Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
DHRITHI
She shoved what little there was of her clothes into her ever-present duffel bag, cursing under her breath. This was what happened when you believed in fairy tales. You started to think Prince Charming was coming to rescue you. There weren’t any real life Prince Charmings. Not even grumpy, Shrek like trauma surgeons qualified. She took a deep breath and zipped her bag closed.
Dhrithi glanced around the room, checking to see if she’d forgotten anything. Her gaze swept the austere cream walls and minimalist furniture. She’d miss this ugly place. It wasn’t much in the sense of home décor but she’d found peace here. Peace, happiness and even, excitement. The memory of Amay’s lips on hers, coaxing, seeking, plundering, slammed through her. A shuddering sob escaped her as she collapsed on to the bed, her face falling into her hands.
What was wrong with her? She hadn’t shed tears over her husband’s death and she was sitting here crying over a man who’d kissed her once. Just once. And yet, in that single kiss had been more care and tenderness than Dhrithi had experienced in the entirety of her marriage.
She’d been stupid to build up her hopes on the foundation of a single kiss and a murmured ‘Let’s talk.’ She had no one but herself to blame for the disappointment lancing through her, shredding her heart and bringing with it a keening sense of loss.
But this was Amay. Her Amay. The boy who’d stayed up nights researching a woman’s menstrual cycle when she’d got her period for the first time. He’d found her sobbing in the school gardens convinced she was about to die from some mysterious illness because no one had bothered to talk to her about it or explain the changes happening in her body. And she’d been one of those early bloomers, getting her period when she’d just turned eleven. It had been Amay who’d read up everything he could find on the topic and then sat with her to explain it all, a bright red blush crawling up his cheeks as he did so.
A child, she’d been just a child. They’d been children, lonely and lost, at a boarding school that had more predators than prey.
Dhrithi took a deep breath, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks as she got to her feet and hauled her duffle bag on to her shoulder. It didn’t matter what Amay and she had shared in the past. The present was what mattered and Amay’s present had no place for her, a battered widow with enough baggage to fill a whole godown. Her own family didn’t want her, why would a boy who’d once had a childhood crush on her? He’d already gone above and beyond in helping her till this moment. She couldn’t freeload on him anymore.
Resolve strengthening, she shoved her phone into the handy pocket stitched into her kurta and stepped out of the room she’d grown so attached to. She was halfway to the front door when the doorbell rang.
Dhrithi froze. Who could that be? Ishaan and Virat knew the code to the apartment and Amay was still in the hospital. There was no one else who’d crossed that threshold in the days Dhrithi had lived here. Amay had a once-a-week cleaning service that came in and deep cleaned the apartment and the daily chores, he did himself. Or they had done together while she’d been here.
The bell rang again, a strident tone that cut through the silent apartment. Curiosity propelled Dhrithi forward and she stood on her tiptoes to look through her peephole. Her heart slammed to a halt at the sight that met her eyes. The face looking back at her, enlarged and a little distorted, was not one she’d hoped to set eyes on ever again. As she watched, he raised his fist and slammed it into the door.
“Bhabhiji, I know you’re in there,” he crooned, his sly, slick voice making her feel dirty.
Dhrithi took a step back from the door, her heart thudding now, a rapid pace that was making her feel lightheaded. She shouldn’t open the door. It would be the smart thing to do but Ashish Sharma, one of Varun’s best friends and a Dusty Devil, wouldn’t go away so easily.
“I know you’re in there. I checked with the security guard and I know you’re listening to me now.” He laughed, a sick, joyous sound. “I can hear your fear. Hear it, smell it, taste it. Come on Dhrithi Bhabhi, open the door. We should talk before someone else comes by and hears what I have to say.”
Against her better judgement, Dhrithi yanked the door open. Better to get this over with before he started screaming in the corridors and making a scene. Amay still had to live here long after Dhrithi left. She couldn’t let this get unpleasant for him.
But it was when she opened the door that Dhrithi realised what a big mistake she’d made. It wasn’t only Ashish standing there. She looked at them, her husband’s best friends.
Ashish, Parash, Naveen, and Majid.
Rich, entitled, and from the looks of it, bombed out of their minds. She knew that look, she was intimately acquainted with it. She’d been married to that jittery, excited, fever bright gleam in the eyes.
“Aren’t you going to invite us in, Bhabhiji?” Ashish smacked his lips on the last word, making the respectful address sound obscene.
Dhrithi crossed her arms over her chest as Parash stared at her breasts like he’d never seen a woman before in his life. A different fear slid through her, a sick realization that she might have just made the biggest mistake of her life. There was a strong possibility she wouldn’t live to regret it.
“You need to leave,” she said, marveling at the fact that her voice stayed steady and calm unlike her insides which were quivering with fear.
“Arrey but we just came.” Majid stepped past her, his eyes taking in the sparsely furnished flat, noting every little thing about it. “You know how difficult it was to find you? We had to search so much! And you’re not even offering us a cup of tea before you ask us to leave.”
“What do you want?” Dhrithi was tired of playing this game, this double meaning pseudo sweet conversation that would probably end in her bloody or dead. Or more likely bloody and dead.
“Whose place is this?” Ashish asked, his eyes on her, the look in them flat, dark and deeply chilling.
“None of your business,” Dhrithi retorted.
“Arrey wah, Bhabhiji has found her tongue after her patidev died. Or was it after she murdered him?” Naveen, who’d been silent until then, smiled. “Maybe we should cut it out as an offering to his tortured soul.”
Terror sliced through her as she met his sociopathic gaze, trying not to let any of her thoughts or feelings show.
“What. Do. You. Want?” She gritted the words out.
“You told the cops about Andheri and Borivali. I saw it on the videos of the whole scene uploaded online.” Ashish stepped closer to her, clearly the ringleader. He trailed one finger down her jawline, watching as she firmed her jaw and stared back at him defiantly. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why would you do that? What do you know?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice husky with the effort of suppressing her fear. “I just know Varun had some property there.”
“Varun had some property there.” Majid giggled, clearly too stoned to stay in menacing character mode. “Like it was only his.”
“Shut up,” Ashish snapped, still watching Dhrithi. “If you didn’t know anything, why tell the cops? What’s your game, Bhabhiji?”
“I don’t have a game.” Dhrithi swallowed hard. “I was just cooperating with the police so they’d finish their investigation, and I can get on with my life.”
“How did you know those flats existed?”
“Varun told me,” Dhrithi lied rashly.
Ashish didn’t call her bluff, but she could see it in his eyes, his rejection of her lie. He stepped closer, hard, calloused fingers gripping her chin and tilting her face up to his.
“Whose flat is this?” he asked, his voice a coarse whisper. “Answer me. I won’t ask again.”
“It’s mine.”
The hard words electrified her, making even Ashish jerk away from her, his hand falling away from her face. She looked towards the door and saw Amay standing there, a cold, hard look on his face. Behind him, Virat, his usual impenetrable mask in place, and Ishaan, a sociopathic little smile on his face, stood.
“Dhrithi.” Amay’s quiet look had her rushing to his side. He grabbed her and pushed her behind him, Virat and Ishaan flanking her.
“Your house?” Ashish’s eyes narrowed as he took in the new entrants. “Do I know you guys?”
“Oh no.” Amay stepped forward, his teeth bared in a feral smile, one that Dhrithi had never seen before. “You know nothing about us, Ash.”
The nickname from school had realization creeping into Ashish’s gaze. His skittery gaze darted from one face to the other before coming to rest on Virat’s. And recognition slammed through him.
“Virat Jha,” he said softly. “Well, well, well, it’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough,” Virat responded. “I would have been happy to have never seen your face again.”
Ashish smiled. “Ahh but I see your face all the time. Every time I see her in my memory, I see you. And I see her all the time especially when…” He made an obscene jerking motion with his hand. “Do you remember how you cried that night? Like a puppy that had been kicked in the ribs. So loud, so squeaky, so-“
Whatever he’d been about to say was lost in the sickening crunch of flesh on flesh as Amay punched him right in the mouth. Ashish dropped like a stone to the floor while Amay coolly shook out his fist and stepped over his inert body to look at the others.
“All right, shitheads,” he told the others who were gaping at them. “Who wants to go next?”