Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
AMAY
Let’s go home.
The words echoed in his head as he input the code and unlocked his front door. He stepped back to allow Dhrithi to precede him into the flat. He watched the top of her downbent head, dark hair escaping the tight braid she’d pulled it into, sunglasses hiding her gaze from his. Her slight, painfully thin frame was bent into itself, the t-shirt dress she was wearing hanging from her shoulders, the fit making it obvious that she’d lost a ridiculous amount of weight in an even more ridiculous short amount of time.
She was just recovering from a major accident, one caused by her own husband. His jaw clenched at the thought. What would have happened if Varun had been successful that night? What if the accident that had ended his life had also ended Dhrithi’s? Dead bodies weren’t brought into the Emergency of his hospital. Or any hospital for that matter.
Would Amay have even known? Would he have ever known that he was existing in a Dhrithi-less world? Pain slammed through him at the thought. He swallowed hard, his hand reaching for her in an unconscious bid to reassure himself that she was there. She was still here, with him.
She stood in the middle of his living room, looking lost and forlorn, her arms wrapped around her middle, almost like she was holding herself together with that fragile grip. He’d known her anxiety the previous night over the police questioning would have been insane. He’d spent all night, in his own bedroom, tossing and turning, wishing he could go to her and comfort her. But he hadn’t. She wasn’t his to comfort, a reminder he needed every few minutes it seemed like. And still, he found himself taking the day off from work so he could hound Virat with questions about how it was going and irritate Ishaan by eating his stash of healthy snacks. Corn chips tasted like chewing on a dirty dishrag. And yet, Ishaan had no more packets of it left in his kitchen cupboard.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked her, his voice rough with lack of sleep and unvoiced feelings.
Dhrithi started, almost like she’d forgotten he was standing there. “Coffee?” she asked, blinking up at him. Her hand went to the rubber band holding her hair together. She pulled it out and ran her fingers through the loosened braid, allowing the long waves to fall freely to her waist.
“Yes. You know the stuff? Made from beans and –“
“Yes, coffee,” she interrupted him. “I’ll make it.”
She walked past him, hair swinging like a banner announcing the start of war. Amay grabbed her hand, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, halting her feverish march toward the kitchen.
“Go sit down. I’ll make it.”
She opened her mouth to argue but he stopped her with a look. “Sit down, Dhriths. It’s just coffee, not a lifetime commitment.”
Whatever she’d been about to say, the words died on her lips. She shook her head in defeat and walked over to the balcony, sitting down on one of the two chairs he had there.
He watched her as her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands, fingers threading through her hair and tugging at it like she needed the pain to steady her. He forced himself not to go to her, turning instead towards the kitchen and the coffee machine he’d had installed there.
By the time he went back on to the balcony, two cups of coffee in hand, Dhrithi seemed to have herself more in control. She had one leg folded and up on the chair, her chin resting on her knee as she gazed out on Mumbai’s skyline.
“Your building is called Sea View Manor,” she said, clearly having heard him walk up since she hadn’t turned to look at him.
“It is,” he confirmed, holding one mug out to her. She turned slowly, taking the steaming hot mug from his hand, her fingers grazing his, an accidental touch but one that had them both holding their breath for a fraction of a second.
“Where’s the sea view Aatre?” she asked, a small smile teasing her full lips, the still healing scar in the bottom one pulling a little at the movement. His gut clenched at the sight.
“Well,” he forced himself to speak normally. “If you stand on your tip toes, lean at a forty five degree angle to the right and then dip only your head by twenty degrees, you can see a sliver of the ocean.”
A laugh escaped her, a full bodied, deep throated laugh that had his gut unclenching. “So, it’s actually Sea Sliver Manor.”
Amay grinned, taking a sip of his own coffee. “It is what it is, Princess. Ishaan has a brilliant view from the penthouse.”
“So what made you buy a flat with a glimpse of a sliver of the ocean?” She leaned back in her chair, her hair dancing in the humid breeze that wafted over them.
“My friends are here,” he said simply. “They are here and there is nowhere else I want to be.”
She looked over at him, pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head, her eyes bright with emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. “You’re a lucky man, Dr. Aatre.”
He thought of his friends and everything they’d gone through together. He thought of the battles they’d fought, the ones they’d lost and the ones they’d won. And he thought of the price it had all come at.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am a very lucky man.”
He’d walked through fire with his friends at his side and he’d do it again a hundred times over, no questions asked, if it meant Virat and Ishaan being a part of his life.
“Do you ever wonder…” her words trailed off as her gaze snagged with his.
He swallowed, wanting to but unable to look away. “Wonder what?” he asked huskily.
“Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if we’d ended up together?”
The breeze stilled, sound receding from the world, almost like a bubble had ensconced them. A bubble that kept everyone out, that gave them a world that was only theirs. A sliver of the ocean, just for them.
“Do you ever wonder, Amay, what life would have been like if we lived in a world in which you were mine?”
He stared at her, unable to find the words that could form a response to her question. Instead, he asked one of his own.
“Do you ever wonder?”
“Always. From the day I left to today.” She held his gaze, let him see her truth. “Every day. Every minute. Every second. I have done nothing but wonder.”