Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
DHRITHI
Dhrithi sat on the balcony of Amay’s home, a steaming mug of tea in her hands, and stared out into the distance. The skyline of the city of Mumbai spread out in front of her, a vista that always brought a lump to her throat. She loved this city but it hadn’t loved her back. Life in Mumbai had been anything but easy.
She picked up her phone and dialled her father. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been for him to just ignore her call. She typed out a message.
Can you call me?
Would he, wouldn’t he? She really didn’t know. Surprisingly, she found herself not caring very much. A strange sort of numbness descended over her as she sat there, her gaze on the distant horizon and the speck of the ocean that she could see.
“Are you worried?” Amay came to stand near the door leading to the balcony, a mug in his hands. He leaned against the doorjamb, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon like she’d been. Neither of them was ready to look at the other. Not after their conversation earlier in the day.
“Should I be?” she asked, leaning back in the beanbag she was parked in. “I don’t think so. I haven’t done anything other than be his wife. And Varun didn’t care enough about me to involve me in anything.”
“Association,” he murmured.
“Well,” she sighed. “If I’m going to jail for choosing to marry that fuckhead, then so be it.”
Amay’s jaw clenched, the only visible change in his expression. “That won’t happen,” he murmured.
“Why not?” She looked at him now.
“I won’t let it.” He turned his head and looked at her, those beautiful, dark eyes boring into hers. “Virat’s set up a meeting with the police who are in charge of the case. The commissioner will sit in as well. He’ll get them to speak to you. You’re going to go in there and tell them everything you know.”
“Which is nothing,” she pointed out.
Amay shrugged. “Then they’ll know that. It will only work in your favour.”
He straightened, stepping away from the door and from her. He turned away before turning back to face her.
“Dhrithi?”
She looked over at him.
“No more fucking games. Tell them everything.”
“Them or you?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Everyone. No more games,” he added quietly.
He was already walking away when she said, “It was never a game. You were never a game.”
He didn’t turn back this time, the muscles in his back tensing. “We were children. Everything was a game.”
“Really?” Dhrithi challenged. “Your feelings for me were nothing but a childish game?”
She would never know what his answer to that question would be because her phone rang, a blaringly discordant note in the quiet of their conversation. Her father was calling her back.
“Dad?” She picked up before he could disconnect. “We need to talk.”
“Have you come to your senses?” he asked without preamble.
“If you’re asking if I am going to claim a share in Varun’s assets, the answer is still no.”
“How selfish can you be, Dhrithi?” he fired back rendering her speechless for a moment.
“Selfish?” she asked him. “ I’m being selfish?”
“Yes! Have you thought about your aged parents?”
A bubble of laughter escaped her, startling them both. “Aged parents? Dad, mom would shoot you for describing her as an aged parent.”
“It’s not a joke, Dhrithi,” he responded stiffly. “We have needs.”
“Needs?” Mystified, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to think. “Dad, is the business in trouble? Is there something I am not in the loop about?”
“Our business is none of your business. Once you got married, the only business you should concern yourself with is your husband’s business and you don’t seem to care about that at all.”
“Dad-“
“You should be marching into his office and demanding they give you his position on the board.”
She would give her father-in-law a heart attack, ensuring the Gokhales were down by two family members in as many weeks.
“Dad,” she sighed but her father was still talking.
“If only you’d produced a child by now, your-“
“I can’t,” she interrupted.
He fell silent for a beat before asking, “What do you mean?”
“I can’t have children. I never told mom and you because-“
“Who knows this?” He didn’t let her finish her explanation, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“No one except for Varun and his parents,” she said bewildered. “I’m guessing he told his parents. I’m not sure.”
“Keep your mouth shut then,” he ordered. “Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t tell anyone anything. Do you understand Dhrithi?”
The line went dead on her before she could respond.
No more fucking games. Tell them everything.
Amay’s quiet words resounded in her head in direct contrast to her dad’s barked order. Dhrithi took a deep breath, her gaze going back to the skyline. Maybe it was time to stop listening to everyone and just listen to herself.
But then, look at her track record. She snorted. The last person she should be listening to was herself. She looked at her duffel bag which sat beside her feet.
Staying or going? Talking or not talking? What was it going to be?