Knowing that my ex-wife had married a poor man, I started making fun of her – but one look at her made me realize I was the loser.

I am Arjun Mehta, a former student of the Department of Economics at Delhi University.
During my four years in college, Priya Sharma and I were in love.

She was very polite and sweet, and always took care of me, from food and clothing to homework.

Priya loved me unconditionally – and at that time, I accepted that love naturally.

After graduating, I was quickly accepted to work at a foreign company in Mumbai, where I was offered a high salary and a wonderful environment.

As for Priya, no matter how hard she tried, she could only find a job as a receptionist in a small hotel in Jaipur.

At that time, I gave myself the right to choose.

I broke up with Priya, saying coldly:

“I want someone who can move forward with me – not a girl who just hangs around at the reception desk.”

She cried until she was exhausted, but I walked away without a second glance.

I felt I deserved another woman – the daughter of company director Riya Malhotra.

And I married her, believing my life had reached a “different level.”

Five years later, I became a deputy sales manager at my father-in-law’s company.

It sounded good, but in reality, I was just a servant in the Malhotra family.

Every day, I faced the contemptuous gaze of my wife – who looked down on me because “I wasn’t worthy of being her father’s successor.”

The food in my house was cold, every sentence heavy as iron.

And then, one afternoon, an old friend texted:

“Arjun, did you hear? Priya is getting married! I heard the groom is a poor mason from Jaipur. How pathetic!”

I laughed sarcastically.

The image of Priya, dressed in an old sari, with a tired face, walking into the narrow wedding hall.

I decided to go—not to bless her, but to mock her, to tell her that she had “lost a successful man like me.”

That day, I was driving a luxury car, wearing an Armani suit and a Swiss watch.

When I got out of the car, people around me turned to look. I felt proud, I felt like I stood out in the crowd.

But then, when I saw the groom, my heart suddenly stopped.

That man… I recognized him immediately.

He was Rahul Verma – my best friend from college.

Rahul had lost one of his legs in a road accident in his final year.

He was polite, hardworking, always helping me with my homework and projects, and even bringing me food when I was sick.

But me – I never considered him a true friend. I just thought of Rahul as “a pathetic person who was after me.” After graduation, Rahul returned to his hometown, working as a construction supervisor for a low salary, but living an optimistic and happy life.

And now, he is Priya’s groom – the same girl I once left behind.

Priya wore a red saree, her face beaming.

She held Rahul’s hand tightly, her eyes brimming with joy.

I had never seen her smile like she did when she was with me.

Two men sitting at the next table whispered:

“Rahul is so nice. Even though he has only one leg, he works hard, traveling more than 20 kilometers by bus to a construction site every day. He saved money for years to buy a piece of land to build a small house for this couple. He is kind and childlike, and everyone loves him.”

I was stunned.
I looked around—there was no luxury, only genuine people.
As for me, in that expensive suit, I suddenly felt small and lost.

When the ceremony began, Priya took Rahul’s hand and walked onto the stage.
In the dim yellow light of the lamps, they looked at each other lovingly.
Rahul gently took his wife’s hand—a rough, calloused hand, but full of warmth.

I suddenly felt as if my eyes were burning.
I remembered years ago – when I was embarrassed because Priya wore simple clothes, because she didn’t know how to apply makeup, and because she didn’t have a degree.
I used to forbid her from holding my hand in public…
And now, she proudly held the hand of a man with one leg, because his heart was a thousand times stronger than mine.

That night, I returned to my luxurious apartment.

I threw my expensive suit jacket on the sofa, looked around the empty room – where there was no laughter, no love.

I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face.

Not out of jealousy, but because I realized the cruelest truth:

I have money, I have status – but I have no integrity.

As for Priya, she has a man who may not be physically perfect, but his heart is perfect.

I cried all night.

For the first time in my life, I understood what true failure was –
not of money, but of one’s personality, of one’s ability to love and be loved.

Finally – a lesson from a deceased person.

From that day on, I started living more peacefully.

I stopped looking down on others, stopped judging people by their money or their car.

I acted more kindly, started helping the junior employees of the company I used to look down on.

I realized:

“A man’s worth lies not in the suit he wears or his apartment,
but in how he loves and respects the people around him.”

Because money can be earned again—
but human love, once lost,
can never be found again.

“There are some things we realize when it’s too late.

And sometimes, a disabled person isn’t someone who has lost a part of their body—
but someone who has lost the best part of their heart.”
— Arjun Mehta, Diary Entry 2024 – Mumbai

After a simple wedding in Jaipur, Priya and Rahul Verma moved to Mumbai, where Rahul got a job at a small construction company.

They rented a cramped room in Bandra East, with crumbling walls and a rusty tin roof.

But every morning, Priya would make tea, smile at her husband, and say:

“We don’t have much money right now, but I have you—that’s enough.”

Rahul smiled. He limped to the construction site with his heavy prosthetic leg, filled with both love and respect.

In the evenings, sweat dripped down his back, but he still told Priya funny stories.

They lived peacefully among poor but kind neighbors.

However, this peace didn’t last long.

That monsoon season, Mumbai was hit by the biggest storm in ten years.

The slums were flooded.

Work at the construction site where Rahul worked stopped, and he lost his job.

As for Priya, her mother’s illness in Jaipur worsened, forcing her to send most of her savings home.

In the days that followed, they had to eat rice with salt water, and many nights Rahul silently stared at his wife, feeling worthless.

One evening, in the rain, he said:

“Priya, you married me, through so much suffering… Do you ever regret it?”

Priya turned and looked at her husband—his face was sunburned, his hands rough, his eyes tired, yet warm.

He gently placed his hand on her cheek:

“You lost a leg, but your heart is intact. I chose that heart, not wealth.”

Rahul embraced his wife, and they both wept. But these were not tears of despair—tears of faith.

In the poor neighborhood, many people began whispering:

“Priya went to college, she’s very beautiful, but she married a disabled man, and he’s very poor.

I think she’ll give up…”

These words reached Rahul’s ears.

One night, he quietly took off his prosthetic leg, sat down, looking at the ground, and said softly:

“Maybe you should live a better life. You can go back to Jaipur. I won’t blame you.”

Priya came to him and took his hand:

“Do you think I love legs? No, I love a man who has the courage to stand even in pain. If people look down on you because of your disability, they’re disabled at heart.”

Rahul laughed, then cried.

From that day on, he was determined not to give up.

He did all kinds of jobs—loading goods, supervising construction work, even working overtime at night to pay the rent.

One day, while at work, Rahul saved a group of workers from a falling scaffolding.

The local press reported on the “brave disabled engineer who saved his colleague.”

The news spread quickly—and a major company offered Rahul a job as a safety engineer, with a salary three times higher than before.

When Priya heard the news, she burst into tears.

They both went to the Siddhivinayak Temple and prayed for a bright future.

Priya said through tears:

“Lord Ganesha didn’t take away from me; he taught me to appreciate what I have.”

5. A pleasant encounter from the past

One afternoon, while Rahul was attending a construction safety seminar with his colleagues, he realized that the person speaking on stage was Arjun Mehta, his old friend—and the same man who used to be Riya Malhotra’s husband.

Rumors spread throughout Mumbai that Arjun was divorced and had lost all his wealth because Malhotra’s company went bankrupt after the lawsuit.

Now he works as a consultant for private projects and lives a quiet life.

After the meeting, Arjun came in, confused, and said:

“Rahul… is it really you? I read the newspaper, I couldn’t believe it. You… did something I never even dreamed of.”

Rahul just smiled:

“I didn’t do anything big. I just tried to live a good life.”

Just then Priya arrived.

She looked at Arjun, silent for a moment.

There was no hatred in her eyes anymore, only peace.

She said softly:

“Thank you, Arjun. If I hadn’t made that choice then, I would never have known what true happiness is.”

Arjun bowed his head.

His voice trembled:

“I… I’m sorry.”

Priya smiled:

“There’s no need. Sometimes, losing something is the way for every person to find the best part of themselves.”

Rahul gently placed a hand on Arjun’s shoulder and said:

“You were a good friend. Live well, Arjun. We’ve all been through storms, but everyone deserves peace.”

At that moment, three people who were once entangled in a broken relationship –
now stood shoulder to shoulder with forgiveness, as if three souls had found their light.

Five years later, Rahul and Priya had a little daughter named Anaya.

They still lived simply in a small house in Mumbai, but full of laughter and fun.

Rahul became a safety instructor for young engineers, and Priya started a free English class for orphans.

One morning, as Rahul watched his daughter run in the garden, he took his wife’s hand and said,

“Remember, before we had nothing?”

Priya smiled, “And a heart that embraced the whole world.”

He replied softly,

“That’s enough.”

Outside, temple bells rang, accompanied by the chirping of birds.

In the middle of the bustling city, that small house was still the warmest place –

where a one-legged man,

and an abandoned woman,

had together created a true paradise with love, trust, and kindness.

“Love is not the story of two perfect people,
but the journey of two souls holding hands amidst imperfections.”

— Priya Sharma Verma, Seventh Year of Marriage Diary – Mumbai.