Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
AMAY
Amay stood on his balcony, hands gripping the railing as he stared out at the complicated hodgepodge of Mumbai’s skyline. He saw none of it, all he saw was Dhrithi walking out of his home and his life. She hadn’t looked back. It had cleaved his heart in two and still, he’d been so incredibly proud of her. She wasn’t taking anyone’s shit anymore, not even his.
“Are you planning to jump?”
He didn’t turn at the sound of Ishaan’s voice. Maybe if he ignored his annoying friend long enough, he would disappear back into the cave he usually hibernated in.
But Ishaan didn’t disappear. He stepped up to stand beside Amay, looking out onto the same dirty, grimy slice of Mumbai life.
“I’m asking because I’m not sure you’ve written out your will as yet.” He peered over the side of the railing. “And you, my friend, are the sole heir to the Aatre empire. There’s a lot at stake if you decide to spatter yourself on the pavement.”
“Are you angling to find out if you’re in my will, dickhead?”
“I don’t angle,” Ishaan retorted with impressive dignity. “I know my worth.”
“And what is your worth?” Amay couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.
“All of your immense fortune, Aatre, and not a rupee less.”
They heard the door open behind them and turned to see Virat stalk in. He’d been out the whole day talking to people about Varun Gokhale’s case.
“They found nothing,” he said tersely. “Anywhere.”
Ishaan whistled disbelievingly, the sound low and musical. “Either those dumbfucks are innocent which I highly doubt, or they got smarter, which I doubt even more. Smarter would require them to be smart in the first place.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Amay murmured. “This way they’ll close the case and Dhrithi can get on with her life.”
“Her life without you,” Ishaan added helpfully. Amay glared at him.
Virat stepped out onto the balcony, resting one shoulder against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “It doesn’t sit right,” he said, ignoring their little by play.
“Your team hasn’t found anything either.” Amay pointed out.
Virat’s withering glare would have incinerated lesser mortals. But Amay had survived that glare more times than he could count.
“We’re still looking,” Virat gritted out finally.
“Maybe you should stop. Maybe it’s time for us to let this go.”
“Why Ams? Because you found the resolution you want in the way Dhrithi looks at you?”
Ishaan glanced warily from Amay to Virat. “Guys,” he said, as he stepped uneasily into the new and strange-to-him role of peacemaker. Troublemaker was a custom made coat he wore, one that normally fit him to perfection. This one on the other hand didn’t fit at all. “Let’s not devolve.”
“Shut up Ish.” It was said at the same time, identical, pissed off tones hissing out of two separate mouths.
“Well, alright then,” he muttered, getting equally pissed off. “Be dicks to each other. What do I care?”
“God forbid you actually care enough about something to take it seriously,” Virat rounded on him.
“And you,” he turned next to Amay. “Try and care a little less, would you?”
And on that furious note, Virat, their calm and steady friend, turned on his heel and stormed out leaving the other two gaping at him. A second later, the front door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through Amay’s hall.
“Um, what just happened?” Ishaan asked, exchanging a comically startled look with Amay who shrugged, his worried gaze on the door.
“We should probably go check on him,” he said starting for the front door, Ishaan trailing behind him.
“Or we could let him cool off?” Ishaan asked, with a hopeful tinge to his voice. “You know what Virat’s temper is like. He’s like one of those dormant volcanoes who when they begin to spew, they take entire countries down with them.”
Amay punched the button for the elevator. “Doesn’t matter. If he takes us down, then we go down with him. It isn’t even a choice.”
“Alright Mr. Sanctimonious.” Ishaan stepped into the elevator the minute the doors opened. “I was just suggesting we give him some space.”
The doors opened on the tenth floor and Amay strode out, ignoring his muttering friend who trudged along beside him, reluctantly. He punched in the code to Virat’s front door and entered without waiting for an invitation. They found Virat sitting in the middle of his drawing room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared into the golden brown liquid, ignoring their rather dramatic entry into his home.
“Day drinking, are we?” Ishaan asked, forcing cheer into his voice. “Why wasn’t I invited?”
Virat didn’t look up or bother to answer.
“Hey.” Amay sat down on the center table in front of Virat. He nudged Virat’s foot with the tip of his shoe to get his attention. “Talk to us.”
“They win,” Virat said. “Again. And it makes me want to fucking burn down their world.”
“Let’s do it then,” Ishaan cheered, forever ready to rabble rouse.
“Without finding just cause?” Amay asked, sending Ishaan a quelling look.
“Just cause?” Virat looked at him incredulously. “Have you forgotten what they did all those years ago? To us?”
“And to her,” Amay added quietly. Because that was really the crux of Virat’s problem, the crux of his very existence even.
“And they got away with it.” Ishaan lost his irreverence, the pain of the past, of his best friend’s suffering seeping into his voice.
“We couldn’t do anything about it then,” Virat said, his voice raw and unfiltered. “All these years, everything I’ve done, all the power and money I’ve accumulated... It’s been for this moment, for a chance to take them down. And we’ve found nothing. Online or offline. Nothing to even tell us what they’re involved in. And they are,” he said fiercely. “Whether we found evidence of it or not, they are fucking involved in something. The way they’re scrambling like rats to confuse and confound the police is evidence enough of that.”
“Then we’ll keep looking,” Amay told him. “We won’t stop until we find out what it is.”
“And then my friend,” Ishaan added with a fierce grin. “We’ll burn their fucking worlds down and dance in the ashes.”
Virat stared at the two of them, a small smile finally breaking through, his customary calm returning. “So dramatic, the two of you.”
“Puhlease,” Ishaan scoffed. “Dramatic my ass. I haven’t even asked you to mix your blood with Amay’s and mine as yet. What’s the point of a vow of vengeance if blood is not involved in the vowing and swearing?”
“Shut up, Ish.” The other two chorused, grinning at each other.
“I’ll get the knife,” Ishaan shouted, walking off towards the kitchen.
Amay shook his head, resigned to Ishaan’s shenanigans.
“She’s all alone in that house, Ams,” Virat said now, his even tone somehow carrying the weight of his judgement.
“I know.”
“She’s packing up her stuff and selling whatever else she can before she moves out. It’s a purging of her past, I think.”
Amay stayed silent, his gaze on his hands. “She needs this,” he said, his voice hoarse with his longing for her, one that never truly left him.
“She needs you.”
“Not right now.” He met Virat’s gaze. “She needs a little time and space to bury the past before we can think of the future.”
“And have you told her that you want a future with her?”
Amay’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Virat watched him carefully.
“If you do, it’s time to say something now because, from what I can see, I think she’s planning for a future alone.”
The words struck at the center of his heart, sending fear and insecurity lancing through him.
“I don’t want to put pressure on her when she’s already vulnerable.”
“Do her a huge favour and don’t presume to tell her how she feels. Ask her what she feels and wants, and then see if you can meet it, dumbass.”
“I got the knife!” Ishaan appeared suddenly, brandishing a rather large, ominous looking knife and startling the living daylights out of Amay. With an ivory inlay handle and a serrated edge to the large blade, it looked like an elegant assassin’s favourite weapon. Was Virat branching out in his line of work?
“What the fuck do you use that thing for? I’ve never seen something like that in anybody’s kitchen before.” Amay swatted Ishaan’s hand. “Stop waving that thing around.”
“Put that away before you hurt yourself idiot.” Virat reached for the knife, but Ishaan sidestepped him.
“It’s time for the blood rites,” Ishaan intoned. “We need the head of a chicken, the blood from the maidenhead of a virgin, and some chewing gum.”
Amay rolled his eyes. “None of us chew gum. What do you need gum for anyway?”
“Interesting that that’s the bit you want more information on,” Ishaan mused.
“And I don’t know any virgins,” Virat added, laughter in his voice. “None that would offer their hymen up for your blood rite, at least.”
“Please.” Amay grinned. “You just have to breathe in the same room as women and they’d offer everything up for you.”
“I breathed in the same room as Dhrithi. It had zero effect on her.” Virat leaned back in his seat, the pained anger that lined him seeming to leave his body.
“That’s because she was into me,” Ishaan retorted.
“Nobody with even half a functioning brain cell is into you,” Amay groaned, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “And Dhrithi has way more than that. She’s the only one who beat you at school in academics.”
“I beat her with half a mark,” Ishaan protested, outraged.
“I’m pretty sure you cheated on that exam,” Amay said.
“I always thought so too,” Virat seconded.
Ishaan glared at them. “Don’t piss off the man with the knife.”
Amay’s mind wandered to Virat’s earlier words. Dhrithi was packing up her life and getting ready to move on. From Varun or from Amay too? He’d screwed up. He needed to fix it but how? What was Dhrithi doing right now? Was she still awake or had she gone to bed early?
“Oh dear lord,” Ishaan said disgustedly. “Please go pine somewhere else. For our luck, that fucking emotion would be infectious also.”
“Don’t pine,” Virat added. “Go, get her back.”
“Yeah please. You’re more fun when Goody is around.”
Amay pushed to his feet, his resolve cementing itself. “I’ll see you guys later,” he told them. “Or maybe not,” he added with a cheeky smile.
“When you meet Goody tell her I didn’t cheat. I beat her fair and square. That trophy is mine and will stay mine forever.”
“Shut up Ish!” The groaned chorus only made Ishaan twirl his knife more like a maniacal idiot.
Amay was still laughing as he walked out of Virat’s flat. His smile faded as he considered what he planned to do. What happened if Dhrithi didn’t want him back? What would he do if she told him to take his conflicting emotions and go to hell?
He’d go, he thought. Because there was never a day when he didn’t do what Dhrithi asked him to do. Somedays she didn’t even need to ask…he did her bidding anyway.
But tonight, if she wanted Amay Aatre out of her life for good, she was going to have to say so.