a service to handle the ‘documents’ related to the sale of the car.” Arjun stood up, as if forced to step into the light. “Your Honor… I borrowed over thirty lakh (approximately 300 million VND) at high interest rates. Initially, it was only ten lakh to import parts, then I lost money… I borrowed from one place to cover another. I hid it from my wife because I was afraid she would worry, afraid she would leave me.” He gave a wry smile, mocking himself. “But the more you hide it, the worse it gets.”

Priya clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “You hid it from me, and then you unilaterally planned to sell the car? What am I to you in this marriage?”

Arjun replied, his voice hoarse, “I intended to sell the car to pay off some of the debt, then start over. I planned… to tell you later. I didn’t bring someone home to betray you.” He paused, glancing at Anika. “I just… didn’t want our child to see us arguing over money.”

Judge Kapoor looked straight at her: “But you let your child overhear conversations that children shouldn’t hear. And transferring shared assets while in dispute could be detrimental to you when the court considers the case.”

Priya pulled a stack of papers from her bag, her voice trembling but no longer weak: “Your Honor, this is the bank statement I printed this morning. For the past three months, Mr. Arjun has transferred money multiple times to an unknown account. A total of nearly seven lakh.” She turned to Arjun, her eyes red but sharp: “You said you didn’t betray me? Then what was that money?”

Arjun looked at the papers, his face falling. “That…it’s interest. I transferred it to Riya’s account to give to them. I was afraid you’d see the transaction with the lender.” He sighed, as if draining all the air from his lungs. “I didn’t cheat. But I lied.”

The truth was unlike what Priya had imagined. It didn’t lighten her burden. It only made her feel like she had been living next to a stranger for so long.

Judge Kapoor took notes, then asked again: “Does Mr. Arjun have loan documents? A contract, a receipt?”

Arjun shook his head: “Only handwritten notes…and text messages.” He hesitated. “I know it was wrong.”

Priya closed her eyes. At this point, she suddenly understood why Arjun was so stubborn about the divorce: he wasn’t just afraid of being blamed by his wife; He feared that the debt scandal would drag the whole family down, and he wanted to cut Priya out of that hole. But the way he chose was the way to shatter everything.

Judge Kapoor turned to Priya: “Ms. Priya, in your request, you want to raise Anika. What conditions do you have to guarantee that?”

Priya replied, her voice firm: “I am the chief accountant, with a stable income. I have my mother’s house in Andheri, where I can stay temporarily. I won’t prevent her from seeing her father, but I need a stable environment, free from secrets and debt.”

Arjun’s eyes welled up when he heard “won’t prevent” her. He looked at Anika, trying to smile, but his lips twisted. “I’m sorry, my daughter.”

Anika stood up, walked to the center of the courtroom, and softly said: “Dad, don’t lie anymore. I don’t need you to be rich. I just need you not to make Mom cry.”

That statement wasn’t dramatic in an adult way, but it silenced the entire courtroom because everyone knew: a child uttered the simplest thing, something adults spend their whole lives learning.

Judge Kapoor concluded: “The court notes that there is serious marital conflict due to dishonesty, concealment of financial obligations, and evidence of asset transfer. Regarding child custody, the court prioritizes the stability and best interests of the child. Anika is temporarily placed under the direct care of her mother. Arjun has the right to visitation according to a schedule and the obligation to provide child support as stipulated. Regarding the debt, the court requests both parties to provide evidence to determine whether it is a joint or separate debt.”

Priya hugged her child, tears falling, but this time they were not tears of helplessness. Arjun stood still for a long time, then bowed his head deeply: “I accept.”

As everyone stood up to leave, Arjun stepped in front of Priya, not daring to touch his child. He only said one sentence, so softly it was almost a whisper to himself: “I thought hiding it was protecting… but it turned out to be pushing you and your child further apart.”

Priya didn’t reply immediately. She looked at Arjun, then at Anika. Finally, she said, as if drawing a line: “From today, if you want to be the father of our child, start with the truth.”