Gut Instinct #2
She didn’t give Rekha the plans. She hadn’t lied about what she told Rekha. Maybe she kept my trust the only way she could. But she had lied about the spying. She had chosen Rekha over me in those stolen moments. That was real. And the betrayal hurt.
‘She was threatening me, Jai. She said she would blacklist me from the industry if I didn’t obey. And when she found out about us, she used that to blackmail me.’
What if she really was forced into it?
‘I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. But I was scared. Of losing my future. And then I was terrified of losing you.’
‘I think she is trying to sabotage the line. I … God, Jai, I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.’
She tried to warn me. But I didn’t pay attention to it. I was drowning in pain. And in the back of my mind, I thought that since the deal was signed, there was no sabotaging it.
If Ananya had been loyal to me when it truly mattered, I’d have lost the only person who had ever been in my corner. If not – if I was wrong again – I was an even bigger fool than Dad thought I was.
I didn’t know what to believe. Whether to rage or grieve. All I could think of was her.
The curve of her smile. The twinkle in her eyes. That goddamn floral scent.
‘Ayaan is not CEO material, Jai. Won’t be unless he makes big changes in his life. You cannot let this happen,’ Harish uncle said.
‘Email the video to me,’ I said, my heart hammering. ‘I need to go.’
‘Dilip isn’t here, and you’re drunk. Just stay the night—’
‘I’m sorry for everything, uncle. And grateful for your help. But I’m fine. See you later,’ I said, already rushing out the door.
I should have gone home. Should have gone to bed or even opened another bottle. But my feet carried me down the road and up four sets of stairs.
I just wanted answers; maybe she had explanations I didn’t let her give. Or just a glimpse of her. Something to fill this void that threatened to consume all of me.
Before I knew it, I was at Ananya’s doorstep, jamming the bell over and over.
No answer.
Maybe she’s asleep. Or out. What if she were at a club and someone was chatting her up? Or worse, on a date?
I pounded my fist on the door. ‘Ananya!’ My voice echoed in the silent hallway. ‘Open the door!’
Eventually, it flew open.
Rhea glared at me, standing at the threshold in an oversized T-shirt and pyjamas, her hair messy from sleep. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I …’ I looked into the flat from over her head. ‘Where is she?’
‘You’re drunk. Go home.’ She started to push the door shut, but I caught it and held it open.
‘Ananya!’ I called loudly. Surely, she would come out if she knew I was here. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Rhea hissed, glancing towards the neighbours’ doors. ‘It’s midnight. Are you trying to wake up the whole building?’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Let me just talk to her.’
‘She’s gone.’
A wave of panic swamped me. ‘What do you mean gone? Where is she?’
She exhaled sharply, moving away from the door and going farther inside. I followed.
The living room seemed the same. The Polaroid pictures. Her designing corner. The couch where we’d sat and laughed. But it lacked … life. Ananya really wasn’t here.
‘She’s gone back to Banaras,’ Rhea said, crossing her arms, eyes flashing. ‘And I don’t know if she’s going to be back.’
‘No.’ The word tore through my throat as I shook my head. ‘She wouldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ Her tone was sharper than a knife.
‘Because … she loves Mumbai. And her family is … they don’t get along.’
‘Oh my God. You don’t get it, do you?’ Her hands shot up in frustration.
‘Not everyone has the safety net of having a ridiculously rich family. She can’t stay here just because she likes it.
She doesn’t have a job,’ she said. ‘Do you realise how impossible it is to find one when you don’t have the right connections? ’
Her finger jabbed into my chest. ‘And thanks to your mother, she’s not going to get another opportunity in fashion. She has no reason to return. It’s all your and your family’s fault.’
Anger spiked hot in my gut. ‘My fault? She was the one spying on me this entire time!’
‘She was trying to survive. Between a family forcing marriage on her, Rekha’s blackmail and you … she was cornered.’
I ran a hand down my face. ‘She could have told me. But she didn’t. She chose to betray me.’
Her laugh was humourless, harsh. ‘Look at what you did when she did tell you. Did you understand? Did you forgive her? Or did you prove her fears right?’
‘She only told me because she needed to. Because Rivaayat was in danger.’
‘She could have just stayed mum,’ Rhea snapped back. ‘Said to hell with the line. Kept her job. Kept you. But she didn’t. She told you the truth for you. Despite knowing it could cost her everything.’
Her words hit hard. I swallowed. Cold weight sank in my stomach. She hadn’t gained a thing from telling me. Rivaayat’s success meant nothing to her future. She told me anyway. For me.
‘Why didn’t … why didn’t she say anything sooner?’
‘She should have,’ Rhea said, her anger fizzling out. ‘I’m not saying she did the right thing. It ate at her every day. Everything she did was her way of surviving while protecting you. Ananya—’ She exhaled, her head lowering as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘She was terrified,’ she continued, quieter now, her eyes meeting mine.
‘Of losing you. Of losing the career she was desperate to build. Of being forced back to Banaras into a marriage, into a life she didn’t want.
And it cost her herself. The anxiety. The panic attacks.
She couldn’t even eat on some days. She was a mess, Jai.
I don’t understand how you didn’t see it. ’
Something inside me splintered. ‘Panic attacks?’ I croaked. ‘Anxiety?’
She nodded.
Everything shifted off balance. My breath stalled. My knees weakened. I clutched the edge of the couch.
Images flashed in my mind.
The time she came into my office after meeting a friend. She was trembling, her eyes were unmistakably glassy.
‘Did someone say anything to you? Did something happen? Who was it?’
‘N-no. I just … I … my friend and I argued. I’m upset because of it.’
I knew that wasn’t it. And still, I let it drop.
The fashion show. She’d slipped out early and sat pressed against the door in the car, looking out of the window as if her mind was far away from her. She felt distant. Fragile. And at home, when she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes were red, her skin pale.
‘Are you okay? You seem … different.’
‘I’m fine. Just had a long day.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
She refused, and once again, I left it at that. Didn’t insist she tell me her problems. Didn’t try to find out.
Last week.
She always brought me my chai on time. But that one morning, she was late. When I went to the kitchen in search of her, she was standing there, clutching the counter, looking sick.
‘Are you okay? You look … unwell.’
‘Nothing. I was just … for a second, I felt a little dizzy.’
Twenty minutes later, we’d run into Dad and Rekha. She didn’t even look at them. She looked like she was going to throw up.
The skipped meals. The excuses. Not hungry. Every moment I’d failed to see burned into me. How many more times were there? Moments I didn’t even know about?
I pressed the heel of my palm into my eyes. Guilt wasn’t a single emotion. It was a smear: anger at Rekha, shame at my blindness, grief for the person Ananya had become.
‘I thought I was the one losing everything,’ I whispered, my voice breaking. ‘But Ananya … fuck. I didn’t even see it.’
There was sorrow and pity in the way Rhea looked at me. ‘She didn’t want you to know. You can’t read minds. My point is … she’s suffered too. You’re both victims here.’
You’re both victims.
A part of me wanted to reject it. Her suffering didn’t change the fact that she spied on me.
Broke my trust. Even then, her images didn’t leave me.
Trembling fingers. Pale skin. Red-rimmed eyes.
Ananya had suffered because of Rekha’s schemes, too.
She was bleeding out in front of me, and I didn’t see it.
Victims. Both of us. Different cages, same bars.
The full force of my fury shifted towards Rekha. And at myself for being so wrapped up in my pain that I’d missed hers even after she showed it to me.
A concoction of guilt, anger and confusion sluiced through my veins as I made my way home.
City lights streaked past in a blur of red, yellow and white.
Suddenly, the cab jerked to a stop and took a U-turn.
‘Sorry, took the wrong turn,’ the driver said.
Clarity cut through the fog. The road I’d gone down wasn’t going to take me where I wanted to go. There were no U-turns in life, but I could change my direction.
I pulled out my phone and called Arjun.
‘Hello?’ Even though it was past midnight, he sounded wide awake.
‘I need help with something.’