Suparna Verma 1 Maya Iyer adjusted the collar of her navy-blue jumpsuit and glanced once more at the ornate wall clock above her desk. 11:27 a.m. The Deshmukh settlement was scheduled for noon, but she knew they’d be late. High-profile clients always were—especially when their breakup had been trending on social media for a week. She sipped her filter coffee from the oversized wine glass she insisted on using—her tiny rebellion against conventional labels. Her office, nestled in a sleek corner of Banjara Hills, didn’t scream “divorce.” It whispered it—soft couches, muted pastels, and an aroma diffuser that smelled like…