Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
DHRITHI
Dread swirled in Dhrithi’s stomach as she stared up at the mansion that had been her home for years. Every tile, every brick, every fabric in this home had been witness to her screams, to her pleas, to her endless silent tears. The thought of entering this space again almost brought her to her knees. Almost.
Her fingers clenched at her side as beads of sweat built along her hairline trickling down the side of her face. She dabbed at it with the edge of the blindingly white dupatta she had draped over her head, the very picture of the perfect bahu.
She should go in. But her feet wouldn’t move. They seemed to be rooted to the spot, cementing themselves into the paved driveway she stood on. She was already ten minutes late. The Gokhales demanded punctuality. In the past, she’d paid heavily for every minute she was late. She was sure she would today as well. The only difference was today, she hoped to return it with interest.
Could she? She tilted her head back looking up to the terrace framed by the ornate, white balustrade. He’d held her by the back of her neck, threatening to throw her off from there one night. Her fingers trembled at the memory as she clenched them in the folds of the white Anarkali kurta she’d bought for today. She was dressed for the part she meant to play but could she pull it off?
Her phone rang and she dug it out from the handbag hanging from her shoulder.
“Hello.”
“You’ve got this.” Amay’s calm baritone rumbled through the phone calming her, settling her racing heart and quelling the nausea that threatened to spew over.
She placed a palm over her chest, allowing her steadier heartbeat to settle her head too. “I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered.
“You are.”
“Then why am I so scared?”
He fell silent for a moment. “Anything worth having, worth doing, comes at a cost,” he said finally. “Sometimes that cost is fear.”
She swallowed hard, old memories rising up to grip her by the throat. “Sometimes the cost is too high.”
“You’ve already paid it, sweetheart.” His voice dropped an octave, feeling almost like a caress through the phone. “You’ve paid more than your dues to the Gokhales, to your family, and to life in general. The only person you owe anything to is yourself. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, Dhriths. Come back. Come home.”
Home.
For the first time in a long time, the word resonated with her. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t take a step forward without burying the past first. She steeled herself, her grip on the phone tightening.
“I will,” she replied. “Once I’m done with this.”
“Dhriths?” Amay’s voice anchored her, making her fears recede like snow fleeing the sun.
“Yes?”
“You’re not alone. You have us.”
Us, he said. Us, not me.
She fought the disappointment that swirled through her but forced herself to say, “I’m grateful for that. Especially after-”
“Dhrithi.”
Varun’s mother stood on the front porch, glaring at her. She gestured her forward with an angry hand.
Dhrithi smiled, her beaming smile clearly startling the other woman. “I’ve got to go,” she told Amay. “But after this is done, we’ll talk?”
“We’ll talk.”
The two words warmed her as she slipped the phone back into her handbag and walked past the older woman into her own personal house of horrors.
“Stop smiling,” Varun’s mother hissed at her.
“Yes, Ma.” She kept her head dutifully bowed as she stepped in, wiping the smirk off her lips. She took her place in front of the havan, a row behind his parents. Varun’s father was already seated and didn’t even bother to acknowledge her presence. She looked around at the crowd that had gathered, spotting her parents in one corner. Her father smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Dhrithi ignored him, her gaze scanning the rest of the crowd and spotting the press who were carefully sprinkled through it.
The fire from the havan blazed as the pujari’s chants got louder. Finally, and only because she couldn’t avoid it any longer, Dhrithi allowed herself to look at the picture in front of the fire.
Varun was laughing, a carefree, happy grin, his eyes twinkling. He wore a custom fitted suit, one hand on his heart, like he was struggling to contain his happiness. A picture, they said, spoke a thousand words. But this one lied. It was the lie that had broken Dhrithi’s life. But no more.
In the distance, she heard the sirens. She watched her ex-father-in-law and saw his back stiffen. But outside of that no one reacted. Even as the sirens drew closer, no one in the room even twitched. Car doors slammed outside and inaudible shouts were exchanged before the front door opened.
She kept her head bowed, the dupatta shrouding her face as she waited for Varun’s father to stand and walk over to confront them.
“What is this about Inspector?” he asked, the consummate liar that he was ensuring that no emotion leaked into his voice.
“We have a warrant to search the premises.” Inspector Vikram matched him, stone face to stone face.
“Now? We are in the middle of a prayer for my beloved son’s soul. We have already lost everything and now, you want to take this from us too?”
Dhrithi almost rolled her eyes before she remembered she had to stay in character.
“Get up,” Varun’s mother hissed, dragging her to her feet with one arm. Dhrithi stumbled along behind her as they went to stand behind Varun’s father.
“My daughter-in-law still grieves for her husband and you wish to tear apart her home, the only home she’s ever shared with him?”
“Yes, that’s right. That’s what I wish to do.” Inspector Vikram’s sardonic voice cut through his rhetoric. “This is a legal document, Sir. Please step out of the way.”
“Dhrithi.” Varun’s father’s fingers dug into her arm as he hauled her forward. “This is your house they are planning to defile. Your life they are going to rip apart. You’ve barely recovered from your unbearable loss, from your injuries, from everything that life has put you through and now this. Tell them. Tell them to leave.”
All around them whispers rose, a few discreet flashes telling her the whole scene was being recorded and not just by the press present. She knew what she had to do to get the sympathy vote the Gokhales were banking on.
She allowed her dupatta to slip off her head, straightening her bowed shoulders and meeting Inspector Vikram’s impenetrable gaze.
“Where would you like to start?” Her clear voice carried through the room, fanning the whispers in both volume and urgency.
“What?” Varun’s father looked at her for the first time since she’d entered, rage burning through his gaze.
“It is my house, like you said, Papa.” She smiled sweetly, dipping her hand into her purse for the massive bunch of keys she’d had for years. She held it out to Inspector Vikram. “This should open almost anything in the house. And this,” she dug out a piece of paper next. “is the list of codes for everything the keys don’t open.”
The officer nodded, a small smile playing on his lips now. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Anytime,” she said breezily, smiling wide, the fake grief a mantle she was happy to shrug off.
The cops filed past them, scattering the crowd as they went.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The furious whisper had her glancing at her in-laws. She smiled wider. “Didn’t you hear him? I’m being cooperative.”
“They won’t find anything,” Varun’s mother spat at her. “We already had everything important removed.”
“Of course you did.” She faced them, yanking her dupatta off and tossing it. “But now you also don’t have the media spin you were hoping for today.”
They looked around, clocking the sly grins and open chatter from the people around them. Dhrithi’s aghast parents fought their way to the front to confront her.
“Don’t bother,” she told her father before he could spew more vitriol at her. “Inspector Vikram!” she called out loudly.
Across the room, the other man turned at her voice. Eyebrows raised, he sauntered over to see what mayhem she planned to cause next.
“Once you’re done with this place, let me know if you’d like to check out Varun’s other properties.”
“We’ll be checking out the farm in Karjat and a team has already been dispatched to the Delhi home, Ma’am. We have international teams enroute to the homes in London and New York as well.” He smiled this time, seemingly enjoying her little performance. “But once again, thank you for your very enthusiastic cooperation.”
He was turning away from her when she asked, “And what about the flats in Andheri and Borivali?”
She heard her father-in-law’s sharp intake of breath, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. Which was saying something since it was frosty from the beginning.
Vikram froze, turning back to her. “I beg your pardon,” he said, eyes narrowing.
Dhrithi widened her eyes artlessly. “You weren’t aware of those? Neither was I. Varun mentioned them in passing but I’m afraid I don’t have the keys or codes for those. Papa?” She turned towards her father-in-law. “Varun must have shared them with you. Could you give it to the Inspector? After all, we have nothing to hide, do we?”
They often said that when a bomb dropped, there was a moment of silence, a vacuum in which all sound ceased to exist in the world. It was in that vacuum that Dhrithi chose to finally step away and walk out of that house, her heels grinding the debris of her past into dust as she did so.