Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
AMAY
His blood was a tempest of fury and pain as he listened to Dhrithi detail her life out in response to Virat’s calm questioning.
“Was Varun abusive?”
Amay’s hand clenched on his armrest, his gaze on Dhrithi’s delicate profile. He saw her jaw firm and her neck move with a visible swallow as she stared at Virat.
“How does that have anything to do with the warrant to search Varun’s properties?” she asked him, her voice hoarse with suppressed emotion.
“Everything matters when it comes to information.”
Dhrithi’s gaze slid to Amay, a wild, trapped look in it that had him wanting to punch his best friend.
“If she doesn’t want to talk about it-“
“We all know he did,” Ishaan cut in. “Let’s just keep this wheel turning, okay?”
“This is not a wheel. This is my life.” Dhrithi got to her feet, eyes flashing. She swayed a little before supporting herself on the armrest of the sofa she’d been sitting on. “Is everything a joke to you? Am I?”
Ishaan had the grace to look ashamed, a hand going to ruffle the wild curls on his head.
“Yes.” She turned on Virat. “He abused me. Physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually…every possible way there was to abuse someone, he did it to me. What else do you need to know?”
Virat nodded, his expression showing nothing of his thoughts. “The drugs…what are we talking? Heroin, cocaine, or –“
“Mostly cocaine,” Dhrithi said, sounding defeated and slowly sitting down again. “But he’d try anything. He had a watch he wore on his hand that monitored his vitals and told him when he was going too far.”
Amay’s eyebrows shot up. Interesting.
“He didn’t have any drugs stashed at home?”
“Not enough to worry anyone. It wasn’t like he was dealing.”
A subtle change in the atmosphere had her eyes sharpening. “Was he?”
Virat exhaled. “I think so. He was definitely dabbling in it, a profitable side hustle. But it wasn’t his main vice.”
“And what was his main vice?” Amay asked, sick of this whole conversation. The deeply insidious nature of it was injecting bitter poison into his veins.
“I don’t know yet,” Virat said, frowning. “But there is something and it’s not as obvious or stupid like drugs and women.”
“Of course. How tacky would that be?” Sarcasm dripped from Amay’s every word. “Abuse is also so middle class, isn’t it?”
“That’s not what I meant, Ams.” Virat shot him a look. “But there is something the Gokhales are hiding. They’re bringing in the big guns to block the warrant. Why? Varun is already dead. It’s not like he can be prosecuted for his crimes. So, what are they so desperate to hide and why are they so frantic to dissociate themselves from Dhrithi?”
“I can answer the last part.” Dhrithi tugged at the sleeve of the oversize t-shirt she wore. It kept slipping off her shoulder and she kept pulling it back into place. It was probably Virat’s, Amay thought, struggling with the irrational surge of jealousy sweeping through him. He wanted her to be wearing his t-shirt, to be wrapped in material that had been worn by him before it slid over her naked skin. Ishaan was right. He was an idiot.
“And the answer is?” Ishaan asked, making a rolling motion with one hand. Amay smacked it.
“They don’t like me.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to cut you out the way they have. My sources say they don’t intend to let you have a rupee of Varun’s inheritance.”
Dhrithi nodded serenely. “That computes.”
“That computes?” Amay stared at her. “How does that compute?”
“I’m barren. I can’t have a child. No heir, no possibility of heir. Nothing. The only value I brought to this marriage was my womb and even that was faulty. So, yeah, they don’t like me.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Amay asked, furious on her behalf.
“Yeah, I am. You know why?”
“Why?”
“I don’t like them either.” Dhrithi grinned, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her since she’d been wheeled back into his life on a stretcher.
Ishaan laughed, a loud bark of sound. “ I’m starting to like you Goody.”
“Oh wonderful,” she drawled. “I have been living for this moment and this moment only. What would I ever do without your validation?”
Ishaan only laughed harder and even Virat fought a grin. Only Amay sat there seething and furious.
“Although…” Dhrithi frowned, something clearly having occurred to her. “Have you spoken to Sparsha?”
“Sparsha Bhavnani?” Virat asked, his tone sharp. “She’s on my list.”
“Who is she?” Amay leaned forward, watching the lines of pain in Dhrithi’s face.
“Varun’s best friend,” Virat answered at the same time as Dhrithi said, “Varun’s fuck buddy and wingman or is it wingwoman?”
“What should I be speaking to her about?” Virat asked, his watchful gaze on Dhrithi.
“I had this nightmare, a flash of memory I suppose.” Dhrithi massaged the back of her neck with one hand, another bracing her lower back. The medication was wearing off and her aches and pains were flaring. She needed to rest. Concern had Amay leaning forward to tell her the same but Dhrithi was still speaking.
“We were at a party and Sparsha was talking about how it was Varun’s special night. Something about him being king of the world, a very special world.”
“A very special world,” Virat murmured. Amay could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Interesting.”
“Dhrithi needs to sleep,” he said abruptly when he saw her put a hand to her side and wince. “Let’s not forget she’s recovering from major surgery.”
Ishaan hopped off the tabletop he’d been sitting on like a teenager who’d just come home from school as Virat got to his feet, still seemingly lost in thought.
“Goodnight,” Dhrithi said wanly, struggling to get to her feet. Amay held a hand out to her and she placed hers in it, the gentle touch of her soft skin against his open palm sending a thrum of need through him.
“Goodnight,” the other two idiots chorused, heading out of the room.
He stayed right where he was, his hand glued to hers, his eyes caught in the snare of her large, pain filled ones.
“I’ll reheat the khichdi and bring it to the bedroom,” he said gruffly. “You get into bed.”
“Amay, that’s not necessary.”
“I don’t think you should argue with your doctor,” he told her, turning her in the direction of the room and pointing. “Go.”
He watched her make her slow, laborious way to the bedroom before he turned towards the kitchen and got the simple meal ready. He picked up the plate, a fork and a bottle of water and followed her, stopping at the closed door to the bedroom.
He didn’t want to enter that bedroom. The bedroom she slept in. He’d been in and out of her hospital room as her doctor and sure he’d dipped his toe over those doctor-patient lines but this…this was different.
“I can hear you overthinking out there.” Her voice filtered through the door, jolting him out of his tangled, muddled stairway to hell thoughts.
He opened the door and stepped in. She lay on her side, one arm curled under her pillow, a soft smile on her tired face. And his stupid, traitorous heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t fall for her again.
He cleared his throat and walked to her bedside table. “I’m going to leave this here,” he told her. “You should take your medicines and get some sleep.”
He was almost to the door when she said, “Amay?”
He paused, one hand on the doorjamb, his head turned to the side to hear what she wanted. Always waiting to hear what she wanted. Always thinking of how to give it to her. He hated himself.
“When will I see you again?”
The soft question was a dagger through his stupid heart. “At your review day after tomorrow.”
“At the hospital?”
He nodded, not turning back. He heard her exhale and then say, “Okay.”
He took another step forward to the sound of blankets rustling. She wasn’t eating. She was settling in to sleep, without her food and medicines.
“You need to eat,” he told her, dropping his head to the door, his forehead connecting with a thunk.
“I will.”
“When?” His eyes squeezed shut, his head still bonding with the wood of the door.
“In a bit.” More rustling.
He clenched his fist, doing his best not to punch the door with it. “Dhrithi-“
“I have nightmares.” Her quiet voice stopped his heart. “Are they even nightmares when they’re just snippets of a life you’ve already lived? I don’t know. But they play in my head, a constant reel that’s just there, awake or asleep. The silence in my life, it echoes.”
He turned around, his doomed fate tugging him forward. Toward her, always toward her.
“Would you stay for a bit?” she asked, her voice a thready whisper. “Please?”
He sat down on the side of her bed, his gaze on his hands. Fucked. He was fucked. He reached for the plate, pulling it towards him. He forked up some unappetising looking khichidi and held it out to her.
“Eat,” he said.
She opened her mouth, allowing the tines of the fork to slip between her lips. She swallowed before she said, “Thank you.”
Amay nodded.
“Amay, I’m sorry. For everything.”
He froze for a second before forking up another mouthful for her. She opened her mouth, taking her cue from his and not going down a path he had no wish to tread.
Fucked. Absolutely fucked.